Request

I don't like doing this often, which is why I rarely do it, and end up in this situation as often as I do.

I am once again deeply in debt to my therapist. As of my last session, I owe her $5,000 and counting. At $150 a session, twice a week, this number climbs quickly. I can't cut back on therapy, not if I want to continue to make progress.

My Rav is accepting donations on my behalf. I do not see this money directly, checks get made out to my therapist, not me. Any help, including spreading this post, would be greatly appreciated.

Donations can be sent to:
Keren Zichron Gedalyahu
C/O Rabbi M. Keller
565 East 8th Street
Brooklyn, NY 11218

Additionally, his daughter has set up a GoFundMe page to accept donations, which will also go directly to my therapist. Online donations can be made here.

Tizku L'mitzvos!

Horton the Elephant

As I sit on my bed and read to my parts,

Little and big, with all kinds of hearts,

I see a lesson we should all be hearing,

About how to care in a way that is caring.

In Whoville the Whos are so small and so tiny,

They're asking for help in a way that's not whiny.

Only Horton can hear them, he doesn't give in,

Though other animals find that their patience is thin.

Horton keeps at it, with this little saying,

The animals listen, their minds end up swaying,

"I'll just have to save him. Because, after all,

A person's a person, no matter how small."

Abuse can happen in any kind of place,

It doesn't discriminate based on religion or race.

Do we listen to the children, no matter how small?

Are we like Horton? Do we give it our all?

The children are crying, through voice and behavior,

Looking for a Horton to come be their savior.

Do we say "he is lying! He's just a big bum!"

"She's looking to place blame on someone!"

Or are we like Horton, who hears the little Who?

Do we say "I'm so sorry this happened to you!"

Do we find some way, however big or little,

Or do we blame them, for blowing the whistle?

Art Therapy

When people hear I'm in art therapy, they sometimes think I'm "taking the easy way out." After all, how hard can it be to paint, draw, cut and paste?

In reality, a good art therapist doesn't do just that. Sure, I do some form of art every session. But we also talk about what I'm thinking and feeling while I paint that picture, or cut out that picture from a magazine. We also discuss everything about my life-just as one might in any other form of therapy. My therapist has many techniques in her arsenal-we use CBT, DBT, play therapy, and EMDR techniques. We figure out where I need more help, where I can use some new skills, and of course, how far I've come.

So yeah, I'll take the magazines, scissors and glue, the pastels, paints, and brushes. I'm making art to grow.

What Kind of Jew Are You?

Today, someone asked me how I identify as a Jew. Am I Orthodox., Modern Orthodox...

I came up with a new Jewish group:

I am a Growing and Changing Every Day Jew

Something "New"

Technically this isn't new. It's been there all along. It's new to my blog though. This is a portion of my past that I never wrote about before.

I was talking to someone in the field of education this afternoon. She was telling me about a student of hers, and some issues they were having with her. It triggered this memory.

I was maybe seven years old. I was at a neighbor's house, one I didn't play with that often. I remember there were three of us together that day. The other two girls told me there was only one way they would play with me that afternoon-I had to stand up on a chair and pull down my underpants.

I don't remember what we played.

This story coming to mind reminded me of something I've read many times, but never connected with myself before. Someone who is already being abused, or who has been abused in the past, is that much more vulnerable to further abuse.

Sleeping on the Train

I missed another therapy session on Friday. Because I fell asleep. Deeply asleep. On the train. For almost two hours.

Oops.

Five Months?!

I can't believe it's been five months since I last posted here! So little has happened in that time...I know, not what you expect to read. You would think I'd be bursting with things to say, accomplishments and achievements, good news and bad. But I'm not.

Therapy is the same-excruciating and exhilarating. Up and down. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times... I've had a few breakthroughs, a few setbacks. New parts have emerged. But all in all, things even out to just...very little to tell about.

One big thing happened-I moved into my own apartment with a friend. My roommate is amazing, I'm really lucky to have gotten such a good situation, at the exact time when I needed it. It's one of those rare moments in my life when I have truly felt God's hand in my  life.

I will try to keep the blog more updated. In the meantime, I'd love to hear feedback! What kind of information would you find helpful to have regarding abuse, mental illness, therapy and recovery? I have plenty to say about all those topics, and many resources at my fingertips. Fire away!

Three Months

It's been a while since I posted. Here's some of what's been going on:

After three weeks in the hospital over Purim, I'm on a total of five medications. My family lovingly makes fun of the number of pills that adds up to (14).

Therapy twice a week is really hard work. I currently know of 16 parts (also known as alters) in my DID system. Plus one...thing...we're not sure what it is. As always, I owe my therapist an insane amount of money, and accept all donations. For information on how to donate, email me.

I'm going to be on the move again. I need a new place to live. I hope I'll find one really soon, I don't want to have to permanently move back into my parents house. We'll see what happens with that.

I hope to be back more often, but in the meantime, follow me on twitter! @sheffele

Pill factory

Medicine is a funny thing
It helps me to feel better
I follow the instructions
Exactly to the letter

Pink and blue and yellow
White and two toned blue
What color are the pills
Your doctor gives to you?

Sometimes one is all I need
So one is all I take
But bedtime comes the numbers
Twelve make no mistake.

Count the pills so carefully
This one three and this one two
This one four and this one one
How many pills for you?