Last night was so so so hard fearful of physical therapy in the morning (we're "calming my nervous system"- NOT) there was a panic attack and we talked to mom on the phone, and she filled in another few pieces for us. So now I actually have a full picture of the first half of just having turned three....

February 1980 hospitalization for bronchial asthma just after I turn 3. It is terrible - I refuse to work with the nurses and refuse to eat. They call my mom often complaining about her "Brat". I am terrified of medical staff after this.

Upon 're-entry', I have no eye contact with my pediatrician; so he takes my hand and says "_____, I am going to hold your hand until you look at me". He repeats this several times while I struggle to free my hand. (Mom remembered this next part) Then says he'll send my mother out of the room if I don't look at him.
(OK - telling that to a little kid is just as bad as a death threat. Sad, too, because I really liked this Dr... but they didn't know as much back then like they do now on how kids get traumatized. This is where last night I swapped into my 3 yr old alter and just totally )
I comply finally, but only speak in "meow" to him and all medical staff in that office after that. Later in my young life, he asks me (in front of my mom) if I have been abused (because of the many bruises on my arms and legs). She says "Of course not! and he says "I'm asking Her." He then sends Child Protection Services to our home. I only wish they had removed me.

March 1980 my beloved grandma dies. Mom is devastated, even tho I understand at that time, as young children sometimes do, but I miss her terribly the rest of my life. She was the one family member who LOVED me unconditionally.

Soon after this (possibly even the funeral weekend that I stay with her) I fight off my other grandmother (the mean one) in the shower --for reasons I should not mention here--. She grabs me by the hair to continue the shower. I refused to speak to her for a long time and refused to let her dry me off until she apologizes. She finally relents and says she'll never do that again.

A few months after that the same exact scene is repeated with my mom in a camp ground shower. I become "insanely crazy" and "fight like the devil" to escape her. She grabs me by the hair to continue the shower. because she's afraid I'd run starkers through the camp ground and it's late at night.

It is through all of these traumas that my first alternate personality is born. She is a wild cat and will fight without thinking.

She came fully forward last night for the first time in a LONG time, while all these realizations were coming out, especially learning that the pediatrician threatened to send mom out of the room. It explains her wild reaction to physical therapy last week with the PT holding my hand and exerting increasing pressure and gently pulling my arm (and shoulder) out of "hunched and ready to run or fight" position. Another alter who is also wild, but a bit older yelled to me DO SOMETHING as the little one was crying. But I didn't know what to do and couldn't speak. So nothing was done externally - tho I did try to comfort them internally.

3 was upset, crying, and hyperventilating. She cried for her grandma for an hour, calling for her to come back to us. Mom was concerned and wanted to come over but 3 told her no, remembering that mom was part of the trauma as well. Mom called again and 3 still told her no. That she had her bunny and was sucking her thumb and pulling on her hair. Mom was half hysterical and nearly came over anyway but by 11:30 I called to tell her I was back and we were ok.
Ok isn't quite the right word.... :/ but... you know.
This morning in PT, I gave her my notes about my panic and trauma and to please try something different. So she did everything but the hand holding... which, sadly, (I forgot about it...) included pulling on the roots of my hair at the nape of my neck :'( I talked 3 through it, trying to change AAHHHHHH! to Breathe through it, it's not the past and it will soon be over.... but it still dissociated me badly.
I ran errands through the dissociative fog, and ran into mom at the store. thankfully, she bought me breakfast. But the day has been a rough one. Far from calming my nervous system, breakout behaviors are all over the place and all my self-regulation techniques are out the window.
scared