no-one to the rescue

I know that most of my posts since this summer have been sad because I've been sad - really sad. It has been a hard six months, but I've noticed over the last few days that my energy level is coming back up, and I've stopped crying on my way to work every day.

Is my depression lifting? I asked myself, "Are you sad?" Answer, "I don't know."

"Are you happy?" Answer, "I don't know."

I don't feel happy or sad or love or anything - except when I am in my classroom because that is the only time lately that no-one isn't out. I'm glad she recognizes that she isn't needed in class.

no-one is my alter who doesn't feel - she did feel once - but it quickly passed. no-one usually isn't out for extended periods, but with all the madness going on in our life and the world, no-one had to step in. The suicide this summer of my niece, the suicide attempts of a loved one since, the near-death experiences of two other family members, the suicide of a family friend two weeks ago, and then the horror in CT was too much for my system. It was time for an emotion shut-down. I was too depressed and tired to get anything done.

I wonder if this is what it feels like to be medicated for some mental illnesses or disorders. I really don't feel anything; I am completely numb. However, I can see that after a while I wouldn't like not feeling. This also helps me understand why those with bi-polar disorder go off their meds. I am an emotional flat-line right now - no highs or lows.

For now I am okay with this. The depression, worry, and anxiety were getting way too bad, almost to the point I thought I'd have to quit my job and stay home all the time because I was so afraid something bad would happen while I was at work, and I wouldn't be available to whoever needed help.

Thank you, no-one. Stick around for a bit while the inside heals. Alters really are created to keep the system alive and functional.

Names of Alters/Parts

I recently had a friend ask me how I knew the names of my parts. Generally, they tell me who they are and what their purpose is.


The first part I became aware of was Cat. I didn’t like her name at all, but she insisted that Cat is her name, so her name stands.

I went through a time when most of my parts were pretty quiet, so I took an internal roll call. I found everyone and said, “I think that is everyone.”

Cat and Laura said, “Don’t forget Little One.”

They let me know that there was another part. They have done this twice: first when they introduced me to Joy, and second when they told me about Little One. When Little One became brave enough, she told me that her name is really Annie, but the other parts call her Little One.

I have only named one part. She was given horrible names by the people who abused our system. I could not let her keep names that were detrimental to her and to us. She had to agree on the name we chose. I called her Angel for a while, but she hated that name. She said it made her feel dead and that she was no angel. She had a sarcastic comment about every name I offered her. The name we agreed on was Glory. It really fits her.

I know that each person with DID has a system unique to them. Another person’s process of discovering their parts/alters may be completely different than my experience. Feel free to share your experience with discovering your alternate names with us in the comments section.

The Scream

A reader (Cynthia) asked me how many alters I have. I have ten alters that I know of, so counting me (the host), there are eleven of us.


Today, when I went to pick up dinner (because Trina can’t cook her way out of a paper bag), Annie surfaced. Annie is a child of about four years old. She is slight with thin blond hair. She surfaces at times when I am in a car headed north. I’m not sure why that brings her out.

I know when she is near because she comes with the feeling of a tear tightened throat and the burn of tears right behind my eyes. The scream she contains lodges in my chest and feels that it will nearly choke me. Sometimes I wonder if I were to let go of that scream if she would start to heal. I’ve tried to let go of her scream, but I can’t bring myself to scream with the intensity that I feel is there – it comes out as a choke and a whimper. I worry that the neighbors would call the police because they would think someone was killing me. :) So the scream stays inside with Annie.

Annie never surfaces all the way. She doesn’t even have a safe place that is separate from me. She dwells inside – close to my heart - where she feels protected. Her scream today reminded me of a time when I did let out the scream to end all screams.

I was fourteen at the time and walking to the Mall. My hometown was still pretty small and quiet. As I went by a house, the moron lady who dwelt inside let a large black dog outside. Because of her exceptional smartness, she of course turned right around, went back inside her house, and left the dog outside with me. First of all, I am afraid of dogs. Secondly, I believe dogs can smell fear – they are like middle school students sensing the fear of the substitute teacher and then turning that fear against them.

The dog ran for me.

I froze.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t think.

The dog began to leap.

I watched in slow motion as he/she (Hey, I was scared – I wasn’t checking out dog genitalia) began to leap for my face, and my life flashed before my eyes.

The ultimate scream tore from my lungs.

The big black dog seemed to stop in midair; it turned, and ran all the way back to its porch.

I stood there for a minute wondering if that horrible sound had really emanated from my body. I was shaking. I quickly looked around to see if I had embarrassed myself in front of any people, but I was still all alone except for the dog. I was surprised the woman hadn’t come back out, but then again maybe she really hated people and hoped I was one less person in the world. The dog crouched on the porch. I slowly walked away from the house – I wasn’t taking a chance by moving too quickly. When I got to the mall, and tried to talk to a clerk, I found that I had no voice. I had screamed myself hoarse – with only one scream.

I wonder if I screamed another ultimate scream again – as Annie – if she would feel safe enough to leave the inside.

Creating Safe Places

Early on after being diagnosed with DID, I learned on a wonderful message board that it was important to create internal safe places for each of my alters. After discussing this with my therapist, I worked together with my alters to create homes for them. Creating safe places is important for several reasons. When an alter is not upfront, they need a place to be. If an alter gets stressed or needs a break, they need a safe place to go. When the host is doing things that are not age appropriate for a child (yes, like having sex), they need to be in their safe place.

Now when I need to talk to an alter, I can see them in their space and we can talk. I can see if they are asleep or awake. If they are not needed upfront, being in their safe place reduces the mental noise of too many opinions.

There is no right or wrong way to do this. A safe place can be whatever the alter feels is safe. They will let you know what they need. For those of you without DID this exercise probably sounds really crazy, but for those of us with DID, it is an important step in organizing our system. Think about it, if you have a place for everything and everything is in its place, doesn’t your home run more smoothly? It is the same concept. I don’t want any of my parts to be lost because each of them serves a valuable function.

The safe places for each of my alters are vastly different although many share a love of books and have included bookshelves full of books in their safe places.

Cat lives in a tree house. Her tree house is not an ordinary tree house. It is a small home in the trees. It is warm and homey with a sod roof and a lot of books. The paint in her house is done in warm jewel tones.

Laura lives in a stone cottage in a walled garden. Her house is bright and sunny. She loves all plants and flowers. Again, I wish I was an artist because I would draw all the safe places.

Joy lives in a sun filled nursery with her caretaker Dot. Her nursery opens up to a yard with a generous amount of green grass,  a swing set, sprinklers, and a sandbox.

Shadow lives in my chest, close to my heart, where she feels the safest.

No one doesn’t need a safe place because she can simply disappear when she needs to feel safe.

I have other alters with other safe places but they don’t want me to share them with you today.

If you have DID and you haven’t yet created safe places for your alters, talk to your therapist about it. I hope it helps your system as much as it has helped mine.

Graduation

A few days ago, I graduated from college – many years later than most people – but the victory was still sweet. I nearly decided not to walk. I completed my requirements four months ago and received my diploma three months ago. Did I really need to walk to make it official? When I saw what the cap, gown, and graduation announcements would cost, my practical side came out, and I thought of all the other things that money could buy. Luckily for me, my daughter said, “Mom you need to walk.”

When my graduation box was delivered in parts – first the announcements, then the cap, gown, and tassel, and finally the Summa Cum Laude medal, I felt excited and scared. I was unsure how many people would be there. I knew there would be a lot. When the day of the graduation came, I couldn’t decide what to wear. I tried on eight different combinations of clothing before settling on one. The stress was causing some switching. That morning until I arrived at the event center, no-one was out. No-one is an alter that numbs the system. She creates an emotional void so that I don’t get too stressed, tired, or emotional.

Many years ago when one of my best friends from the cult killed herself, no-one kept me from feeling the emotional effect of my loss. I didn’t cry. I felt anger at the funeral when the cult leaders made her funeral into an object lesson on what happens to those who leave the cult, but I didn’t cry. My boyfriend at the time dumped me because he said, “It isn’t normal to not cry. Why don’t you cry?” I informed him that I cry on my own time. I didn’t realize at the time what was happening.

When we arrived at the event center, I could feel Laura and Cat – those two are usually close by. At one point when some graduates in front of me were talking and laughing so loudly that I couldn’t concentrate on the speaker, Trina come out and shushed them. I was glad for that because Laura doesn’t talk. All through the graduation, I kept looking at the card I would give to the announcer when I crossed the platform. It had my name with both my maiden and married name on it. It had my degree and my major. Every time I read it, I felt proud of what we – as a group – had accomplished.

Soon the speakers were done and they began reading names. I followed a line of graduates to the podium. When I saw the red carpet leading up and then down a ramp, I said a small prayer that I wouldn’t stumble in my high heels and completely embarrass myself on the big screen TV that was positioned for all in the arena to see. As I walked up the red carpeted ramp, I thought of Grandma. I hoped she was there watching me. I missed her so much. I thought of the friends who had acted as catalysts by helping me find enough self confidence and courage to go back to school as an adult with only a 10th grade education. I had to finish high school and then college – first as a woman in a failing marriage with a husband who did not want her to go to school, then as a single mother taking classes as she could fit them into her life, and then finally as a woman in the crisis of dealing with the emergence of alters. Fortunately at this point in my life, I was blessed with a supportive husband, amazing adult children, a loving young child, a supportive extended family, and wonderfully encouraging friends. They say alters emerge to the host when they feel safe; I am thankful to be in a safe place.

I am indeed blessed. It took me forever because of times when I could not go to school or had to take a reduced school load because of young children, stress, work, or finances, but here I was walking across that red carpet, then shaking the hand of the Dean as he handed me an empty diploma cover, pausing at the end while my daughter snapped my pictures, and smiling not only on the outside, but clear to the inside – in every part of me. We did it!

The flowers are from some very special people in my life. Every time I look them I can see myself walking across the red carpet and the smile comes back. My daughter was right – I needed to walk.

 
 

Do I Know You?

Co-consciousness for a person with DID is communicating with alters in real time. I like co-consciousness because it makes me feel in control. It also allows me to think of several different perspectives at the same time. Without co-consciousness, people with DID fail to recognize people they should know. For example: A couple of weeks after I started teaching at a school, I ran into a man at Wal-Mart. He greeted me (and he was not the greeter). I said, “Hello,” and continued on my way.

As walked past him, he said, “Aren’t you one of our student teachers.”

I said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you without your suit.” Of course I still had no idea who he was.

He laughed, “I’ve had that happen. I’m ****** ****** - the Vice Principal.” He added, “How do you like teaching at our school? Would you consider teaching with us permanently?”

“Yes, I’d love to stay at your school.” I was embarrassed that I hadn’t recognized the VP, but he was gracious about it. When I’m at the school, my alter Trina is out front. When I am shopping, either Grown up or Glory is out.

One day I received a phone call from a teacher who needed me to cover her class for a week. Trina wasn’t out to take this call because I was out. When I ran into her at the school the next day, she said, “I’m so glad you can take my class for me next week.” I gave her a blank stare while I tried to pull the information I needed from somewhere. She looked puzzled and said, “You can teach for me next week, right?” Then everything clicked – this was the same lady I had talked to the day before – only on the phone and at home – not at the school.

“Of course I can.”

Her face brightened and she gave me a hug. “I’m so glad. I worry about leaving my kids with anyone else.”

I thought, “If you had any idea.” Although I have these lapses, I am a good teacher. When I am in the classroom, I am Trina. Trina cares only about the students. She doesn’t like the idea that the host has a husband and children. Her idea of the perfect life would be to live in an apartment with nothing else to do but create lesson plans and find ways to reach all the really hard kids. She loves to talk about her students and plan fun learning activities for them. She has no interest in any other part of our life. She was quite vain in thinking she didn’t need the system to function. If she had her way, she would take over the whole system and not let anyone else out. While in the classroom, she doesn’t even think about the body’s family unless someone asks about them.

One day Trina was out shopping for things for her students at the local thrift store. She needed things from the 60s and 70s for a history lesson. Can you believe her students had never seen a record or a record player? When she brought the record player to class, a student asked if we could play a CD on it. Trina thought this was quite delightful. Anyway, back to the store. As Trina shopped, she heard some ladies on the next aisle. Their voices sounded familiar, but she didn’t go see who they were. She finished looking on that aisle and then went to the next one. As she turned the corner, the two ladies, in unison, said, “Hey, ******* (the body’s name), what are you doing here.” They seemed really happy to see Trina.

Trina looked at them and thought, “They look familiar – where do I know them from.” The ladies came up and put their arms around Trina – hugged her. Then, like a wheel clicking into place, another alter stepped forward. “Mom, Beth, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

My sister Beth looked at me quizzically, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I just have a lot on my mind with finals coming up and lesson planning. You know how it is.” I quickly turned the conversation to Beth’s classroom and asked how her first year of teaching was going. I helped her find the things she needed for her students. Inside, I was a mess. I had failed to recognize my own mother and sister. I was so mad at Trina for thinking she could be out on her own without anyone else to help. Trina was upset that she had nearly given the whole system away. It is one thing to not recognize a co-worker, but to not know your own mother?!?

Beth asked again as we parted, “You sure you’re okay? You seem really tired.”

“I am tired. I’ll be fine though.”

I sat in my car berating myself and telling the system that we had to have a meeting when my phone rang, “We are going to lunch. Do you want to join us?” Mom asked.

“I better get home and get my homework done. Thanks though.” In truth I needed to process what had just happened. If the system doesn’t work together, people will figure out that something is not right. The system was created as a survival mechanism. I was embarrassed and angry. We had a group meeting and we talked about how important it is to communicate with each other. Trina had not been sharing. Because of her selfishness, we failed to recognize two people from the school and our own family members. She still feels badly about this; she knows she failed us. This has helped make her a bit less cocky. She has to communicate with the system so that we don’t embarrass ourselves by not knowing people when she isn’t out. She also needs to allow someone else to be out with her when she is outside of the classroom because she doesn’t know all our people.

While having DID can be frustrating, it keeps things interesting. I know that when I call myself us or we it can be confusing, but I am not just one – I am eleven different ones all wrapped up in the same body, so it is hard for me think singularly when I am a plural. I will try to let you know when I am talking about a 3D person verses one of my alters.

Thanks for stopping by my blog. I love comments and questions. You give me hope that maybe someday we won’t be viewed as such anomalies – of course after what I wrote today – you may think I am a complete anomaly. But then again, what is “normal” anyway?

Lilies

I bought some lily bulbs a couple of weeks ago, but the weather has not cooperated, so until today, they sat on my kitchen counter waiting. Today dawned cold, but the sun was out, so I donned a coat and took my little package of bulbs outside and planted them. While I worked the soil, I thought about the comparison of bulbs to my healing journey. I know it sounds like a stretch, but hear me out.

Sometime, a long, long time ago – probably in Holland, someone figured out how to plant bulbs so that when they are planted correctly we get beautiful flowers. In the hands of an experienced gardener who knows when to plant, how deep to plant, where to plant, when to dig them up and separate them, and how to place them right side up, a beautiful flower will grow after a season of dormancy.

However, if those same bulbs are put into the hands of an inexperienced gardener, they may be planted upside down, in soil too wet – which makes them rot, too close together, during the wrong season, or too deep or not deep enough, the flower quality then suffers if they bloom at all.

The bulbs wait until the right season to begin their journey. A person with D.I.D also waits for their healing to begin. The therapist can be compared to the gardener. There are some therapists, like the inexperienced gardener, who don’t have enough experience to treat D.I.D. Far worse is the therapist who doesn’t even believe that D.I.D exists. If someone without experience looks at a daffodil bulb and tulip bulb, they may confuse the two. This happens often with D.I.D. Often a person with D.I.D is misdiagnosed. No matter what a therapist or a gardener thinks, a tulip is never a daffodil. It is also common for a person with D.I.D. to have more than one disorder. I also suffer from PTSD.

A good therapist can nurture a person and help them bloom. Just like a bulb, it takes time. I found it very hard in the beginning to be patient. I wanted to be better now. I was scared, and I couldn’t see that after the hard winter, the flower would indeed bloom. Just as the gardener trusts the process of planting the bulbs, the person with D.I.D. must also trust that things will get better – but it is a journey. I have days when I struggle. Sometimes it is one step forward and two steps back. Mostly it is two steps forward and one step back – which is okay. I am thankful for good therapists and for the good folks on message boards who help me know that I am perfectly normal for a person who has Dissociative Identity Disorder. A year and a half after being scared to death of my diagnosis, I am happy with where I am. I am no longer afraid of the alters who dwell within now that I recognize they were just waiting for their time to bloom.

We can't see them yet - we only see their progress when the stems poke through the ground, but they are in the dirt being nurtured, growing, and waiting for the right day to unfold into glory.

How to Train Your Dragon

Today my 3D son and I went to see How to Train Your Dragon. I was impressed with this movie. My child was very interested and entertained. The film did not include any gratuitous potty humor – which I appreciated. I think it is important for a child’s sense of humor to grow beyond laughing at bodily functions. I found the film entertaining and thought provoking.

You may ask, “But what does this have to do with Dissociative Identity Disorder?”

I can see many similarities in the story line of the film to that of a person with D.I.D. The film shows conflict between humans and dragons as they wage war on one another. The problem is that the humans do not understand the dragons; they don’t know why they do what they do. I felt this same conflict months and years before my diagnosis. I knew there was something wrong. I knew there was at least one other inside, but I was deathly afraid of her. I was scared she would reveal more about my abuse than I could handle, so I fought against her. I tried desperately to keep her from communicating with me and by doing so caused more hurt to her. I thought she only wanted to hurt me. My denial of her stayed strong until one day when she shared a memory of Disneyland with me while I was on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. She said, “Remember when we went through here when you were little? And I thought if we could jump out of the boat and fill our pockets with treasure then we wouldn’t have to be poor and hungry anymore. Remember when I thought that maybe I was beautiful enough to be the pretty girl being auctioned off?

The problem with this shared memory was that I had never been to Disneyland as a child. My first trip to Disneyland came when I was a 36 year old woman who had plenty of food and money. To say I was unnerved is an understatement. Obviously that little, Cat, was present (without my knowledge) during my first trip to Disneyland when I was 36. Cat is 6. I had no paper, so I wrote about the experience on the back of some cardstock that came in a toy we had purchased for my 3D child while said child and husband went on Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Cat has tousled thick, short, wavy, reddish brown hair, brown eyes, and a small nose. She is small for her age which helps her to hide when necessary. She likes to run, is fast and efficient, and a bit of a prankster. She has an outgoing personality. She would just as soon be outside in a tree as anywhere else. She carries most of the emotions. She is quick to laugh and quick to cry.

I continued to try to push her away after our return from vacation, but she was always there – peeking around the corners of my mind – insisting that I listen to her. I was terrified that the information she knew and the emotions she carried would send me over the edge. I was used to feeling numb; feeling emotions when one is used to feeling detached is pretty scary. One day when I was at the gym and she was communicating with me – me not a willing listener – I ran to the bathroom to check my eyes in the mirror to make sure they hadn’t turned brown. I was so sure that I would see her peering out of my eyes. Of course my eyes were still green – thank God. I called that day to get back in to see a therapist.

With the help of my therapist, the process for contact with Cat was facilitated, and I learned that she is a delightful little girl not a scary monster. She is a tease. Sometimes she hides things and plays jokes on me, but I love her. Now that I know what her objective is in my system, I don’t need to be afraid anymore. The humans in the film also lost their fear when they understood the dragons' objective. This was not an overnight process. The boy in the film had to use kindness and patience to befriend the dragon. I had to lose the desire to destroy this alter (out of fear) and use kindness, patience, and love to get to know her. She helps fill in my missing parts just as the boy and dragon helped each other in the film. The film teaches us to not be so afraid of the unknown that we continue to have pain in our lives. The film also teaches that we must use patience and have the desire to understand the other party.

Our alters need to feel safe with us in order to be effective parts of the system. It is possible for our parts to work together. First seek for understanding; understanding has helped me gain new appreciation for all the parts of me that I have met so far. When you learn their objective you can help them help you.

My Heart is Full

I may not have been blessed with parents who protected me, but God sent me something even better – children who not only keep me grounded – but who do all they can to protect me. My children know I have a blog and they read it. One of my children called me tonight; she was worried about what would happen if someone figured out this blog belongs to me – like the six degrees of separation theory. I think she is more worried than I am, and it feels so good to have my child want to keep me safe. I am so thankful for my children and the love and joy they bring into my life.

My daughter and I talked about society’s attitudes toward mental illnesses and our hope that someday, people will be more accepting towards those of us who struggle with minds that are not “normal” (whatever that is). I said, “I’m sad that DID is considered a mental illness because I don’t feel mentally ill; in fact, I sometimes feel like I have super powers.” I should probably clarify that for those of you who don’t know me.

When I first suspected that something was not “normal” with my mind, I did feel crazy and broken and incredibly confused, but since I’ve learned more about how my mind works – thanks to therapy, research, a wonderful website for those who have DID, and a book called I am More Than One by Jane Wegscheider Hyman. If you have DID, I recommend this book. I haven’t finished reading it yet, but it has helped me understand the brain processes of DID. Now that my alters are communicating with each other, often more than one is out at once. It is a blessing to be fed several points of view before making a decision. Sometimes an alter will notice something that the person out didn’t see and comment internally on it which helps us see things that might have been missed. So DID can feel like having more than one brain going. I never have to be lonely either. :)

Before I understood that brain process, I felt crazy – like my soul had been split into pieces or that I was possessed by other spirits or beings because they felt so different from me. Now that I understand that they are another part of my brain – they still feel different, but I know they were all created to keep me safe. They protect me the same way my 3D kids protect me.

About a year ago, I had a huge awakening. I had spent a month constantly worrying about who was forward (which alter was out) so much so that I couldn’t enjoy life because of the worry that if the wrong alter was out, I could appear crazy to the rest of the world. I went for a walk, enjoyed nature and the stirrings of spring, and watched the birds and ducks. The walk calmed me, and I thought about how all the parts of me were like my children. They were all created by me. Their roles are to protect me and to make me appear normal to the world. I thought about them in relationship to my 3D children. My 3D children were each created with love, and my end goal for them was that they become positive members of society – essentially the same goal as for my alters. I thought of each of my children and their love for me; each of them would defend me and do all they could to protect me. They represent me and the teachings of our home well. They are loving and compassionate people. I thought further that if I could trust my 3D children who are separate individuals to protect me, shouldn’t I be able to trust my alters, who are parts of me, to keep me safe? Instead of focusing so much energy on figuring out who is out, I need to allow whoever is out to use that energy to represent me to the best of their ability. I need to allow them to do the job they were created to do. As my cyber DID friends tell me, “Trust the process.” I am blessed to have supportive people in my life, in my mind, and online. You all fill my heart.

The Hardest Part of Starting a Blog

When I contemplated starting this blog, I had no idea that the hardest part of doing so would be figuring out what to name it. I need to write about my experiences of dealing with Dissociative Identity Disorder (formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder), but I fail to do so because I am the type of person who works better with deadlines. By starting this blog, I hope to feel a bit of pressure to maintain it. Google has wonderful templates to easily turn even me into a blogger.

Excitedly thinking about all the things I would write about in my new blog, I clicked on the “create your blog” button; the first thing I was asked to do was “name your blog”. Things in my brain went quiet. A name . . . a name . . . what name . . . what would be a good name . . . what would be a name that people won’t find stupid . . . what would be a name I could live with on my blog for the rest of time?

I brainstormed several ideas: relatively normal, me and more, just me, super powers, being okay with DID, parts, day to day with DID, alters – adjust for a better fit, others, alters others shadow and sun, behind green eyes, more than me, all of me, and sunshine and shadows.

I wanted to use alters, parts, or others in the title because that is what I have, but when I looked those words up in the dictionary, they had some negative meanings or in my mind had negative connotations. the term others reminds me of the Nicole Kidman movie, The Others, about ghosts and fear. It also holds the suggestion of being somehow not okay. Parts denote something that is not whole; although with all my parts, I am whole. Alters which has a meaning I love: To adjust for a better fit, also means to change or make different, and to castrate or spay. Although at this point in my life I could do without my uterus, I don’t want that connotation being thought of when someone sees the title to my blog.

Alters, parts, and others are all acceptable terms to use when talking about the different personalities that are contained in the brain of a person who has DID. Some of us prefer one over the others; I am okay with all three.

One by one, I discarded every idea except for sunshine and shadows. Many people may think that being diagnosed with DID is life ending, but it is not (unless people find out and treat you badly or fail to hire you because of your diagnosis). Being diagnosed was both scary and a relief for me. I had a name for the things that were going on in my brain. I could now learn to live with this diagnosis. Life for a person with DID is much like life for someone without DID – only different. Not everything about having DID is bad; some things about having DID are actually helpful.

Some days, this blog will be about very normal things – things that have nothing to do with DID. Some days, this blog will be all about DID. When I write about things that may be triggering for someone else with DID, I will put a warning at the beginning of the post. My intent is not to hinder the healing of another person, but to get my thoughts, memories, concerns, joys, and even the mundane down on paper – or into digital code anyway. Feel free to email me or leave comments and questions. I’ll do my best to answer everything. Remember there is a human being (with several alters) at the end of that email – please be kind. Welcome to my story of the Sunshine and Shadows in my life.