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.

Expanding Her World

The space between the back fence and the house,

Sandbox, swing set, lawn, and flowers, fills her entire world,

Dot, nursery, and garden – a beautifully tiny Joyful existence.

This is her world – unexpandable – until now.

Now she sinks her toes into the warm sand of Bellows,

And builds a sand castle fit for the island lizards.

She inhales sunshine and exhales delight

 

as the surf kisses and tickles her feet and legs.

The man she travels with is unaware of her;

He sees the wife he brought with him, not the child she brings with her.

Sometimes he is aware that she is different.

“You are off today,” he says.

“Yes,” she answers, “but not in a bad way.”

Today beyond the garden and nursery walls

She experiences a world full of Joy.

Joy

Joy with her baby giggles and snuggles
laughs the morning into the sky.

 

Joy slumbers on fluffy clouds that weep sweet softness
into her dreams helping the others to forget their torment.

 

Joy belongs to everyone
and everyone belongs to Joy.

 

Joy laughs, her silky blond baby hair sticks up from
apple juice and syrup and baby sweat.

 

Joy naps with a gentle smile,
clean smooth skin smelling of Johnson & Johnson baby lotion,
and the trace of a dimple in her left cheek that deepens when she awakes.

 

Joy sings; her baby voice reaches out and reels

you in like a fish desperate for land because that is where Joy lives.

 

 

 

 

 

Dot

Sturdy, old, Irish Dot

Stuck with the babies

As happy as a tight shoe

Claiming a foot in a hard embrace

That is her job

No room of her own

Does she ever feel put upon?

Or angry

Or tired

Or want to discover Explorer or Microsoft?

Still she cuddles

And coos

And laughs

And plays

And keeps the babies safe

And warm

And dry

And fed

She without wants of her own

Exists for others

Like a fleece lined slipper that caresses

And comforts

And constructs happy well-nurtured children.

Ghost from the Past

I teach teenagers, which up until this year had not been a problem for me.

When I was a child, I was abused by my dad’s friend who was a young adult. He was an unclean slender druggie with greasy, stringy dirty blond hair, an acne-scarred face, and a scraggly beard.  He is the man I had nightmares about for decades.

Although he is now an old man and with any luck, dead, I swear he walked into my classroom in the body of a one of my students.  He is a druggie in trouble with the law who looks like my former perpetrator – complete with acne scars and scraggly beard. He is a student who requires more time than all the other students because he doesn’t know how to behave. He does all he can to disrupt class and to do absolutely nothing.

I knew when he walked into the room that this would be hard for me, but I couldn’t go to the counselors and say, “This kid gives me flashbacks; can you move him?”

So I did what I always do when I have a hard kid; I prayed because I know Heavenly Father knows what this kid needs. I tried to help him feel like he was part of the class, yet every time I looked at him, I felt revulsion. I knew it was not his fault that I felt this way, so I prayed harder to be able to see the good in him. Every day he came to class and every day I dreaded seeing him come to class. My anxiety was off the charts. Yet, he was making progress. He began participating (at times) in productive ways.  

But I still wanted to quit my job so that I wouldn’t have to see him and be reminded of the horrors of the past. Instead, I kept praying.

One day he didn’t come to class. When I recorded attendance after school, he was no longer on my roll. I put my head on the desk and cried because I was so happy. I offered up a prayer of thanks because God knew that although I did what I could as a teacher, parts of me could not handle this child.

I found out later that one of his partners in crime was in the same class, so they had to move him. He was furious and didn’t want to be moved, so at least he could not tell how badly he affected me. I am glad for that because I would never want to make a child feel poorly about themselves - even a child with problems, or I should say, especially a child with problems.

Grief, I think I'm doing it wrong, or this only makes sense to me.

Grief. . . grief . . . grief. . . It just goes on and on, but I am feeling things that only make sense to me. I probably need to go talk to a counselor, but I don't because that would simply take too much energy, time, and money, so I will talk it out with my blog.

I worry that my grief will spill over onto others, and I don't want that to happen. I don't want my family members who are also suffering from the effects of grief to be burdened by my grief.

I worry that I don't have the right to feel as bad as feel. I mean, I am only the aunt not the mom, so I worry that by feeling this rotten at month four, I am somehow taking away from my sister's grief (she who is the mom). I know this doesn't make any sense - at all, but this is how I feel. Only in my head is grief only for mothers, and in reality I don't understand how my grief would make my sister feel badly, yet I worry that she will feel like my grief should not be this deep. I use the word deep because grief is a deep gaping hole that nothing seems to fill.

I worry that I will go over to her house and not be able to stop crying if anyone talks about my sweet niece, thus spilling my grief all over their house when maybe they were having a pretty decent day until I got there and effed it up. I put on a brave face for them, but if one of them needs to cry about it, I am more than griefy (because happy just doesn't fit here) to cry with them.

Grief would be a lot easier if I didn't care about any of these people and could dissociate from grief.

Grief - the kryptonite of DID superpowers.

 

Suicide - Aftermath

We are entering the third month since the death of my beautiful niece. Everything is different.

I feel that my relationship with my sister has changed. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing - it is just different - in ways I can't explain, and I mourn the way things used to be. I also know that if I am hurting this much, she is hurting more, and that pains me to my core. I want to make things better for her - right them - straighten them out, but no one can fix this.

Our family is different. Most of us worry more - anxiety levels are higher. Life is fragile, and we know that everything can and does change in an instant.

I wrote a post about DID and numbing a while back. Unfortunately, I have been unable to numb my feelings during this situation. I believe I can't numb because all of my alters know and love my sister. She is connected to the entire system, so I get to feel the full force of this grief. I wish I could shut it off.

I worry about my children and other loved ones dying. I fear death for others but not for myself - and, no, I am not suicidal. I just don't want to lose anyone else - ever, but I know that is impossible. I will face loss again, and it scares me.

We all constantly look for answers or a way to make sense of her death. There are a lot of whys. We know we will have to accept the fact that we will never know the answers, but it is damn hard.

If you or anyone you know if feeling suicidal, please, please, please, get help. Talk to those who love you or/and a medical professional. Suicide changes everything - for the worse.

Although grief is thick, I have felt a ray of hope the last two days - a little twinge of sunshine trying to break through; I pray it continues.

Monster

As my son and I went for a walk the other day, he said, "There are monsters all over the place today."

"Monsters aren't real," I replied. (although there are human monsters)

"Yes, they are. We just passed one."

In my family, if people are seeing things, it may be time to be evaluated by a professional. I frantically think to myself, Shit, is he starting to display the symptoms of  schizophrenia?

"I don't see any monsters," I insist.

"There was one on our street, and we just walked past one."

"Where?" I ask, feeling a bit frantic. Is he really seeing monsters?

He walks over to the curb, points down at the road, and shows me a Monster drink can in the street.

"You are right. That is a monster." (I'm so embarrassed).

The Worst Month Ever

This last month has been the worst month ever. We have had (in different members of my extended family of several siblings, nieces, and nephews) a drug intervention, a broken jaw, a crumbing marriage, sepsis, flesh eating bacteria - along with three surgeries to try to heal that bacteria, and the very worst of all - a suicide.

I've written about suicide before wrong solution to a temporary problem. I understand from my own thoughts of suicide why it happens, but I am really struggling with the aftermath of losing a close family member to depression.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everytime my mom calls, I hold my breath afraid she will tell me more bad news. I check on my son during the middle of the night to make sure he is still breathing. I worry constantly about my husband and children - scared something else bad will happen.

I hate depression and what it does to people. Depression is a liar - it makes you believe that there is no hope, but the truth is that if you kill yourself - there really is NO hope. Where there is life there is hope, but for my niece, there is nothing. No hope, no joy, no life, and many, many, many people in mourning who are struggling with depression because we miss her, and we all feel like we failed her.

I know that no matter how badly I'm feeling about her death, my sister is feeling even worse. I was her aunt not her mom, but it still aches  - so - damn - bad.

Haunted Sister by Lael Littke

When I started reading this book, I was expecting a ghost story, but Littke's novel of a twin who thinks she is possessed by her dead twin, touches on DID. The main character - Janine/Lenore - is even told that DID is a possibility, but Janine believes that in a near death experience, the long dead Lenore has entered her body for a second chance at life.

Overall Littke did a pretty accurate job of describing the fear I felt when I first suspected that someone else was living inside my body. I wondered if I was possessed; I wondered if my soul had split into pieces - if I was a conjoined twin without the other body. I asked, "Can more than one soul dwell in the same body?" I was scared to look in the mirror because I didn't know who would be looking back at me.

This book is written for teens, but I think anyone with DID would enjoy the story. The novel is not a textbook case, but neither is it a Hollywood depiction of DID, which I appreciated. This is a topic I have never come across in a teen novel, and I have read a lot of them. While I am glad to see an author tackle this subject, I worry that someone without background knowledge about DID would become very confused by this story line. I was even confused at times (hell, I'm confused at times about my own life).

This novel gives a lot of room for thought. It brings up society's views toward "crazy" people. It brings up the confusion and struggle of knowing one is not "normal" - whatever that is. It also talks about trauma being the cause of DID and how out of control a person with DID feels in the beginning - and sometimes in the middle and end.

Thank you, Lael Littke for writing about a topic that seldom gets a fair shake. This is as close as I've seen in fiction to actual DID. Remember I said close. No two systems are the same; no two alters are the same; this is a book that is presented as a haunting, and it is fiction. Lenore often acted like a rebellious alter in a system that is not functioning well. Remember that when a system functions well, no one outside of the system (unless they are super emotionally close to the person) can tell that the person has DID. Often it takes years for the person with alters to know about them. Littke has too many people figuring it out in her novel; when in reality, it would only have been one or two if that. However, I am happy to see a book, any book, give DID an opportunity to be seen in a less scary light. Note: those without DID may be scared (or confused) about DID by reading this book, but those with DID may relate in some small way to Janine/Lenore and feel that yes, there is literature out there for us.

Numbing

Numbing – I find I do it a lot. Some of us with DID often feel emotionally numb. It was easier as child to not feel – no anger, sadness, fear, etc. The problem with numbing is that the positive emotions are also numbed. I do it without even thinking about it. I can’t seem to stop it.

The biggest problem with numbing is that it interferes with my relationships with others. I’m sure most of those who love me have called or visited when I am in a numb state. I don’t react to emotional cues, and while sometimes another alter whispers, “Hey, I think you need to respond with more feeling,” or some other such words, often, I don’t realize how cold I’ve been until the person has hung up or left.

I want to apologize to any of my loved ones if I have made you feel like you don’t matter to me. This is one of the hard things about DID. I am often in a wait and see mode – meaning – wait to see what people do or say before I do or say much at all. At times you may be dealing with an alter who isn’t very close to you. Yes, I would like to think that all of my loved ones are adored by the whole system, but that simply isn’t the case. I wish it was, but it isn’t. I hate that it isn’t, and I don’t know what to do about it.

It makes me want to go back into therapy to see if there is a way to make all my alters feel an attachment to all of my loved ones. However, I don’t want to go back into therapy because of the financial burden it places on my husband. Our insurance is not good, and the last time I went, we ended up paying for most of it. Most insurance companies don’t look kindly on mental health issues.

Thinking about this post and my post from a couple of weeks ago – Who Chose This?– made me realize why I chose to be with a man who wasn’t good for me. He made me feel – all the time, and it was good, and yes, I miss feeling that alive. But I don’t miss how out of control it made me feel at times. I also know that he wasn’t good for most of me or for my 3D children.

Just know if you are one of my friends or a loved family member – know that I love you, even when I don’t react the way you think I should. Being robotic is not fun for me either. It reminds me of  The Terminator when Arnold scans things for information on how to act or what to say. Often, I feel like that only without the drive to terminate humans (unless they are rotten people - then I want say, "You're terminated, f*****.").

I Need to Access Information in Another Alter

I need to take a test for re-licensure next week. I studied somewhat for this test while school was in session, and the alter who does school understood what I studied. But now school is out, and today when I tried to study, I didn’t understand anything I read. I know that someone inside knows this stuff. It is times like this that I really hate having DID. This test is expensive, and I need to pass it.

For the most part, I am okay with my DID, but today I need to vent about it. Religion is another hard thing. My host is LDS, but my alters each have different stances on theology – from Catholicism to Atheism. When Saturday night comes around, there is a lot of internal arguing going on about going to church the next day. Several of my alters have no interest in Church – of any kind. If they come out when I am at church, they promptly go to sleep and take me along with them – even when I’ve had enough sleep and am not tired. It is embarrassing.

The church thing I’ve dealt with for years, but the test worries me. I will be at school tomorrow for an hour or two; I hope that if I study right when I get home tomorrow that the alter who needs to be out will be out. I also hope that the right alter will be there for the test. Sometimes DID is not a superpower in any way – it is just a hindrance that causes worry and anxiety.

How do others of you with DID cope with issues like this?

Who Chose This?

While reflecting on life choices - manly men I dated - I wondered which alters picked which men. This started while thinking about my ex-husband and feeling sorry for him for the confusion he must have felt while being married to me.

When I married him, I was young and still undiagnosed with DID. He must have been so mixed up at times. My current husband has commented that being married to me is harder than he thought it would be. He still feels it is worth it though. I am a lot more stable now than during my first marriage. My alters communicate with one another, which helps a lot, but still, all of my men choices were made before I knew about my alters.

As I went through the list, I realized that the shortest relationships were those when only one or two alters chose the man. I have had a lot of internal dialogue asking, "Who chose him?"

"I did."

"Well, you would."

"He was awful."

"No, he was fun." and so forth.

One man asked me out for a year before I said yes. He only appealed to the teacher alter. He made me think, and he was smart. He was also emotionally unstable and very loud which annoyed the hell out of several other alters. We dated for about six months, which surprises me now, but I did learn a lot from him.

Certain alters chose dates based physical characteristics, and that seldom lasted long. Others chose based on what they needed at the time. It is a miracle I ever chose anyone to marry.

Imagine the poor guy who was liked by one alter but hated by a different alter. He is feeling the love, but the next time he sees me, a new alter can't tolerate him and dumps him.

My current husband was chosen by 9 of my 13 alters, which is, I think, a pretty high number of alters agreeing on one person. If I had known about my alters before choosing him, would have chosen anyone at all to be with? I have two alters who have no interest in him, and one alter who likes him because he buys good food, but other than that ignores his presence and rolls her eyes at him if she is out. Nine of the alters like him a lot - for many different reasons. On the whole, he is good for my system and helps everyone feel safe.

Now I find myself questioning my life choices and asking myself, "Who chose this, and is this choice really in the best interest of the system." I can't think about just one alter. All of us need to feel like we are a part the whole in order for the system to function well. I know most working mothers feel like they perform a balancing act in order to do it all. I also feel that work hard to give my others balance. I may need another alter just to balance alters (joking – sort of) :) Maybe this is true cloning - we look the same (on the outside) but we all have different responsibilities.

I guess DID is the real way to be more than one person. I knew DID was a superpower; however, I think my poor husband who has to put up with 13 different personalites is the real superhero.

Trust

One of my students shared a poem he wrote with me. He is quite good with words, and I told him so. I asked him if he wanted to share his poem at our poetry night, but he said, "I'm good with words but not so good with people."

I can accept that.

He asked, "Do you want to know where I get all my ideas for poetry?"

"Sure."

"I'll tell you some other day."

Today was that some other day. He took me aside saying, "Not where anyone else can hear."

"Okay."

"I am only telling you this because I trust you. The ideas don't come from me. I think I have multiple personalities, but different, not like the out of control people who really have it. I have a voice who tells me these poems, and there are other voices too."

"You know, not everyone who has multiple personality disorder is out of control," I said. "I know a little bit about it, and what you see represented in Hollywood is not the reality."

"Well, mine is like it but different. I'm don't act crazy or anything."

I just smiled and accepted his gift of trust, and I know that someday he may figure it all out. I trust that he will be okay because he has a good support system, and he is a remarkable young man. I am saddened that I cannot share what I know about DID with him.

I am thankful that he trusts me. He is a warm, sweet student full of hope and wonder. I don't know if he really has DID or something else, but it is sad that we live in a world where we can't safely talk about the other voices in our heads because doing so will cause others to think we are crazy. This young man is an incredibly creative, shy, quiet, intelligent, gentle soul, but he worries that those who he cannot trust will label him crazy if they knew the source of his poetry.

I say this often, but I pray for a day when all of us are valued for all parts of us - even those parts that the outside world cannot see.

Forget What Doesn't Matter

Today I started reading, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. She begins the book with the words, "I Hadn't so much forgot as I couldn't bring myself to remember. Other things were more important" (Angelou 1).

I like these words. I often obsess about remembering - I think this is common in those with DID. Sometimes it is important to remember, but as Angelou says, sometimes other things are more important.

I need to trust the process, put things behind me, and focus on my huge list of more important things.

My list:
I have a wonderful husband, children, family, and friends.
I love my job.
I love my home and garden.
I have books that help me heal and learn.
Today is beautiful.
I have plenty of good food in the house.
Heavenly Father and Jesus love me.

I hope today you can focus on the more important things.

Annie

Little One

Alone she hides in the cold white dark

shivering

until the silent scream starts and others come to shush her

trying to keep her and them safe from strangers who hurt and mar

stuffing the scream back inside before it can be heard

 – never heard outside,

choking her with bitter fear and darkness

inside a white ghost of a girl.

Nightmare

For the first time in a long time, I had a nightmare about my dad where he was in control. I used to have dreams all the time where he was in control, but for the last several years, I have been in control in those dreams. He says, "I want to call you."
I shove him up against the wall by the throat and say, "You can't call me because you don't know how to respect boundaries." He becomes small and the dream ends.

A couple of nights ago, I dreamed I was walking with my older sister, and Dad was walking the other direction and passed us on the sidewalk. He was really tall - he seemed like he was seven feet tall. Ann turned and watched him walk away with sadness in her eyes. I said, "Just let him go. Don't let him know you care." But she called to him. As she called to him, he turned around and punched her in the face - right in the nose (he did this in real life many, many years ago).

I was so mad; I grabbed him and punched him back, but my punch had no effect on him. He grabbed me and punched me, and I woke up. I wondered why he had power again in my dreams.

This dream has made me think about where I am in my life. Granted, I do have a lot going on right now. I have a child who is having some health issues; I am switching to a new grade next year; we are doing some remodeling on our house, and life in general is busy, but I didn't feel like I was out of control (which means not in control in my life - not that I have gone around the bend or anything like that).

Although sometimes a dream is just a dream, sometimes they can show me where I need to put focus in my awake life. I know that meeting all the new doctors and workmen takes a toll on me - especially those who wear beards. I mean really - shave for Heaven's sake! I just try to avert my eyes in order to get business done, but I struggle, and I feel yucky inside. The men with beards must think there is something quite wrong with the woman who won't look them in the face, but looking at a beard makes me want to retch.

I will be glad when the projects are done, and I can stop meeting so many new people. To those of you who love to meet new people, I commend you and wish I had that ability. I get so stressed wondering if the new people will trigger me in some way. I always have a prayer that they will be clean shaven, but that doesn't always work.

I just hope the next dream about dad has me back in control and him leaving me the hell alone.

"Better off Dead"

Listening to Adults talk:

“Such a shame.”

“A horrible crime.”

“Ruined.”

“Better off Dead.”

If she’d remembered then, would she have felt virginity is valued above all?

Even more so than self?

Even more than an eight-year-old's joy of trees and flowers?

Even virginity ripped away in violence instead of gifted in love or passion?

Worth more than life?

Ruined?

Am I Ruined?

Did the littles remember and hide even deeper, so they would not be, “Better off Dead?”

Or

Did she think, “If someone did that to my sister, I’d still love her, still want her here with me instead of just Dead and Still in the grave, hymen torn or missing, wasting and rotting in a ruined body.”

Isn’t the girl worth more than the act?

The strength of soul and spirit can overcome the battle, but can it overcome knowing that those who gave her life lumped her in the “Better off Dead” category without knowing she is one of who they speak?

Every fiber of her being stretches toward the Light of Life and Love.

Isn’t she worth more by coming through the Refiner’s fire, weakness burned away and replaced by compassion and hate, caring and distrust, strength and vulnerability, joy and sorrow, purity and soil, more and less, different yet the same, but mostly better off still being here?

Happy Independence Day to my Daughter revisited

Today is my daughter's telling day. I am proud of her, but I know that even though she has now made this a day to celebrate her courage, it is still a hard day for her.

I want her to know that I love her so much. I hope that her courage will lead others out of the dark secret of abuse.

I love you little twinkie!

Mom

Independence Day

Glitter

She sits in the wreckage of her dreams,
Hopelessly trying to fit the shards together,
But the pieces don’t fit anymore,
So she stuffs them in her pockets and her heart,
And continues on, forgetting, until the shards bleed to be known.

In fear, she struggles to cast them away.
They hurt, but the cast clings to her – owning her,
And she owning them.
She understands that where she was one,
Now she is one of many.
Not what she once was, or what she once could have been,
But what she is now.

And the pieces glitter where there is no light.

How DID Affects My Life

I received an email message from a reader of my blog. I will try to answer some of his questions. 

For my writing class, I am writing a research paper about the personal effects of DID, as very few people even think such a disorder, using an incorrect word from the acronym, exists. I would really appreciate it if you could, along with your name so I can give you credit, send me some of your most important experiences that have affected your personal life. I plan on reading some entries from your blog, along with other blogs, so if you can just tell me the really important personal effects, like effects on a job or relationships, and I can pick out the minor effects, it would be greatly appreciated. If you would not like to e-mail me anything, that is fine. It is also fine if you give me a fake name, but I would prefer, if you chose to do this, to at least tell me that you are using an alias.

Thanks,

Rob Maxfield

Hi Rob,

Thanks for commenting on my blog. At this time, I am not comfortable attaching my name to my blog because as you said in your message, “very few people even think this disorder even exists.” Between Hollywood’s portrayal of DID and society’s stereotypes of DID, most people would be very uncomfortable knowing that their child’s teacher has DID.

DID affected my life before I even knew I had it. I thought everyone had conversations going on in their head. I thought I struggled to remember people – that I had a bad memory. I thought others also had to leave work when a huge trigger popped up, and I was thankful for a flexible job that allowed that when my system was in crisis. Thankfully at this time, my system is functioning well because the job I have now is not flexible at all.

When meeting people or going to a new place for the first time, I am very shy because until my alter “no one” knows who and what the system will be experiencing, everyone else stays inside. No one doesn’t often feel emotion and can analyze a situation better than any other part.  I have heard that I am stuck up, or that I think I am better than everyone else. I have been told by friends and co-workers that I am completely different than they first thought. Of course the person they know is the alter who wants to know them. Different people bring out different alters, so who one friend may know is not always the same as the alter another friend may know.

Having DID meant being afraid that the person I wanted to marry would run away when I told him about all my baggage. I was lucky to find someone who loved me anyway. Of course when we married neither of us knew that I had DID. I had suspicions for years, but what I experienced was not like what I had seen in the movies, so I set those worries aside. I was lucky to marry someone who said after my diagnosis, “It doesn’t matter; I love all of you.”

Having DID means not recognizing people I should recognize (like my mother and sister). It means play acting until the stranger I should know gives enough information (clues) to trigger the correct alter to come forward and take over.

DID means feeling completely out of control when I was first diagnosed, to feeling like I have a super power now that I have learned to deal with everything. It also means making adjustments and meeting more parts than I thought I had at first. It means learning to love and appreciate all the alters and their contributions to the wellness of the system – even those who are hard to love. They all have a purpose – it just has to be figured out.

Having DID means coming to grips with the abuse that landed me in this spot. It means mourning a person who can never exist because of the horror another person planted in my life. It means seeking and finding forgiveness and letting go of the rage that I felt toward that person. It means comforting little alters who still get scared when situations trigger those old memories or sending them to their safe place when I fight adult battles.

DID changes everything and affects every single part of my life. But I am okay; I function quite well, and I have a beautiful life. I am grateful for my family and friends who know about my diagnosis and love and support me anyway.

Thank you for your questions,
Sunshine

Crisis Switching

Usually when I am at school, I am in teacher mode and don't even think about my life outside of school, but one of my children has recently had some health problems, so I had to go to school co-conscious with the mother. I spent my lunch and prep on the phone with doctors, and when my next class came in, I couldn't switch back to Trina. It was a good thing that she had left detailed notes on the board for me to follow. I felt like a bad sub. One of my students kept looking at me like she was thinking, "Who are you, and what have you done with our teacher."

Is that how it is for people without DID when they have a crisis? Can you only think of that one thing, or are you able to still function and remember all your other duties? It is times like this that being a single would be helpful - unless singles also can't remember stuff when a crisis comes.

Luckily my child will be fine (hopefully) and the medication will work.

The Traveling Red Dress or Blue Stone

I've been following Jenny Lawson's blog - the bloggess and came across this post: the traveling red dress. Although I don't want a red dress - partly because I wear red a lot already, so I don't feel I need one - I deny my alters many things that they want because they are impracticable. In this post Jenny says, "I want to be shocking and vivid and wear a dress as intensely amazing as the person I so want to be. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how often we deny ourselves that red dress and all the other capricious, ridiculous, overindulgent, and silly things that we desperately want but never let ourselves have because they are simply 'not sensible'."

Which brings us to my alter Laura. You meet Laura whenever you read my blog. She does most of the writing. If you have eaten a good meal at my house, you have eaten her cooking. She is also responsible for the cleaning of my house, which may or may not get done if she isn't out. She is responsible for keeping our system running smoothly because she is very organized. You have not however, ever spoken to Laura because she doesn't talk. Laura is gentle and her favorite color is not the favorite color of any other one of my alters. She loves blue - soft blue - lightest blue - nearly white, a color I never wear.

She saw a necklace she wanted, but I immediately shut her down, saying, "But we don't have anything to wear it with. There is no point in getting it." Because Laura isn't verbal, she gets shut down a lot. She normally quietly retreats to the background.

But this time, she was empowered by the words of Jenny Lawson, and reminded me that although it doesn't match anything in the closet, it matches her. So I ordered the necklace for her. It came with earrings that she won't wear because although my ears are pierced, hers are not.

When the necklace arrived, Laura was so excited. She quickly put it on and lovingly caressed it. She felt loved and cared about by the system because although no one else may ever see the necklace, she got to wear it and touch it and feel loved.

Shadow comes out sometimes when I am shopping, and she buys odd, bright little treasures that appeal to her. Grownup and Glory do all the clothing shopping which is why nearly everything in our closet is red or green. Louisa is able to snag a few things in peach, but this annoys Grownup and Glory, but Laura, being quiet and helpful, never until now has bought anything for herself.

Now if I could just convince my husband to spend thousands of dollars to put all the things I've pinned on pinterest into our home. While spending thousands to upgrade our home into a DIDer's fantasy land isn't sensible, a small inexpensive necklace is. And Laura deserves the happiness it brings her. After all, she keeps the system running smoothly.

EEG and the DID Brain

I want to have an EEG just to see what happens in my brain when some of my alters are out. I've read that a DID brain reacts differently depending on the alter, and this will show up on an EEG. I wish there was a way to have one without having my name attached to it or it attached to my medical records. It would be interesting to see which parts of my brain are controlled by my different alters.

Maybe someday, I'll get to have this done, and my alters will feel validated.

Have any of my readers who are DID had an EEG? If so, what did you discover?

I'm Okay

No really, I am okay. When I was first diagnosed with DID, I was scared to death of what that meant for me and my life, but now three years later, I am okay. I am almost always co-conscious which is good because that means I don't lose time as much as I used to. I have alters that I prefer to be than others, but all of my alters play a role in keeping me healthy. DID is not as scary as it once was now that I know it isn't what Hollywood portrays it to be. I am thankful for that knowledge. I am thankful that DID was just a very creative way for me as little girl to survive abuse and still thrive. I am okay.

On another subject I saw a promo for a new movie called Unitard. I am annoyed by the name of this movie. In the clip, the actors said, "It is the combination of unity and, well, you know 'tard." I try hard to teach my student not to use the "R" word, and now popular culture makes it seem okay. This frustrates me. The trailer for this movie was painful to watch - it looks incredibly poorly written. I hope it tanks and that not many of my students will watch it. Yuck and boo to the producers who think the R word is funny.

Dave Hingsburger wrote a wonderful piece titled People Who "Are" the R Word. Check it out if you have a few minutes.

Psychopath?

I wasn't sure what to write about until I came across this article online tonight. The title really bothered, and the article also bothers me.

First of all I don't think it is funny or professional to make fun of mental illness. I also think that the boys this woman works with have a right to privacy - a right to not be poked fun of in the media.

The article is titled: "My Story: Learning to love 'my little psychopaths'" by Shelby Scoffield. Of course 'my little psychopaths' is in quotes, so of course we can see that she doesn't really mean it. She is just joking, so it is allright - right? Are the boys she works with psychopaths in the true sense of the word? Possibly. However, that doesn't mean that giving them this label publicly is the right thing to do.

Definition of a psychopath:

Also called: sociopath a person afflicted with a personality disorder characterized by a tendency to commit antisocial and sometimes violent acts and a failure to feel guilt for such acts. Source: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/psychopath I have met psychopaths. I would say that I probably lived with one while I was growing up. But it isn't a joke. Maybe I am just a bit sensitive because my own mental illness could cost me my job because people do not understand DID - they fear it. I do know that if I published stories of my students using their names and pictures in a way that violated FERPA laws, I would lose my job. I am shocked and saddened that this teacher did this. ***Edited to add: I see that the online news station changed the title of the story and took down the picture of the young men. I am glad, but I still think the story is awful. I can see that many of the comments express the same things I felt last night.

Happy New Year 2012

I don't make New Year's resolutions because I don't keep New Year's resolutions. I do, however, choose one little word each year. We started this tradition last year, and because I liked it, I will do it again.

This year my word is "write." This means that I will attempt to write every day. I have started a novel and a memoir, so between those two things and my blogs, I will try to write every day.

Do you make resolutions or do you choose one little word?