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.