Words

I spent most of today helping Sissyface pack up her basement. We hadn't planned it that way--she asked if I'd come keep her company while she worked, and I ended up being her little helper as just standing around was way too boring.

After a few hours we decided it was break time. We collapsed on her couch and ended up, in some convoluted way (I don't remember how we got onto the subject) discussing our mutual DID. We talked about everything from how it affected our past relationships with men (negative, all the way through) to how we can't even wrap our minds around something as complicated as Dissociative Identity Disorder. We discovered that each of us, at some point in our past attempts to be involved with a man, eventually reached a point of feeling like our mother, right down to actually feeling as if we were wearing her remote expression. We even ended up in each relationship with the odd (creepy) sensation of being in our mother's body.

How do you nurture your parts, we wondered aloud. Should we even try? Isn't life much easier when we simply ignore our systems? This was a meandering conversation with no real conclusion, but it felt good to talk about this as we so seldom do. I felt a mild hysteria halfway through, and got a bad case of the stutters. I like these type of dialogues and at the same time they make me uncomfortable. As Sissyface pointed out, the more you deal with your DID the more you're triggered and the more issues resurface. But is there a viable option, some place in between being DID obsessed and feigning ignorance of one's fragmented mind?

I sweat about this a lot, I do, so certain that I'm not doing this right. Crud, goes my line of thinking, I didn't get it right as an abused child (why didn't I spill the beans?), and now I can't get multiplicity right. What does "healthy" multiplicity look like anyway? Are there brownie points for being so stoic that one barely acknowledges one's disorder, or is it plain cowardice to do so? I told Sissyface that on my blog I'm either blogging about DID related subjects, or writing about my knitting and grandkids. No in between. And it feels unnatural to me, but I don't know how to find a happy medium. She told me that she thinks it's a good thing that not every post is strictly DID centered. What about the individual who has just been diagnosed with DID and wants desperately to find something on the internet that will help them cope with this new knowledge about themselves, but who aren't ready just yet for too much intensity? Maybe, she reasoned, that person would benefit from reading a blog like mine where there are other emphasis other than multiplicity.

I don't know if she's right, I only know that I hobble along in my disjointed way writing out of an extreme sense of disorientation, just as I do everything else. Nothing quite fits together cohesively; every bit of every day is a series of jerky motions as I putter about my home. What I mean by this is that one minute I'm sweeping the kitchen floor and the next I'm in my room, near tears, wondering why the thought of making my bed is so distressing, or why I can't simply move on to the next chore without feeling such a sense of unreality. I have a strong startle reaction because of my PTSD; seeing someone out of context scares the daylights out of me. But the thing is, it's not just that. My whole life is made up of segments divided into minutes and hours each of which feel out of context. I can't relate them to anything, I don't know how I relate to the world and so everything I do feels like an out-of-body experience.

I don't like not being in control. Having DID means not being in control. Not that anyone has total control of their life, I know that in some peripheral region of my mind. Since I have this disorder it seems that the least I could ask for is some way of controlling it. How unfair that I can't! How shameful, even. There's been so much outer chaos in my life that the reality of my inner chaos is nearly unbearable. I want to rein everyone in, all of my parts from the youngest to the eldest, sit them down and make them all fold their hands and listen to me. I'm not sure what I'd say, exactly. Something about taking it down a notch or two so I can concentrate on the outside world, maybe a stern admonition for everyone to pull their own weight and let me get on with my life, already. Something like that. Only something tells me what a fiasco this would be. Something tells me that this is one area in which I will never have the control I so need so as to not feel like an abused child.

My head aches from all this talk and thinking about DID. Looking at the subject from the outside (as I used to be able to do before my diagnosis) may be a bit intriguing or fascinating. But living it? Huh-uh. There aren't words to describe what it's like, though words are all I have and they will just have to do.

Comments

[Austin]

First off, it is not your job to cure the world. That job opening has been filled. If you, however, wish to help then rest assured you are doing so. If there is no middle ground on your blog then it reflects what most lives reflect........no middle ground. The other thing is this, a person can take from your blog that not every waking moment is about their disorder. They can feel other things, they can love and be loved. They still hurt and still need healing BUT they are more than their disorder. Despite having DID they can take on different enjoyable tasks which sometimes are used as an escape. That's okay to do, to escape in something enjoyable. They'll learn from your blog to hold tightly to their dreams. They'll learn that despite DID a person can be the anchor for their family and the one everyone loves unconditionally. There's a lot to be learned on your blog. You don't have to show us how to manage a hectic life or find true happiness, we have the Bible for that.
I glean a lot from your blog even when you talk about knitting, your grandchildren and so on. Its a gentle reminder that I can focus on more in life than where I came from.

Austin

[beauty]

Thanks, Austin.

[Tracie]

I have to say that for me personally, being a SA survivor, I get lots of encouragement from your blog. Seeing how you work hard at working through things. I also enjoy seeing the lighter side of your life (especially the knitting side!!) Maybe you do achieve a little bit of that balance here that you are striving for in your "real life", even if it doesn't seem like it to you.
I often find myself questioning everything I do and wondering if this is the normal, or if this is born out of the abuse. It is like having a pair of glasses with one lens that is correct and one is distorted, and I never can tell which one I am using (does that make sense??) And to try to see through both of them at once is too confusing.

On your knitting question...we don't have a digital camera, so it is a little hard, but I am going to try to take some pics before I mail them out and get them put on a cd so that I can post them. By the time I get them developed it might be a couple of weeks though.

[beauty]

Tracie,

What you said about the 2 different lenses makes perfect sense to me. I never thought of it that way, but that is exactly what it's like living with DID.

I'll be glad to see the pics whenever you get a chance to post them!

[Marcy]

((((Beauty))))

I still think that a worthy therapist would bring both more certain peace and more productive turmoil to your life.