This morning I have an appointment with my GYN. It’s both for a trans-vaginal ultrasound for ovarian cysts (endometriosis) and a follow-up for the horrible things I do to my body. The sexual self-injury has been worse lately. I think the more depressed I am the more compulsive I am about it. I wonder if she will want to speak with my therapist, and I know she was going to speak to a male OB/GYN about it (with my permission) because he has experience with sexual assault victims. It has been 20 years since I have seen a male OB/GYN, but he performed my first endo laparoscopic surgery (I was unconscious, so I never actually saw him do anything) and I do trust him a smidgen.

My appointment is in a couple of hours, so………Let the pacing begin!

I don’t pay enough attention to my younger parts. They tell me their stories, but they don’t often get to play or express themselves. Part of the reason is that they trigger me. Even my own girls trigger me. It’s very frustrating. I have tried several times to color, paint, write, etc., but nothing comes out. I’m just frozen, and that’s a bit like how I was as a child as far as I can remember. So, Kate1975 has this great list of activities for younger parts and I’m trying some with the girls (and my son if he wants to).

So, my first project is the painted garden sticks project:

I primed the sticks and we have 3 sticks each. The girls are excited about doing this one.

I’ll take a picture when they’re finished, too. It’s really hard to connect with the younger parts and I don’t know why. They are willing to share some of their experiences but that’s about it. I can’t even remember what I did or enjoyed as a child. An important thing I do remember is my friend’s mother teaching me how to crochet when I was 8 years old. That’s it as far as fun, creative things.

How do you connect with the little ones?


It’s been about 2 hours or so and we finished some and placed them in the garden:

This is hubby’s flower garden. The plant behind the garden sticks is actually a huge pokeweed. I broke the news to hubby last week that it wasn’t going to be a flower, but it’s still a cool-looking plant.

Even while we painted these I didn’t feel any connection to the little ones. Maybe I need to just keep working on it.

…my husband was more like the Stepford wives

…all coffee tasted as nice as Dunkin’ Dark

…Dunkin’ Dark wasn’t so expensive

…clothing was guaranteed always-ironed, all-the-time

…dogs were the sweetest-smelling creatures ever

…thinking about exercising was good enough

…I had a Time Manipulator Ray Gun

…there was enough food to feed teenagers

…arthritis actually meant “Your body will only become stronger over time.”

…crocheting and knitting went faster

…my imaginary telekinetic powers were real

…one of my alters was a superhero that looked like this picture below (my hair is red, too) and was known as Dissociative Identity Disorder Woman (DIDW for short). She would roam the world offering support and assistance to DIDer’s everywhere and slay the causes of their DID. The people would shout, “Look! It’s a wounded bird! No, it’s a woman with an inconceivably large weapon! Wait! It’s Dissociative Identity Disorder Woman and her Lance of Therapeutic Value!” (DIDW and her LOTV for short)

Okay. That’s enough. I have to get to work.


June 26, 2010

I feel like the doll in this box:

Aware but weary. Not completely put together yet, but not too terribly concerned about it, either. Unable to control my own destiny and reliant upon others to my detriment because if they don’t help me I can’t help myself. I just exist.

There are so many things to remember these days…….grounding techniques, coping skills, comfort ideas, leftovers in the refrigerator, grocery list, chores, daily-need-to-get-done list, appointments…………

I need to have all of my lists tattooed on my forehead with the lettering backwards so I can read them in the mirror.

Therapist: “If you get to the point where you feel that you are seriously thinking about suicide then I want you to call me so we can work through it.”

Me: “Why? If I’m going to do it I won’t tell anyone. The kids will probably end up in therapy some day anyway, and this will just give them a head start. If I were to tell you then I may be in a hospital, hubby would have to stay home, family and his co-workers would want to know why, and it would be embarrassing and unnecessary. Everyone would treat me different and funny when I came home, and I’ve had enough of being treated funny. Better to go and be done with it then make a big deal about it. I won’t tell you or anybody else. It’s my decision.”

So, yeah, that’s how therapy ended this afternoon. I think I hurt her feelings and I feel bad about that, but I feel like a big disappointment in general, so it’s par for the course.

I had so many questions and she really helped to answer them or at least tell me how to start finding the answers.

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve learned what many of the alter’s jobs are in my system. There is still chaotic communication, competition, and blatant take-overs, but…I’m learning. Coping techniques are out the window for now. I spend a lot of time remembering to breathe and touching the things around me (“There’s a chair.” “That is my cold drink.” “Here is the cat.” “I am safe now.”) to help ground myself.

Memories of abuse have taken a different turn as I’ve learned there were two separate things going on (The insiders are saying “Duh!”). Some important things are making much more sense now. That’s good. I could still do without reliving the events over again, but then couldn’t we all?

I really, really like the collage idea of Meredith’s, but I need to do it when the girls aren’t around or they will take all of the good pictures! You think I’m joking……. I’ll make separate collages with them another time. Kate1975 has some great ideas over here, too:

My therapist wants to see me a little more often. Gosh, I wonder why? I was being honest. I’m not going to sit there and lie to her. The whole point of this is to manage myselves and live better, but sometimes I just don’t wanna no more. Pffttt…….

So it’s a horrendous day, I can’t focus, and my car is still in the shop which means some horrible disaster will happen at school and I’ll have no way to get there. Then I started thinking…think, think, look at the computer screen… think, think, look at the keyboard (yes, it’s still there)…think, think…..ah yes…

*****possible triggers*****

Reading blogs is often triggering, which is okay. Sometimes that’s the best way to bring certain issues to the surface so I can help myself or even realize them. I’m never upset about that. Rather, I appreciate that one is willing to lay it out and share their experience with others. Reading other’s stories, questions, perceived failures and susscesses is one of the few things I look forward to.

I think I may have a point here…..soon……maybe not… First, a question: How do you feel about purposely triggering yourself to get information about your personal history? (Yeah I have done that before and there is much wailing and knashing of teeth.)

Another question: What the hell does it mean if I’m carrying a stuffed animal, a sex toy, and Avon catalogues in my purse at the same time? (I’m thinking different ages put them in at different times, but I just noticed them together tonight when my daughter asked to play with my phone. She didn’t find all those things, though.)

From your personal therapeutic and non-therapeutic experience how far off kilter am I, and what would be some good questions to ask in therapy? You get full credit for any suggeations and ideas. It’s hard to see what’s going on from the inside, and the inside is a mess. I am beginning to think that certain children are taking advantage of this, too. “Oh no, Mom. You said I could have it. You just forgot.”, or, “No I didn’t do that. You probably did that and just don’t remember.”. Me sees a mutiny a-risin’!

Finally, it is not easy to respect your alters when they have no respect for you. I know it’s still early on in DID World, and it can be normal for there to be internal chaos, but I’ve lost control and anarchy has ensued. I don’t know if I’m dissociating or switching or what. That’s a question I have for the therapist on Thursday.  This post made no sense. Oh, don’t act like you’re surprised! Now it’s time for some sleep.

For Castorgirl

June 22, 2010

Hey! You were kind enough to do something for me, so here is my end of the bargain (not a bargain, really, I’m quite cheap!).

One name plate:

One baby sunflower:

And then it rained:

Thank you!

Stupid, angry post

June 20, 2010

It feels like everything is a lie – me being here, my marriage, my life, my likes and dislikes, my children, my dogs. I don’t know who’s eyes I’m seeing out of but I don’t like it. I’m always ranting, too. Just one time I would like to offer up some intelligent and informative posts.

Today I remembered how I used to comfort myself when I was little and how ashamed I felt doing it, but I didn’t know what else to do. Sometimes when a memory comes through I remember how I used to remember. I don’t remember what I was doing 5 minutes ago lately.

I wish I wrote more intelligently and coherently. My brain just spills onto the computer anymore. I haven’t accomplished shit in this life. I don’t see what the purpose of me is, so one of the kids better win a Nobel Prize or something.

This summer is going to be a real challenge between not seeing my therapist as often, having little privacy or alone time with the kids home, and buffering the kids from the hubby’s stupidity. How will I write in my journals, or write here, or do therapy homework?

I want to write stupid, corny things like, “This is too much. I can’t go on this way.”, “I’m just going to stay the way I am. No more therapy.”, or “Goodbye world. Kids, fend for yourselves.”. But I don’t want to hear about how this too shall pass, I’ll get through, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, because I’ve heard that soooo many times and I think it’s shit. It’s not going to end, or it’s not going to end until I end it one way or another.

I have to go do something active and physical. Maybe that will help.

There was a disturbing flashback yesterday and I wanted to know more, but inside I felt, “Do you really? Because we will show you more, but you may not be able to handle it.”. I thought I could handle it, and I did, but at a cost (couldn’t eat dinner, needed to remind myself to breathe, all those fun things). That reminded me of what has been happening inside with my alters as I work towards better internal communication. At first I thought it was layers of me, then I thought maybe a hierarchy, but it’s just the way my brain functions.

So, this is me learning about who inside does what. I would love to hear if it’s similar to what other people experience, because now (at least today) I truly believe I have DID. Inside there is/are:

A historian

Many little girls between the ages of 4 and 9

Girls who act like they enjoyed and deserved the abuse

A boy (didn’t expect that because I hate men)

A very angry, sarcastic, self-sabotaging girl

A very spiritual, the-Universe-will-provide hippie girl

A few girls who repeatedly act out the abuse and sexually self-injure

Many fragmented parts that hold snippets of memories

Most have names and the personalities are very distinct. When someone feels something, tries to communicate, or jumps in I usually know who it is now. I don’t consider them distinct from the whole, but they are fairly complete personalities unto themselves. I know where some of their names come from, too. That ‘s neat. We are just starting to really work together, in both a good and bad way, and many more are aware of each other than before. This often creates arguments and competition, though.

I’m not sure if I’m switching often or if they are playing with my memory, or both, but I’m back to forgetting everything again. For example, leaving the room for one reason and getting involved in a completely different activity without finishing what I left the room for in the first place. That was a convoluted sentence. Does that make sense?

I also feel like I’m on automatic. I’ll get an itch and scratch it but it feels numb. Someone asks a question and I respond without thinking, but it’s the correct response (however I did not authorize the response nor was the correct paperwork filed and stamped properly). It doesn’t feel like I’m co-conscious. It doesn’t really feel like anything. Even now my fingers aren’t hitting the right keys, I have to keep re-typing, and I’m forgetting what point this post is even for. Maybe I’ll stop now and look for a picture…

Okay….this is how I feel:

Difficult time. Memories, body memories, can’t relax, moving-moving, crying, hiding, shaking, feeling I don’t belong here, and all the regular stressors. This song came to mind when I was hunched over sobbing and shaking:

I just want to sink, sink, sink. I know that’s not what the song is about, but I believe it can be interpreted in different ways.