My first 8 months

October 13, 2010

Recently I began to use the term “littles”. I have been avoiding that word because then I would actually be relating to other DID folk and would no longer consider myself special or unique. It would mean that there are other people out there with similar consequences to similar experiences. It may even mean that I actually exist, which I haven’t believed for most of my life.

If I admit  that there are little girls inside that chatter, play, scream and need hugs then I need to realize I was terribly abused and these beautiful girls came out and took the damage. They made sure I was able to continue living.

I don’t feel guilty that I, the host, was not there. I feel guilty because all this time I have been holding up the curtain and it’s time to let it fall and clean up backstage.

So, I have littles. I have a young man who is awesome at video games, especially arcade games. I have a New Age hippie who sometimes wants to know if I will getting any pot soon. I have more alters than I know, and I have a very dark place, way in the back, where there are even more.

I few days ago I wrote some prose for everyone and it is having an interesting effect inside.

All of these memories I have happened to this one body.
This one body experienced the abuse and trauma.
We are all connected within this one body.
We own these memories.
We own these experiences.
This is our physical body.
These are our collective memories.

That’s it. Nothing memorable. There has been a bit of shuffling inside as a result of it, though. I also felt okay talking about littles and alters in therapy today.

I talk about being DID, but I don’t feel that I could possibly be DID.

I understand we go back and forth with this diagnosis. I feel I have been “playing” DID until recently, and I didn’t want to write about this because I didn’t want people to lose hope or trust in me. Meredith is right about the first year (Damn her! :p) being so difficult and unbelievable. I had no idea. It’s a confusing maze and I don’t know which way to turn.

I’m not sure I’m even making sense.

 

Advertisements

poem

September 20, 2010

Not here, nor there
or anywhere

Up, up, up she goes

Silly girl
you can’t fly

So down, down, down
and a great big thud

Deep, deep, deep she tries
the dark, dark sees
and the dark knows

And the dark puts her
here or there
or anywhere

Where she is nobody knows

One little, two little, three little Xanax

Four little, five little, six little Trileptal

Seven little, eight little, nine little Abilify

Ten little psychiatric drugs!

Everybody sing!

One little, two little, three little Wellbutrin

Four little, five little, six little more Xanax

Seven little, Eight little, nine little coping techniques to help with flasbacks

Ten little things I never expected I’d need after being diagnosed DID!

+++++Keep moving…..nothing to see here….+++++

Hubby inherited a little money from his grandmother, so what do we buy? Underwear and gloves. We are so exciting. Maybe we will move on to the exciting world of pencils and erasers next.

+++++Please ma’am, let the professionals do their job….+++++

Tomorrow morning I have a GYN appointment. I’m going to make sure the younger ones are safe and secure and hope my sexual self-injuries are healed. Maybe I won’t need an exam since it is a follow-up. I hope, I hope. I’m scared. If she sees it will she want me hospitalized? I already rescheduled once because of my sexual self-injurious behavior, but she is busy and I need a new prescription for my endo.

I don’t relax anymore. Pace, pace, pace….. I have sewed 6 curtains, one pair of capris, a mixer cover, two oven mitts, 2 aprons, a hot pad, and crocheted a shawl, coasters, and decorative hangings over the past week. I have cooked up a storm and cleaned a lot, too. If I relax they will all start talking and I’ll just cry and cry. If I fall asleep the nightmares will start and I can’t wake myself up from them. I’m stuck. The therapist asked me to take it easy and look what happened. At least I’m productive and not taking it out on myself or drinking anymore.

Meds are making me sleepy. Hello nightmares. Good night you lovely people.

early morning poem

May 22, 2010

You go-go-go, can’t stop thinking/doing/moving all day

You shove/stuff it down-down-down where it seethes/writhes/wriggles

Clean-cook-shop-phone-laundry-kids and the day is done

You have avoided dealing with feelings/memories/alters/truth/yourself

You slip into unconsciousness

And it throws images/facts/people/places/symbols

And you toss-turn-moan-flail-awake

And it never went away

Because you cannot not know/remember it

Because you must see it and look at it and feel it

Again and again

Until it exhausts itself