Tag Archives: dissociation

Popcorn everywhere

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Police sirens = shaking. Always. The cackle of the radio that the officers wear renders me foggy, and makes me want to hide.

I never understood any of this until yesterday’s session.

Doc asks for Ronnie. Somehow we start talking about Ronnie’s earliest memory. She remembers sitting in a red recliner with sister Cate. It was popcorn day at school, 25 cents a bag, and she’s clutching it tightly. There’s a picture of a clown on the front of the popcorn bag.

There was yelling. Mom and Dad were yelling. Dad finds a hammer on top of the refrigerator. He tries to hit Mom over the head with it, but Mom fights him. She grabs it from him. He’s too drunk. They are fighting over the hammer. There’s popcorn everywhere. Ronnie held the bag so hard that the bag ripped right through the clown face on the bag. Then Mom’s crying and flipping through a phone book again and again. Dad is gone.

Doc asks Ronnie what happened between the hammer and the phone book. She does not know. I do not know. He asks if anyone inside knows what happened in between the hammer and the phone book. I start shaking, and Belle starts talking.

Belle said she kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to see. She heard the police come, the sirens. Then she knew they were moving around in the room because she could hear the radios with the loud cackle. She heard the handcuffs click.

Doc then asked me if I had been aware of Ronnie’s memories. Yes, I was aware. Those memories were not new. He then asked me if I was aware of Belle’s memories. I was not. I always recalled the end of that memory with hammer, popcorn and phone book, and nothing in between hammer and phone book except for popcorn. This was new information.

And then it dawned on me that this could be why police sounds freak me out. I’m told that this is progress, good news. It doesn’t feel like either.

Oh, yes, the parents

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I received a mysterious text from my mother, though when I read it my assessment is that my stepfather likely typed it. It just doesn’t “sound” like her, and I’m pretty good at assessing things such as this.

Apparently they are going to be within 200 miles of me the first week of August for a memorial service for a family member whom I never met. I think it’s a great uncle. It looks like they want me to come see them when they are in the vicinity. I guess 200 miles is considered the vicinity when they are usually over 2,200 miles away.

For some reason I felt bad looking at that text, like I’m cruelly rejecting them. I consulted with my sister, Cate, and she advised not to go. She pointed out that they were never there for me when I needed them. She doesn’t have to worry about this as she lives clear across the country, nowhere near me. I know she’s right. Annoyingly, she is always right. It’s not that I want to see them, not at all. The guilt just sometimes haunts me, and I wish I could shake it.

In writing this post I’ve also realized that this text may be the reason I had such a hard time Sunday and parts of Monday. I received the text on Sunday, but promptly forgot about it. But I think others did not forget about it.

I take no pleasure in ignoring my mother and stepfather. But that’s how it has to be.

It got better

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Today is better. Thank you all for the support yesterday. I think the heat was initially triggering, and then going from being around a great group of people nearly every waking hour for a week to being essentially alone was a bit much for the system, the peeps.

A special shout out to K for the unexpected reach out from yesterday’s post. Thanks for helping me get grounded again. It’s what I needed.

There was a bit of dissociative sleeping last night, but it was fairly tolerable.

I got to Doc’s office, and the moment I saw him I knew that something was awry. I barely sat down when he informed me that my insurance company was requesting documentation for all of my May sessions for payment consideration. Apparently, the last time this happened with a different client the company did not pay for the sessions. He looked very concerned.

Then I was gone. Just gone. The world started to narrow on me. Doc started to sound like he was far, far away. The fear of having to find the money to pay him for those sessions, and the fear of no longer having the insurance company pay for the bulk of the sessions terrified me. It was like the floor dropped out from under me.

I could hear Doc calling my name, but it was like he was calling me softly from the next room, instead of right in front of me. I knew he was trying to reach me, but I could not respond. I wanted to respond, but was unable to do so. Then this voice I did not quite recognize came out of me, and started crying, crying and talking about not wanting to be here.

The voice was somewhere between belonging to Belle or Ronnie, I’m not sure which. Doc asked me, ” Who is this?” I did not know, and Belle/Ronnie said so. This voice somewhere around 8 – 9 years old was freaked out about being alone, as she often was as a child. She talked about being alone in the dark. She did not like the dark. Even writing this is making me feel anxious.

Doc then reassured us that we would work something out regardless of the insurance company, that he wasn’t going anywhere. He then asked if he could speak with me, and the voice said sure, and I was back. I was there the whole time, just aside during the interaction.

Doc asked me who came out. I told him I did not know. I could not tell if it was Belle or Ronnie, specifically because the darkness reminded me of Belle, but the age reminded me of Ronnie. I got the impression he either did not believe me, or was confused by what I said. Hell, I’m often confused by the whole thing myself. Even tonight I’m still not sure who was out this morning during the session. The rest of the day I had that feeling that one has when they had themselves a good cry, tired and embarrassed.

The day improved after that.