Tag Archives: Dissociative identity disorder

Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all

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I want to know more about what’s hidden in the recesses of my mind. But, I am beginning to question the wisdom of such an endeavor.

It may seem trivial, but before today I would have sworn that I’ve watched every single episode of Modern Family. Well, I’ve been watching a marathon on the USA network for the past couple of evenings, and roughly 50% of the episodes thus far are alien to me. I know that I physically watch this show every week, but, apparently, I do not always watch the show. I guess other peeps inside enjoy Modern Family. This discovery gives more credence to my theory and belief that I lose time at home.

Last night was a horrid marathon of upsetting nightmares, one of which consisted of a bizarre car accident. Don’t know if there is any meaning there.

I actually felt myself getting physically panicked all day today, and even this evening.

God, I know this post is dreadfully boring. I’m even boring myself, but I feel compelled to get it all out in the hopes that all of this writing will eventually lead to some understanding of myself.

Letty keeps talking to me about Dad. At least she’s not asking where he has gone, “I had a Dad, but he not coming back. He sick, very sick. He not coming back. I wish I could call him, but Beatriz says we can’t cause he’s sick.”

After the last session with Doc where Letty talked about food and being hungry, I had another revelation. Over the years, people have mentioned funny things to me that have happened when I’m eating something I really like. Just a couple of weeks ago, my colleague and I went to our favorite diner for dinner. They had meatloaf panini as a special on the menu, and I ordered it. All I remember is getting my food, and telling the owner’s fiance who came over to our table that it was fabulous. As we were leaving the diner, my colleague told me that when I picked up my panini I brought my sandwich up to my face with eager crossed eyes, and I was making a gleeful humming sound. Thank god he was laughing about it, but I had no recollection of such a thing happening. I now realize that Letty was likely enjoying the sandwich with me.

In that last session this week with Doc I keep replaying in my mind something Letty said, “It don’t matter if the food didn’t taste good. I could make it taste good in my brain. It don’t matter.”

Guess it makes her happy when food is truly good.

I am fighting the urge to quit, to quit trying to remember. I am fighting the urge to just give up altogether. I am fighting ,and I’m having a hard time remembering why.

Scary day

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I know from experience that meeting with Doc right after he has wrangled with my insurance company is usually Bad Idea 101. Strangely, I always forget until the next time he has to fight with them.

And so it was Bad Idea 101 …

To summarize, Disinterested Insurance Company denied Doc’s request for extended length sessions. I think they also gave him a hard time about my prognosis, but he did not elaborate extensively on that, for which I am very glad because as mad as it made him I’m sure it would have bothered me immensely.

After a few minutes of ranting and venting on Doc’s part we start the session, and from the start, it’s a difficult one with frequent interruptions from him where I have difficulty completing a thought. I also felt like he wasn’t getting what I was trying to say. In the midst of a sentence where I was trying to explain myself he cut me off and said we had to stop the session as we were out of time. Usually, in the past, he gives me a warning that the session is about to end so that I can get to a stopping point. There are no clocks in his office that are visible to me so I do need his warning. And then the abrupt manner in which he stopped me in the midst of my sentence upset me.

I left the session just steamed, and I started to think about not coming back to see him. I even convinced myself that I didn’t need anyone to treat me at all, least of all him.

I stewed and marinaded in this feeling for two days until my next session.

The morning of my next session I woke up with that cloudy fuzzy feeling that I had not had in quite a while upon waking. I felt pinned to the bed, and the world felt dark and out of reach. I managed to find my phone on the dresser, and called him to cancel.

“Doc … I’m not coming. Charge me what you want, but I’m not coming.”

“Does this have anything to do with our last session?”

“Uh … uh … uh … yeah … but I am NOT coming.”

“Please come. It does not matter how late you are, please come so that we can work this out.”

“I’ll be at least 20 minutes late …”

“It’s okay, please come.”

And so I drove there. Somehow, I was able to get myself there.

I don’t recall the beginning of the session. At one point, early on in the session, he apologized to me for being so curt when we last met. He admitted that the interaction with the insurance company had him riled up, and leaked into the session. I do remember that at the start of the session it was Letty who was doing most of the talking.

I became aware of what was going on at the point that Letty said to Doc, “We wanted to quit you Doc!”

“I’m glad you came back …” His voice cracked at this point, and I realized he was teary. This turn of events was effective in getting me more present in the room. He then said, “I am very sorry for what happened last session …”

I could feel Letty jump into action. “Doc! Doc! You’re good inside! You’re good inside! That’s why we came back Doc! It’s okay, Doc. Don’t be sad.” The sound of that little voice just moved me, the way she was trying to make him feel better.

And then I faded out again at that point, but I could tell from the tone in his voice that he was grateful and apologetic.

The next thing I became aware of was Letty crying. It felt like I was tuning in late to a tv show. From what I could gather, Letty was upset because the whole mess with Doc was a reminder of being rejected by my mother when my father disappeared.

“I can’t find my Dad, Doc! I can’t find him! Help me find him!” She cried and cried and cried.

“Letty, you are stuck in a flashback. It’s the past. It is not happening right now. You have me and Beatriz to help you.”

“I just want my Dad! My Mom don’t care about me .. She don’t care, Doc … she don’t care … nobody cares … She make us three girls share a little pizza. We gotta share it, but we still hungry .. always hungry … hungry … every day. I see the cafeteria ladies always have extra food, but they don’t give me any. I ask every day … every day … they always say no … always. They throw the food away instead of giving it to me. I always hope that maybe today God will tell them to let me have some food … but it never happens … never … I always hungry …”

And with that, I finally realize why getting hungry sends me into a tailspin, even today.

Behind the curtains

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New black curtains shading for the sun.

The big heavy curtains covering the window that is my life are starting to open up. I want to fling open those heavy things. Hell, I want to rip them off their curtain rods.

Alas, I am not there yet. A sliver of light coming in through the crack between the curtains is where I am at the moment. But, trust me, those curtains are going to open. I am doing whatever it takes to open them, come what may. Without opening those curtains I will be trapped in my compartmentalized life for the rest of my living days.

Every day I am doing something, whether it’s big or small, towards the effort of opening those curtains further. Some days may be tiny steps, and other days may be leaps, but it all counts towards the goal.

I’ve no idea where any of this is going to go for my life. I have a number of dreams that have been deferred in trying to get better: writer, partner, dog owner, attorney … Hell, even “being a good friend” has been a dream deferred for a while as I now recognize that there have been significant periods of time when I was too compromised with dissociation to truly be a good friend.

The world outside of those curtains is a mysterious and scary dark sea, but I am jumping in, nonetheless. At least when the day comes when I’m drawing my last breath I will know that I tried my best. I may not succeed at all my dreams, but I sure as hell will have tried my best.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)