Somehow, I’ve become an annoying person

I am not sure how this happened, but somewhere along the way, I’ve become annoying. I’ve not yet assessed whether I’ve been this way the entirety of my life thus far, or if I became this way as a result of living such a solitary life for the last 5 years.

I always prided myself on my ability to read people, as well as my ability to assess when people have met their capacity with listening to me, or having me over as company. But, the news is in, people! I no longer have any idea when I cross the line into annoying, or when I’ve overstayed. How can I no longer know this, no longer possess the ability to know how much is too much?

It’s like the start of losing one’s faculties, or at least it seems that way. It feels that way because these are basics: knowing when to stop talking, when to leave, when to give someone silence.

Is this what happens to us when we spend a vast amount of time alone? Is this built into the price of mental illness?

The loneliness, and hunger for human connection has turned me into a person to avoid. The reality of the previous sentence is heavy on my heart and mind.

The thing I want more than anything in the world is beginning to look eternally out of my reach. All I’m looking for is sustained human connection. That is it, emphasis on the word sustained.

I used to know these things. I used to know when to end a conversation, when to leave, when to give a person silence.

How do I get these things back?

The compartmentalized life

With dissociation, life is so often only partially lived, 1/10, 1/3, 1/2, 3/4, depending on how we are coping with our condition. I might even be at the 2/3 point right now. It’s eye opening to realize that some of my choices have not been fully my own. I realize that all of these parts are part of me, but I consider true choices as ones that I make as Beatriz and no one else.

DID has kept me from a full life. Dissociation does that. It compartmentalizes your life in such an organized fashion that you don’t experience all of it. You are shut out, but you don’t even know it.

Yesterday as I was driving I had another revelation. Doc has said that they will come if I am open to them. It sounds like that is indeed coming true because yesterday was the first day I’ve been truly and fully open to memories and answers.

I was driving to get gas, and I felt Letty start to cry. It’s such a strange sensation to know that I, Beatriz, am okay and calm, yet another part of me, Letty, is upset.

“Letty, honey, what is it?”

“I am sorry. I am so sorry. It’s my fault … It’s my fault that we ran out from the place in New York with Michael.”

And in that instant I knew what she was talking about. I knew she meant the night almost three years ago I ran out of a club on the Lower East Side with Michael, the night I was so dissociative that I didn’t know what was going on, just that I was in a fog and in a state of fear that made no sense.

As I grasp this realization I also have a flash of Sabrina and Belle before me. I learn that Sabrina was the one who desperately wanted a drink. Belle wanted to die during that entire situation. No wonder I was such a mess at the time as I was a musical chair of selves revolving in and out at that club. It is no wonder I felt like passing out at times that night.

I’m taking all of this in when I realize that Letty is still crying, and still trying to talk to me.

“I am sorry, sorry, sorry … I am the one who ran out from there. I scared Michael …”

“Honey, we all scared Michael, not just you. It was a scary thing that happened for everyone. It’s no one’s fault. I didn’t know about you guys so that I could help you. If I had known I would have helped everyone. I am the one who is sorry, sweetie. We didn’t know what we didn’t know. We have to forgive ourselves sweetheart because no one meant any harm that night, not you, not Belle, not Sabrina, not me, and not Michael. Everyone was just doing their own job. Your job is to keep a look out, and make sure everyone is safe. You were trying to do that. Sabrina’s job is to escape from what is happening using things like drinking. Belle’s job is to hold all of our bad yucky feelings, and she was doing that very thing. All of you did your job. How can you be in trouble for that? Now that I know about you guys we are working together so that things like that don’t happen again.”

“Will Michael be mad when finds out?”

“I really don’t think so, honey. Remember how Michael told you the other night that real friends understand? I think this is one of those situations where a real friend will understand what happened. He’s a real friend. There may have been times when he was scared, but, even in those times, he was always our friend.”

Over and over again in my mind I have regretted that night, and blamed myself for the way things played out afterwards. With this revelation I learned that our night on the Lower East Side could only end the way it did. Not knowing about the system meant that everyone continued to operate and do their own thing. There is no other way that night could have ended given the knowledge I did not possess.

I may not have ever learned about my DID if I did not go through all that pain and confusion.

It had to happen they way it happened.

To my lovely co-workers … I’m sorry

Hi all,

Yesterday was supposed to fun. An after work get together at the pub across the street from us was a good idea.

We ordered pizzas and I had my trusty club soda with cranberry and extra lime.

But then Bobby started talking to Sydney over me, and there was no place for me to move, no place to go. Bobby and Sydney had to speak loudly in order to be heard. I felt trapped, and my brain got all fuzzy and fiery with the loud volume of voices stretching to be heard.

Then the martinis came, the lovely martinis with extra olives in them for my colleagues, Rita and Wanda. At that moment those martinis became the most beautiful things in the world to me. I could sense the ease in which I could grab both, and finish them off in a swish.

Bobby was nudged up against me talking to Sydney, who was on the other side of me. Sydney’s voice was in my ear. I could not move, and there were two beautiful martinis in front of me.

There were only two choices in my brain in that moment, and neither was discreet.

I shot up from the bench, and said, “I gotta go! Sorry guys!” That got Bobby’s attention, and he moved so that I could move, and when I was able to move I scrambled for that door like my life depended on it.

Only one of you knows that this weekend is my five year sobriety anniversary. I wish I could explain to all of you why I behaved so strangely, but I know that it would not be wise to share that bit of information with all of you.

I ran out of the pub, and cried because I wanted to be in there with the rest of you. I wanted to be like the rest of you, but I’m not. I’m a person in long term sobriety that is still figuring out how to navigate the world as a sober person.

I needed an AA meeting at the moment, and I was within easy driving distance of one.

And that’s a whole other story …

You, my fellow colleagues, are not the only ones who don’t get me.

In my infinite wisdom I decided to be straight forward with the group. I shared what had just happened, and the fact that I don’t get AA. I so badly want to get it, but it’s like my brain rebels against it. I truly wish I could love AA. It’s the negativity towards ourselves in the group that turns me off instantly. I’ve been trying to learn how NOT to beat myself up on a regular basis, and coming into these meetings seems to be a return to that way of life for me.

But here’s the frosting that frosted my ass last night. I can try to tolerate the way people beat themselves up in there. But I will never be okay with the way we attack each other. We had someone in our meeting talk about how they previously had decades of time sober, but picked up a drink a few months ago. Since then she has not been able to put together any amount of time sober. This person with so much pain and struggle was so brave in admitting this to all of us. My heart just went out to her because I do not think I would be able to admit what she admitted to all of us.

Then some judgmental gal with a fancy dress spoke up, and wondered aloud what this person learned in the rooms with 20+ years of sobriety, the implication that she must not have learned anything since she picked up a drink. Well, Ms. Fancy Dress, I should hope that you don’t meet someone like you if you ever pick up a drink and come back to the rooms to admit it. I should hope that, but I don’t.

Fellow colleagues, I am not sure if I will attend our next outing to the pub. I assure you that it’s not a reflection of how I feel about you guys. I wish I could tell all of you this so that you would know that it’s really about me, and not you. Sure, Bobby and Sydney were loud, and I felt trapped, but it’s my brain that gets me keyed up in these instances. I recognize that. Please know that I love you guys, and wish I could hang out with you more often.

Beatriz

P.S. I will be ever so grateful if you don’t talk about my Friday weirdness on Monday.