Tag Archives: personal

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)

The compartmentalized life

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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.