The Life You Save May Be Your Own

DID, knitting, sci-fi, and strong opinions

Blank Spots (Alison) February 9, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — weordmyndum @ 3:12 am

My nurse asked me if I could put together a med history for her and the psychiatrist.  Our psych history spans dozens of psychiatrists and hospitals across three states.  Been on and off meds for 20 years, more on than off.  So it makes sense to do it, so they’re not constantly searching through tons of records, since we’ve been on pretty much every crazy pill out there.

I realized there’s a big blank spot about a year long.  Our mother and grandparents had gotten tired of dealing with us, so they shipped us off to live with our abusive father in Iowa.  We lived with him for a while, and then he had us involuntarily committed to a state psychiatric hospital.  Sara has a few scattered memories of that time (those of us who are closest to her can see most of her memories, meaning me, Kate, Kenna, and maybe Monica and Corey), but mostly it’s a big blank spot.

Which means there’s somebody we don’t know about.  Well, I suspect there are a lot of somebodies we don’t know about.  It’s like living in a big apartment building.  You know you have neighbors, sometimes you see them or hear them, but you don’t really know them that much.  But I’m guessing this big blank year means there’s somebody or maybe several people who were dealing with what went on in Iowa.

I dunno exactly why, but I feel guilty about it.  Like I shoulda been the one dealing with that stuff.  Then again I always feel guilty because I shoulda been the one to take care of everything.

I dunno.  It just feels weird knowing there are other people here that we don’t know about.  I’m trying to figure out how some people know so much about their systems (god, that sounds like a computer or something, I hate that word).  Like some people I’ve read about online even know exactly what month new people came into existing.  I just don’t get it, how they figure all that out.  If we’re going with the living in an apartment building thing, you don’t exactly go bang on your neighbors’ doors and demand they tell you all about themselves and all their memories or whatever.

It’s all just so confusing, and it’s not like I’ve got anyone IRL to help me figure it out.  I mean, maybe the new therapist can, but she’s gone for at least a month because she had some big medical emergency.  So I’m basically trying to figure all this stuff out myself, and I’m totally lost.


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