The Life You Save May Be Your Own

DID, knitting, sci-fi, and strong opinions

Sick. Again. July 7, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — weordmyndum @ 1:57 am
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Uck. Sick again. I’ve spent a lot of the afternoon in the bathroom with a novel, which is what I did at Sheppard Pratt. But hey, at least here I have my bathroom. There we had two bathrooms and twenty people. You do the math. It’s even more fun when you have to go SRSLY RITE NAO and the only bathroom is clear on the opposite end of the unit. I have no TMI filter, but I’ll try not to be too graphic. I’m sure you guys have good imaginations.

To add insult to injury, my computer appears to have fried its poor little brains. My google-fu informs me it’s a common problem with this model and probably requires a new motherboard. Like I can afford that.

I’ve got to find a gastroenterologist here. I guess I need to slow down with adding new foods back. At SP, I was basically eating the same four meals: peanut butter and jelly on white bread, Amy’s red beans and rice burrito, pasta with marinara, and Amy’s teriyaki bowl. I could eat cooked vegetables without seeds, and bananas were the only fruit I could eat. (The dietician told me I could have apples without the peel, and she got really confused when I asked her how I was supposed to peel them with plastic spoons or forks. She was not a brain surgeon.) I got so excited about real food that I added in a bunch of things. Now I don’t know which one I’m reacting to. I guess I need to back off. 😦

At least I’m not in pain anymore. I have a high pain tolerance (yay dissociation), and that is the worst pain I’ve ever felt. When I first got to the ER, I refused pain meds. Five minutes later, I was saying, “Give me ALL THE PAIN MEDS.” They gave me dilaudid, I think, but it did almost nothing. At several points while I was in the hospital, it got so bad I was crying. I don’t think that’s EVER happened. I’m very glad that’s better. But I do need to find a GI doc here so I can avoid that happening again.

I just hate feeling so out of control of my body. Right after the diagnosis, I was really struggling with it, having lots of flashbacks and body memories. There was excruciating pain that I wasn’t causing and couldn’t escape. It felt like I was once again suffering the consequences of other people’s crimes–UC is strongly linked with stress. I knew it wasn’t the same as the abuse, but it FELT the same. My therapist had me write out some past v. present stuff, but it didn’t change the feelings, either. Some of it comes from parts, but I haven’t been able to get much communication going about it.

It just feels like another legacy of abuse. My parents aren’t the ones suffering. If what happened wasn’t my fault, then why am I the one who has to deal with it for the rest of her life? It’s not fair.

 

Lonely July 4, 2013

I’m frustrated with myself.

I’ve been home all of three days, but I’m already feeling alone and disconnected. I guess I should’ve seen that coming. I let myself get spoiled: I spent four months in a place where I always had somebody around to talk to who understood, and I let myself get dependent on that. Now I’m back to the real world, where most people don’t understand trauma and dissociation, and I have no friends or anything. And I’m sad.

I’ve also done zero internal communication since I’ve been home. I know I should, and I can’t even explain why I’m avoiding it. I guess I just don’t trust that my team would know how to help me if things got difficult. Their hearts are in the right place, but they don’t have experience.

I’m afraid. I don’t like admitting that.

It’s not like it was easy at Sheppard Pratt. God knows it wasn’t, and I spent plenty of time curled up in a ball crying, and there were a number of times I wanted to punch someone. Still, I was surrounded by people who understood trauma and DID–the other patients, too, not just the staff.

While I was there, my grandfather asked my social worker to keep me there longer and offered to pay for it. My reaction at the time was, “What the flying fuck?” but without the swear words, since we weren’t supposed to use them. But there is at least one part who wishes I had stayed forever. There were a lot of infuriating aspects to being there, but at least I was around people who understood what I was dealing with. There’s a kind of safety in that.

I wish I had real-life friends in my area with DID. I don’t want to feel this alone with it.

 

Also February 15, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — weordmyndum @ 2:19 am
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In therapy today, A explained alters as “basically, walled-off archetypes.”

It’s a relief to finally have a therapist who’s worked with DID before, but that comment was just…asdfghjkl.

I don’t wanna be an archetype. They’re all mythological and shit, or else she means we’re each just a single feeling. Like the Cardboard President we used for campaign events: it looks like a real person, but only from a distance.

Can’t we be people? I think I’m a person.

If we hadn’t been in the dark and twisty place, I probably would’ve argued the point with her. If she calls us archetypes again, I probably will.

–Alison

 

Guarded February 13, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — weordmyndum @ 5:07 am
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Had therapy again today. I’m not quite sure how I feel about it.

(I need to give this therapist a name for this blog. I guess I could just go with A, since that’s her first initial.)

I was anxious that A would want me to do the sand tray again, and I was stressed out all morning about it. But she didn’t bring up the sand tray.

Nope. Instead, she wanted to talk about my parts/alters/others. (I feel like I should have a preferred term, but I don’t.)

That REALLY set me on edge. It didn’t feel quite safe–I feel like I don’t know her well enough yet to trust her with a lot of information about me/us. Names, for instance. Definitely not giving her those any time in the near future. I don’t know why it felt so unsafe. I did outline a few parts for her, which was a big accomplishment. I was so tense the whole time. When I’m really stressed or upset, I curl my toes up really tight. I’ve never heard of anyone else who does that, but when I have my toes all scrunched up, it’s a good sign I need to pay attention to my stress level. My toes were all curled up in my boots, but I pushed through it and chose to trust her, even if only in small increments. I guess it’s something.

It just seems weird to me that I’d be so hesitant to discuss the DID. I have spent over a year trying to find someone who knew enough to work with me on it. Now that I’ve found someone with some experience, I choke on my words. I’m too guarded to talk about it without feeling threatened. I guess it makes sense in its way–DID is a defense mechanism–but it frustrates me that it feels so dangerous.

*le sigh*

I think my cold is getting a bit better, though. That’s something, at least.

 

The I Word, lulz edition January 30, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — weordmyndum @ 7:39 am
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Today’s edition of lulzy WTF-y news:
Fake Therapist thinks we’re going to integrate at Sheppard Pratt. You know, in a program that averages a 21-day length of stay. After having had NO prior treatment for DID, beyond the diagnosis.

My reactions:

1. Lol wat
2. Do you know anything about DID?
3. Like, beyond the two paragraphs of dribble in an abnormal psych textbook?
4. Lol wat
5. This is not how DID treatment works.
6. Srsly, NOT IN LIKE THREE WEEKS for fuckin sure.
7. Lol wat
8. How much are you gonna freak out when I say fuck integration?
9. Just because multiplicity isn’t YOUR natural state of being, that doesn’t mean it’s an inherently bad or wrong way of being.
10. Like srsly, I get to stay multiple if I want. I just wanna not be dysfunctional about it.
11. Lol your face while I’m explaining this.
12. Lol wat

 

 
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