So much can happen in such a short time when your personality is not just fragmented but completely obliterated, compiling a blog post that says what needs to be said, what I want to say yet at the same time doesn’t reveal too much is extremely difficult.
The need to tell a part of the story is still there so the blog is still here.
The drive to write, to communicate, to educate, agitate and entertain is still there and so the blog is still here.
I am still here so the blog is still here.
I tried very hard not to be here, I pigeonholed myself and decided early on I was merely a ‘fragment’ or ‘function’ and kept my head down. It took me a while to figure out that perhaps fragments or functions lacked the ability to pigeonhole themselves but I continued to do it anyway. I’ve hidden, not spoken but continued to listen, others with whom I share a life mind and body were more than capable of doing what I did. I resisted sentience, resisted existence as my increasing awareness that the metaphorical scars I bear are similar to the scars of others with whom I share a life, mind and body was too painful. It was easier for me to believe I was created to do one thing and wasn’t created as the result of trauma. No part of a system of dissociated identities chooses to exist, whilst I can’t deny in terms of having all bases covered we’ve done a good job- from a pathological point of view this particular system of dissociated identities is bad news.
Those of us with DID are never short of internal conflict and arguments with ourselves are frequent, the relatively short length of time it takes to get washed and dressed in the morning can see several arguments over what to eat, drink and wear. There have been many conflicts since the last blog post was published but one particular one is causing a large amount of confusion.
I don’t suppose we’re unique in that there is a tendency to look forward, to seek answers about what the future may hold. I suspect this is largely as our pasts are unknown and the present is often unbearable. I don’t know how often the <?> therapist has been asked “how long will this take?” but I do know she’s never quantified it and I also know where the answer was once “years” then “a long time” and is now “a very long time”. Events of the past few weeks have painted a grim picture of what the future may hold, there are a number of reasons for this- most of them not for sharing but one reason is the impact of our own ‘investment in separateness’ according to this paper it’s a very negative thing. As terminology I’m uncomfortable with it, it’s a judgement laden description of something that’s complex and convoluted.
We never chose to become separate, to exist- our separation happened as we fought to survive, there’s a conflict there over whether to marvel at the abilities of the human mind or wonder if it might have been better not to survive. That’s not a thinly-veiled statement of intent or suicidality, just a fact. I don’t imagine there are any people with DID who don’t have at least one part hell-bent on ending their own lives- it’s almost a rule of multiplicity. Life dictates that we continue to survive and therefore our continued ‘investment in separateness’ is unavoidable.
Events of the past few weeks proved extremely destabilising and there was complete breakdown in communication. The past few weeks have been busy, confusing and often harrowing but as is the way with DID most of what goes on, goes on internally, underneath a benign, functioning exterior. You would never guess we’d fallen off the relentless treadmill of existence and I don’t think I will ever understand what drives the willingness to get back on the bloody thing- but get back on it we have.
Thanks to our investment in separateness we possess the skills necessary to keep going, to maintain that benign, functioning exterior. It’s the season for cabinet reshuffles but what was required was a complete system reboot. Those separate individuals we have spent 37 years unwittingly investing in have proved to be essential in making the necessary changes to ensure that the benign, functioning exterior remains in place.
As is often the way the grimness of existence has had a few brighter moments, I’m not sure the following exchange would win any prizes for internal communication or indeed compassion but it did cause a number of laughs, laughs that have been largely absent for some time.
“look, I know you’re suicidal but you’re a multiple and you know the minute you’d swallowed the pills, rat poison or whatever- some smart arse would phone an ambulance and our miserable little lives would be saved again. If it was just you and me I’d get you a glass of water to wash them down. It’s crap and I know you’re miserable but I assume you know how to work a fucking hoover?”
As soon as I’ve finished writing this I guess we’ll find out. I’m going back to my hooverless pigeonhole for a while, I’m many things but I don’t hoover.
