My soul is at rest…at least for now

All’s well that ends well.  I heard back from my magic therapist and was able to get an appointment in a town far, far away from where I live and where he used to practice.  I can’t begin to explain the mix of emotions that came with this moment.  Naturally, I was worried that I created a fantasy of a perfect therapist who abandoned this poor little soul raw and unresolved.  I went into the room knowing that it was possible that this might be a grand disappointment but still clenching to my hope in a jar that maybe what I believed to be true was indeed true.

The good news is that everything ended up ok.  I was apprehensive for at least half of our session, and parts struggled with the range of words and emotions- some wanting to give him a piece of their mind and some just wanting to let them know he was missed.

Anyone else like me knows this whole therapy thing is a lot about chemistry.  I think magic therapist’s (I think I’ll stick with that name) disinterest in my public life and interest in what’s going on inside is what works for me.  I spend so much time pulling myself together for the outside world that even my therapists buy into my bullcrap…except this one.  I hate him for it, making me dwell in such an uncomfortable space, but I appreciate the hell out of it at the same time.  He’s also into the whole mind, body, spirit connection which is a little unconventional but totally something that I find helpful in therapy.  If only he did not live in a galaxy far, far away…

My soul is at rest just knowing that I found my long lost magic therapist and can contact him if the need ever arises.  None of my stories end this way; rather, they all end in disappointment, so it’s a pleasant unfamiliar feeling to actually reconnect.  Not just that, but to almost feel like we picked up where we left off.

He’d probably laugh (and so would my other therapists) to know that my stand-by therapy is watching HBO’s series “In Treatment.”  It’s really good, and while I don’t directly relate to any particular character (each episode is a session with a patient), I identify with many of the feelings and issues they face, and I find comfort in Dr. Paul Westcott’s compassion.  To be honest, it’s helped me deal with some of my abandonment issues and relationship issues.  I like that the show is written to give viewer’s the perspective of from both the patient and therapist point of view.  Sure, there’s probably an element of Hollywood, but it’s the most realistic portrayal of a show of this kind that I’ve ever seen.

Oh, one more thing.  Apparently, I never mentioned that I have this blog to my husband and kind of “slipped up” by mentioning that I gave magic therapist the link to it.  He had no clue what I was talking about and I wanted to backpedal but there was no taking the words back.  So, I guess he knows that I have some kind of blog that I write things about my life with DID but I refuse to share a specific address.  This is my space and by invitation only with the exception of those who land here simply because it’s an online blog.

Ok, that really wasn’t the last thing; here’s the last thing.  I finally did the whole introduction of my husband to magic therapist.  It was definitely not something I had done before he moved to the galaxy far, far away and I just didn’t want to at the time.  This was my problem to deal with and I didn’t want my husband tangled in this whole mental mess.  After magic therapist left 2 years ago, I did introduce my husband to one therapist who spent a little time with us together.  That was a first and quite an eye opener as I thought I had this whole DID wrapped up in full anonymity.  Apparently, my husband recognizes more than I thought.  It makes me uneasy so there’s definitely work in that department.  I knew that reacquating with magic therapist would mean that a long overdue introduction was in order.  And just like that, my worlds collided intersected.

My rest was filled with auto-replay of my 2 hour magic therapist reunion.  Everyone is happy now.

I think I found my old therapist

When I first moved to where I live now, I had one of the best therapists of my life at one of the most difficult times of my life.  Unfortunately, he was moving out of state to get married, something he shared from the start but not the exact timeframe.  I was in that space where I needed something to work and didn’t focus on the thought of it ending.  We probably worked together for about 6 months.  After about 4 months, I worked up the nerve to ask him about his plans to leave.  When he responded with an actual date, my heart hit the floor.  I cried the entire session, something I’ve never done before and never done since.  While in my head, I could rationalize what was going on, I fought feelings of abandonment.  Besides, I completely understood being in love and wanting to move to be with the person you want to share the rest of your life with since I have done the same in my lifetime.

But…

I chuckle for a moment because my husband says anytime you say a sentence followed by “but” it really means you just wanted to say everything after the word “but.”

But…

I just was left completely overwhelmed with both my current situation, just really coming to terms with the thought I had DID, and feeling abandoned.  Just the word abandon just gives me this feeling of complete emptiness, the kind you can’t fill.  I’m sure I can trace this back to feelings from childhood.  No matter the source, it was one of the hardest things I had to adjust to in my life.

He did the best he could and made decisions the best he knew how at the time.  He hand picked a therapist for me to transition to and we worked extra sessions in the final few weeks to help me progress in my therapy.  In the end, he had to leave.  Not just leave, but leave and go all the way across the country.  It was then I learned about therapist protocol and them not being able to keep in touch.  Again, in my mind, intellectually, I understood, but in my heart it just was another dagger.  I have too many moments of feeling abandoned and vulnerable to count and here was yet another moment.

I tried with the new therapist he recommended, but it just didn’t work.  It was pretty much doomed from the start.  They were friends, and it would be difficult to hear that he was in town or stopped the office or asked about how I was doing.  I never worked up the nerve to tell her that, though.  Also, I was driving to the same place, different building and I felt I was in the wrong place every time.  She, the new therapist, never had a chance, but I really tried and I believe she did, too.  I saw her for probably another year with a few weeks off where I explored another few therapists with the last one making me so uncomfortable I raced out in tears.

Then, I found a really good therapist who restored my hope in the process.  I stayed with her for almost a year, but I began to pull away when things got difficult at my job.  She is a complete sweatheart, very nurturing, and I had researched her through the Many Voices publication.  For black and white thinkers like myself, it just took one comment that made me feel that we probably were not a good match.  Throw in a practice that has a Christian affiliation when my own spirituality is suspect and I felt I’d never be completely comfortable.

Would I return to her one day?  Probably.  I just need to express better where I’m coming from as a person, and depending on her response, maybe it could work, but the Jesus part of being in her office just brought up this inner rage that I fear.

So, 3 years later and on my third job and who knows how many therapists, I find myself traveling to the area where my best therapist resides.  Every time I have to head in that direction, I google the name just to see if I see anything.  In some ways it seems crazy to me, but I somehow I just want to know he’s there in some way.  As if by finding him would relieve me of being abandoned.  After all, I made the most progress with him and basically have been sliding backwards since.  I’ve lost that trust with therapists in the same way I do people.  In the back of my mind, I often wonder when they’re going to leave me to fend for myself.

When he left, he said that he could not contact me but I could write via the therapist he recommended but he would not be able to write back.  I was tempted to write early on, but I told myself I should wait 6 months to let enough time to pass where it wasn’t so painful.  Well, I never wrote him and it’s been probably 2 years now.  However, from time to time, I google his name just to see if he pops up.  Today, he did.  I wasn’t sure at first, but then I read enough from several links to know it was him.  I’m so delighted just to know he exists, and decided to take the ballsy move of making a phone call to his practice.  Maybe this is a huge mistake, especially if he does not return my call, but today I hold onto hope.

A good therapist is hard to find, and I had one that I wasn’t throwing away but “threw” me away.  I know it has to be difficult even on a therapist making transitions like this as I’d like to believe that they actually care about their patients.  I understand the need for boundaries and why from a professional standpoint they do not contact you again.

However, what are the rules for me contacting them?  I mean what if I had moved into the area where the therapist worked and wanted to resume therapy?  I feel that is fair and professional.  I would give my left eye to be able to at least have a session again just to see if I could be in therapy with this person.  I have been reasonable in not reaching out for 2 years, so I’m not in that desparate space that I was right after he left.  Although, I just keep comparing everyone I meet to him.  There were parts inside that have not spoken since.  I have one little guy in particular who is heartbroken to have lost his buddy and I don’t know what to do with that.

I just pray that I hear back, even if it’s to say I can’t do anything for you.  The best case scenario is that he will grant me a session while I’m in the area just so everybody can see he’s ok and he can see that I’m ok.  It would just mean the world to me.

Life just isn’t the same…

4 days in the fog

I promised my therapist I’d post this one and wanted to for a while then the interest waned.  I’m going to be brief because I’m not in that mood really to live in this particular moment, but I was triggered a few weeks ago thanks to a man who came to my side door and knocked on it one morning.  Our side door is not something that’s easy to see to a passerby and it quickly became apparent to me that his intentions probably weren’t good.

What got me caught up and I guess living in a 4 day “fog” was the realization of what could have happened and being upset at myself for naively answering the side door.  That’s a long time for me to dissociate, but I can see why looking back now.  I didn’t even realize it at the time really.  It wasn’t until I was able to cry and got a good night’s sleep that I began to feel myself again.

Sleep during those days was minimal and about a week afterward as well.  I did file a police report the same day, but it was nearly 8 hours earlier, processing it all the while in my head during that time and online chatting with friends.

I’m not in therapy and have had lots of reservations about returning although I’m sure I will when the timing is right.  I just feel more comfortable turning inward and retreating to being alone as much as possible.

During those days, I thought about how my work would have been disastrous if I were in an office setting.  I’ve been there before.  People start to recognize that I’m not on top of my game.  Maybe I’ll miss a deadline or two, upsetting some coworkers.  It just spirals from there and all of a sudden, a composed intelligent young woman begins to look like a basket case.  It’s embarassing, and enough rounds of this and I usually find that I need to quit my job to save face.  Time to disappear.

Frustrating, but it’s the life I lead.

Am I not human??

I resort to writing in the blog when there’s no other space.  I spend most of my time hoping, wishing, praying that I don’t really have DID.  that the therapists have been wrong.  Then something happens that makes it front and center.

I’ve been doing pretty good lately.  I’m not in therapy.  I’ve made a job transition where I can manage my own schedule- which allows me to compensate for days that I’m not at my best.

So I can’t find my wallet.  I lost it sometime on Friday night.  I was completely sober, but extremely emotional.  When I look back to that evening, I was in trigger central.

1. I was exhausted after making a day trip out of town by plane.
2. I promised and had been looking forward to attending an event on Friday night.  It wasn’t the event; it was the venue.  I knew it was a place that one of my favorite therapists used to hang out and I’ve purposely never been in there for that reason.
3. I had 2 friends flake on me with plans we made that night, leaving me alone at this venue waiting to see a concert that my friend was giving and was looking forward to my attendance.
4. I arrived only to learn that he was not performing until at least 2 hours from the time I arrived.
5. My husband had no interest in attending either so as the plans fell, I was just sitting there.
6. It broke my heart to leave, but I had to.  I didn’t want to be there alone (just because, no relation to the venue-therapist thing).  I was so disappointed that something that was important to me was again not deemed important to my so called friends.

So, I walked home completely empty inside.  I know I had my wallet to get into the nightclub because I needed my id.  I know I had taken my wallet out from the rest of my things so that I would not have to keep reaching into my bag to get it.  I’m fairly certain, I made it home with my wallet.

All I know is that I got home was extremely emotional but felt like I couldn’t express it because my hubby could care less.  So I put my head back on the couch then for a moment then went upstairs to bed.  I was so exhausted that I didn’t need any light or tv on to help me fall asleep.

That’s all I know.  I have cleaned the house and looked in every nook and cranny for my wallet and just can’t find it.  I called the place but it didn’t turn up.

It could have been taken, but again I was sober, as alert as a sleep deprived version of me could be.  I haven’t really had to deal with looking for it until today.  That’s where all the cards fell and I began to just lose it emotionally.  I haven’t slept well in a  long time.  Just little naps here and there.  I get on the internet a lot.  I know a male I interact with professionally kind of weirds me out, and I’ve since told him because he’s naturally expressive.  I don’t like a man wishing me a restful sleep unless he’s my husband or therapist.  Maybe that played into it, too.  I’ve been sent a link about that assault in Massachusetts that has people angry and somehow I keep wanting to respond to people questioning it, like pushing it away rather than joining the angry bandwagon.  I need to come up with something to say so people don’t think I’m weird.

To top it off, I mention to my husband that I might have lost time on more than one occassion today and he just says nothing.  The last time, I asked him to at least acknowledge my statement because otherwise I don’t feel human.  I don’t feel real to him.  I mean he followed my comment by asking me about my workout at the gym as if it were no big deal.  For me, it’s a HUGE deal.  It’s frustrating.  I don’t think he knows what to say, so he does nothing, says nothing.  So I have to pretend in my own house like I’m not a real person.

I’ll make it until tomorrow when he goes to work and then I’ll let myself melt.  Then I’ll go get a new driver’s license and replacement ATM card.  Thank God I just got a new credit card in the mail so the one I had is no longer valid anyway.  I also don’t travel with everything I own when I go to the club for just these moments, so it was just cash, id, credit card, ATM card.

Somehow, I just know it’s here somewhere, and that makes me more frustrated.

Oh well, I will continue my life separately from the world I live in.  It’s just the way it is I guess.

p.s. I’ve checked my bank account and there’s been no activity since last Thursday.  It’s somewhat of a relief that my wallet wasn’t stolen, but it’s also a reminder that my suspicions were probably right.  :/

Sometimes you do what you can just to get by

I don’t think this post is triggering, but it could be so please be careful to check within before reading about my day…

I don’t know why I maintain this blog.  I am not at a place to talk about my life with DID.  Somehow, closing this blog is like shutting down that part of my life, so I guess, however infrequent, I will continue to write.

Today, I’m struggling.  I’ve needed to draw from my inner creativity to get a written work completed and I just can’t.  There is and has been a barrier for over a month now, and it’s starting to drive me nuts.  Somebody’s angry and I can’t let go.  It’s wearing me down.  Lots of violent dreams overnight.  Failed big exam in front of classmates who expected more of me, was running with a gang trying to avoid being killed, at a school parking lot during open fire and trying not to be killed.  Lots of stuff like that.  The killing piece is not a normal part of my dream sequence so I guess I’m just a little off today.  Ok, a lot off today.

As always, I can’t let go.  I am so afraid when angry presence fills my body because I just don’t know what will happen.  I don’t want to hurt anybody.  I don’t want to hurt myself.

I hate this diagnosis.  Besides my husband, only 2 friends (not even sure if 1 is really a friend) know but they never ask or really want to know.  Nobody does.  That’s what makes it so much harder.  How do I explain that I couldn’t get something done because an alter wanted their time in the spotlight?

I stopped therapy, have quit my job and trying to do something where I can work independently on my own schedule.  Hit a brick wall with therapy and I know I’ll be back around eventually.  I just need to breathe for a moment, but I still can’t.

Nobody really wants to know…me.

Finding the right forum to let the anger out

With the holidays and a few other schedule conflicts, I’ve missed my weekly therapy sessions for about the last 3 weeks.  One of the places we left off was me sharing that I have this immense angry presence inside that seems to be the one thing at the surface right now.  I’m afraid of that feeling, whether me or it’s a part, because it so intense and destructive.

We talked about some options on how to have the “angry session”.  Maybe drive somewhere where I could just scream and destroy things with her near enough to make sure I’m ok.

To be honest, I’m afraid of anything along those lines because I’m pretty sure it would lead to some pretty serious urges to cut myself and really turn that pain inward.

One of my latest thoughts is to organize a 5K run/walk against sexual violence for my community.  Something where I could channel my energy into something positive.  However, the thought feels overwhelming at the moment, too.

What ways have you found to release years of anger?

Showtime makes Hollywood spectacle of DID on new series “United States of Tara”

My husband, with good intentions, alerted me today that he has a new show for me to watch on Showtime that’s supposed to deal with “your thing”.  So, of course, I google it to find out the name and some more details.  As someone who is still not convinced of my diagnosis and just ultra sensitive to public perception of people living with DID, I’m not so sure that even watching the trailer makes me want to watch the series.  Actually, my first reaction is anger.

click HERE to read the review from slashfilm.com

click HERE to watch the trailer on showtime.com

Diablo Cody has written this series and she’s behind one of my fav films Juno, but I still am feeling angry about it.

After watching the trailer, what are your thoughts?

For those like me that have trouble finding words to speak.

For everyone who might feel this way sometimes…  I’m there right now…

I Want To Live Before I Die- poem by Dana Glen

Dare I to dream that life holds more
Than I have experienced in my life before;
Cast away self-built walls that bar my way;
A shadows existence — it’s own price to pay;
Unbolt invisible locks that hold my soul;
Risk to feel real — not just play a role;
Shrug away fears that inhibit me now;
Find the courage to really live, somehow.

I want to be all that I can be,
Experience all that’s there for me,
I want to soar, I want to fly,
I want to live before I die,

Can I free the child hidden deep in me,
To let her feel, romp and act naturally,
Lose herself in wonder, joy and awe,
By seeing things the way I’ve never saw;
To allow her to scamper and uninhibitedly play,
To perceive things in a fresh new way;
But mostly to assure her of simply this–
That she’s perfect just the way she is!

I want to spin fantasies and fairy tale dreams,
To just be silly, not worry how it seems,
I want to laugh, I want to cry,
I want to live before I die.

Can I reach out in friendship and assuredly know
That acceptance is there, and watch it grow,
And look in the mirror and really see me,
Instead of the person I thought I should be;
Have the courage to open up my heart,
And allow the fear and uncertainity to depart;
To cast this passive nature to the side
And really dare to feel and be alive.

I want to go where I’ve never been,
And see the things I’ve never seen,
I want to do, I want to try,
I want to live before I die.

Can I touch someone and they touch me,
Without restraint, glory in the intimacy,
Taste their essence as they taste mine,
Let our minds, souls and bodies intertwine;
Give myself, unristingly, without the fear
That has always kept me from getting near;
To soar in passion, without control,
Yet experience tenderness, and we be whole.

I want to feel what I’ve never felt,
And feel my control begin to melt,
Feel my body really come alive,
I want to live before I die.

Can I taste life’s sweetness and savour the pain
And go back and do it all over again;
Can I learn to live for just a minute in time,
And grasp that moment and make it mine;
Experience what now I can not conceive,
But people are starting to make me believe–
That’s there’s more out there than I have seen,
And there’s more to me than I have been.

I want to know that my life is real
And feel the things I need to feel,
I want to grow, I want to thrive,
I want to live before I die!

Diana Glen–(1997) ©

Quiet Silence

When I’m not busy with things there’s a silence that I can’t stand right now.  And now my silence has a sound thanks to watching “Georgia Rule” tonight.  I had nooooo idea what I was sitting down to watch.  At the same time, I want to see the entire thing.  Glad hubby’s asleep or he would’ve vetoed it like 5 minutes into it.

What an unexpected flick tonight.