Lacking a consistent voice makes me confusing to those outside and inside of me.
At night, I often write things, whether a blog article, letter to someone, or a quick text. Sometimes I shop on Amazon while others are sleeping in my house. The difference for me is when I wake up in the morning it is a gradual unfolding of what I did the night before.
I see e-mails from Amazon alerting me to a purchase I don’t remember, and often don’t need.
I sometimes get an emergency call from my therapist before I have even awoken asking me if I am alright. That usually means some part of me has been texting or emailing her.
I almost never remember blog posts that have been written under our Mistaken Survival blog. I read them over and over, each time feeling like the first time I have read it, even though it was authored by this shared mind of mine.
I have learned to shrug and stay quiet in response to other people’s reactions to something I have done that wasn’t me. I kind of freeze because I know it was me, but it also wasn’t me. What’s the protocol for that scenario?
The mind is so adaptive. It is amazing I get through the days, but somehow I do.
It feels a lot like being lost, then found, then lost, then confused, then found, and on and on.
Unfortunately, this makes for a really spotty memory. And though I get by with the adaptive skills of my brain, it leaves me empty on the days I have the capacity to think about how little I remember about my life.
I read earlier today someone writing about how they don’t think of Dissociative Identity Disorder as a disorder at all. They see it more of a blessing and an alternative way of living.
Though I try my best to respect other’s differing opinions, it pisses me off to hear someone who has this disorder glorify it and act like it is a positive.
Here is the one true thing most people believe about DID (though not all parts inside of me agree with this opinion): if you have DID, it helped you survive as a young child when your life was so traumatic and overwhelming that your mind would not have survived otherwise.
If you truly have DID, it means there is major distress going on in your life. You can’t get the diagnosis if you are not impaired in some way.
Though I love all parts of me, even those I disagree with or can’t understand, there is nothing wonderful or great about the way we live.
I wouldn’t wish this chaos and confusion and missing life on my worst enemy. It sucks. It is not fun.
Some people describe elaborate parts who have hobbies and like to play like children. Those parts for me are hurt and damaged, and they are not having fun. They are mostly terrified every minute of their experiences.
Carrying around trauma on a daily basis and trying to survive is not fun. My life is extremely difficult, and profoundly sad due to the lack of connection I feel to the world and those in it.
This is no party. For me, it is a serious ordeal of surviving a life of torment and confusion.
I’ll let you have your opinion, and do my best to be respectful, but I can’t make that promise on a bad day.