Monday, 27 June 2011

Losing time

I wonder if I lose more time that I tend to realise. Lately I seem to be incapable of remembering to drink my tea before it goes cold. Ad is very good at making me tea; he's also become very good at reminding me that he's made me tea when it's sitting right next to me. Another thing I've noticed in recent months is that I am also almost incapable of making toast without burning it. The only way for success is to stand over it staring at the bread. If I try to multitask, without fail I will end up nearly setting fire to the house. Is it because I am dissociating and time is jumping on or am I just a fluff head?

Friday, 24 June 2011

Dissociative Disorders Interview Schedule thoughts...

I have heard (or rather 'read') people talking about the Dissociative Disorders Interview Schedule and I always wondered why it wasn't done with me in clinical psychology. I have filled in the Dissociative Experiences Scale (DES) before a few times and have written about it here (I finally figured out how to do those links! Ha ha!!). So yesterday I took a notion to google 'Dissociative Disorders Interview Schedule' and I found a link to the test which I did my best to fill in myself and mark. I may or may not have done it properly but I had a go anyway and discovered a few interesting things.

The first is that I think perhaps this interview was done with me in my very first or maybe second appointment in clinical psychology because a lot of the questions were very familiar. Either that or maybe they just ask similar questions in their assessments. If it was this test, why was it done in my first appointment? Is that routine for clinical psychologists? Surely DID is not that common? I doubt that the psychologist could have had any idea at that time that I had DID as I had no idea of it myself. I knew it wasn't 'just' depression and that weird stuff happened to me but I didn't think it could be pinned down to something that has a name and I wasn't about to start telling someone who had the potential to lock me up in a loony bin about them. Maybe it's to do with the specific psychologist I saw (I may over-use this new amazing linking ability but I am just very excited about it so humour me).

Another interesting thing I discovered, although unsurprising is that my score vastly exceeded the minimum score to be positive for 'somatization disorder'. I kind of already new this given that I often tend to feel ill and have had strange physical ailments for no apparent reason for many's a year. It has been helpful to 'know' that though. I would have liked it if I could have been given some feedback about this from psychology at some point over the last few years. Maybe I wouldn't have worried so much at times that I am dying of something, or maybe I could have been more alert at times when the physical symptoms are worse to the fact that there might be internal psychological factors going on which I need to address. One thing that bugs me about going to clinical psychology is that I don't get that kind of feedback. I think I probably still wouldn't know about DID if I hadn't specifically asked. Is there some kind of advantage to keeping people in the dark about everything?

Another thing that surprised me was the questions about 'Supernatural/Possession/ESP' like "have you ever had any kind of supernatural experience such as seeing the future while awake?". I would like to know why these questions are asked? What is it to do with DID that would make someone more likely to have these experiences? I have had the experience of seeing the future a number of times since the age of about fifteen. It seriously freaks me out when it happens because I'm not expecting that the image I have just seen in my mind is actually about to happen. It only happens at times that I have been in a very specific mental state and having a lot of dissociation symptoms. I want answers: does this happen to other people with DID? Why does it happen?

The main thing that surprised me was to find that the answers I gave put me in the 'dissociative identity disorder' box. When I told Ad about this he was more surprised at my being surprised about the result than he was about the actual result, which surprised me (that sentence will test if your brain's awake or not!). In all honestly, I was truly expecting that I wouldn't fit the profile at all. I still struggle to believe it could really be true. I thought I would probably fit the criteria loosely but that I wouldn't fit the bill strongly enough for that box to be ticked but as I was marking my answers it became quite clear to me that I fit the profile almost exactly. I don't know if the reason I don't accept it is because of the implications of accepting I do have it (IE what the fuck happened to me to cause this?) or if it's just a 'part' of me that will never believe it. It must be partly the latter because a lot of the time I do accept that I have dissociative identity disorder.

As with the DES however, I still feel there is a  flaw in this measurement process in that it asks questions which may be difficult for someone who has DID to know the answers to. For instance, experiences from childhood; if you have DID you may not be able to remember the things they are asking about so if you said 'no' it might not necessarily mean that a particular thing didn't happen but that perhaps that memory is stored elsewhere. Anyway, I'm perhaps being pernickety. I did give this test more of a thumbs up than the DES all in all.

In conclusion though, for me, I was surprised at the result, then surprised at my surprise. I'm also surprised to find that in some ways the result has made little difference to my thinking. The part of me that knows I have DID is reassured and the part that doubts it still doubts it. If they think I've just subconsciously made it all up then it's not hard to believe I subconsciously picked the answers that would get the right score. Sigh.

P.S  If you're looking for a link to the test, try this one (there she goes again with the links). It's probably not the best version of it, but I can't be bothered finding a better one. I suppose seeing as that the test is entitled Dissociative Disorders Interview Schedule, it would be fair to say it's probably not meant to be taken by your average Joe on the internet, but there are no laws about these things and who doesn't love a good test?

Thursday, 23 June 2011

Where have the kids gone?

So as you may have noticed from the last post, I seem to be going completely bonkers... but I'm sure I'll still continue to get up every morning and drag myself to work so my purpose in life is being fulfilled in keeping myself 'debt to society' free (it's all energy in versus energy out again). I appear to be becoming more and more dishevelled by the day and I'm pretty sure I must be on the verge of starting to go bald because every time I shower I am getting handfuls of hair coming out. I don't know how I don't have any bald patches yet (that's just a little FYI for you there). I also seem to have developed horrible spots all over my body. It must be some kind of stress condition like psoriasis. This paragraph makes me sound like a freak.

Someone has already told you about 'fucking clinical fucking psychology' yesterday and I don't have the energy to expand on how it went but, I will get round to it eventually.

So for now all I wanted to say is, I haven't seen the kids around lately. I don't know when they disappeared because it wasn't an immediate noticing of their absence, but it was definitely at least since the previous clinical psychology session two weeks ago. In fact I think Little C spoke to T at that session and oh yes! I am remembering now; Little C and Pan took pictures of things they liked after that session and then... off the radar.

Is it me or them? Maybe they are all still there and I'm the one gone. Lets not get into all of that at this time of night! It's just curious and I miss them. It's easy to be around them. I like them and Ad likes them. I've noticed a few signs that maybe they aren't that far, like the odd brief and incomplete appearance with Ad and I noticed I was sucking my thumb last night (cringe!) but my teddys have been neglected in the cuddle department over the last few weeks and for the main part I haven't heard from them.
It's times like this that I feel the prospect of 'integration' is horrifying.

I guess one thing about them being wherever they are is that there's an opening for others to have time out, as evidenced by the post yesterday. I can't identify who that was by. 

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Nice ta meet ua

I need some list of emotions to be able to pick the ones. I don't know who I am. Nice to meet you anyway. I think my brain got put through the shredder. It didn't go well with the T at fucking clinical fucking psychology. Some think we shouldn't go back. We probably will though cos she's pathetic that way. I've got a fucking rib sticking out the side of my fucking rib cage. It sticks into the mattress. That's nice isn't it. Even nicer when I heard it snapping. I wake up in fucking agony cos I been lying on it and I can't move cos it's bent down and if I lift up it feels even sore. Why peple always want to sit on you and squash you like a slug. Fucking wankers. WHo the fuck think she is? Friday coms I want to slash our arms open but she wont fucking let me do it if she can help it. Doesnt help though anyway you jsut get interrofgations aftera and wish the world could eat you up. We are not not worthy. I got as much right as you to be here so shut your gob. Not you Mr and mrs blog reader, I just telling them others inside to ficking piiss off and give me a chane to have my say/ Sorry i cant spell, shes trying to fic x it as I go cos otheriwsise you wont be able to read any of it. its waoudl lohk like this if she doesnt cordntc it! shes liek a fuckking prison guard. We dont get a break. Anywya its nice speaking to you all, give you a break from Hitler. I've gotta piss so Im gonna go abut i sned you a song I like under here. Over and out soldier! Fuck y parnets
Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit

Monday, 20 June 2011

This is not a real post

My last post was way too long. Even I was put off proof reading it by the length of it so I totally don't blame you for not reading it. I would normally split a post that long in two but I wanted to get all the fathery stuff out on Father's Day so that I could forget about it all today!
Needless to say, I am glad to see the day over despite having to bite my tongue a few times in work today when people were chatting about it. I felt like telling everyone to stop fucking rubbing it in. Anyway, it's OVER now so let's move on Candy...

This is not a real post. I just felt like reviewing the last two weeks briefly because it is T day again tomorrow. I'm not sure how I'm feeling about going tomorrow. A bit nervous (normally I don't feel nervous in advance: I look forward to going but turn into a quivering bag of jelly as soon as I step into the waiting room) I suppose. I'm nervous in case T wants to talk about the suicide thing again. I feel far from it all now so I don't know if getting myself close to it again will be easy. It stirs parts of me that I like to ignore most of the time.
I'm also nervous because of all the shifting in my mind recently; because I feel less in control of it so more at liberty for others to come out in the session. Others meeting T is something they have wanted to happen and I've wanted to happen but haven't been able to let happen because of a need to monitor and be in control all of the time. I feel my ability to do this may be decreasing and although I think this is a relief in some ways it also makes me more scared because I know it brings the potential for heavy stuff which is exhausting.

I have been in function mode a lot lately (not when blogging but most of the rest of the time), so my feelings about a lot of things are hard to remember. I don't feel pissed off about T's lack of response to my email anymore. Logically I still disapprove but I don't have the feeling about it anymore. I don't feel angry (although I think I probably am still on some other level). I just don't really care. So I'm guessing I might not even mention it. Who knows though; I am so fickle, I could be feeling completely differently in an hour's time never mind tomorrow.

How I've been feeling emotionally of late has been very separate to how my actions would represent how I have been. Does that sentence make any kind of sense? Basically I could say, I'm feeling nothing and not thinking much, therefore things must be OK for me. But if I were to note how I have been in other ways, it's not good. For one thing, the amount of blog posts I have been spewing out suggests that some part of me is thinking, even if in general I feel switched off and numb. My actions over the last while would also suggest something is going on: making myself sick, withdrawing from the world, thinking about death, finding myself awake at all hours, freaking out when someone speaks if I'm not expecting it, crying (I don't usually do that), my general lack of making an effort to look decent most of the time and my overwhelming anxiety at the prospect of doing anything other than lying curled up in a ball when not at work. These aren't such positive signs. I tend to forget about these things and think everything is sunshine and lollipops because I don't feel bad at that particular moment and then I'm surprised when I find myself lying in a heap feeling like I have been sat on by an elephant the next moment.
That's all for now. I suggest you ignore this post and listen to the Doris Day video posted by one of the others. It's much more interesting than my self absorbed tripe. Well, if you've gotten this far, it's obviously too late for that advice. Wish us all luck for psychology tomorrow....

Doris Day ~~~ Sleepy Lagoon

I love Dinah Shore's version of this song too which has a more tropical feel to it, but Doris Day's voice is like velvet. This is a dreamy, calming and safe song. I can almost see the fireflies...

Sunday, 19 June 2011

Father's day: the good and bad dads I had

I won't be wishing my dad a happy Father's Day this year but I don't want to be completely ungrateful. Although my dad has hurt me in ways I don't know if I will ever fully recover from (I sound so melodramatic but I don't have a less corny way of saying it) it would be unfair to say he never tried to be a good father. For myself I want to be able to acknowledge the hurt as well as the good in my childhood. I won't be sharing any of this with him, for both of our sakes.

So, if you've read my blog in the past you might know that all is not rosy with me and my daddy. He has made it quite clear that he has no interest in me. He never contacts me, seems to go out of his way to make me feel inferior when I do see him and is the cause of a lot of hurt that he hasn't made any attempt to make amends for. 

After he moved to England and monumentally slapped me in the face by telling me that he had 'done his job' as a father and never wanted kids anyway, I continued to send him a card on Father's Day. It was always difficult finding one that didn't say 'thanks for everything you have done and still do' or proclaim that this particular father is the best in the world (I may still love him but I'm not going to lie to myself or him!). I didn't want to be in any way able to blame myself for the lack of relationship with him. I stopped sending them after a few years because he never acknowledged that he had received them and I began to realise how unimportant I am to him.

I still think about him on Father's Day and I feel more sad than I care to admit, but I try not to dwell on it and remind myself that I've done my best to be a 'good daughter' and it is just not going to make any difference.

This year I have struggled because (if you are on Facebook you may have seen this) of the challenge to put a picture of your father as your facebook profile picture for three days. This Facebook challenge is upsetting for a few reasons: one being that it's bad enough that it's Father's Day and I have a crap father so feel sad about that, but the majority of people I know have taken the challenge and it's reminding me of it every time I go online. Secondly, it upsets me that two of my sisters have changed their pictures and seem to have completely no problem with my dad any more, even though we all have reason to be angry with him. I'm not annoyed because I think they shouldn't speak to him (I'm happy for them if they feel they have a relationship with him); I'm annoyed because it makes me feel as though I am just overreacting to my whole life with my dad. I know it gives him fuel for his 'woe is me' fire as well. I know my dad; I know how he thinks and I'm pretty sure he is in complete denial about any blame that should be on him as far as the failure of our relationship goes.

It is reassuring that one of my sisters at least hasn't gone along with it, even though I feel sad for her that she probably feels the same way I do. I guess it also upsets me because I know it's going to be more obvious to my dad that I am not happy with him. However, maybe that's not a bad thing. Maybe in not confronting him and avoiding letting him know I'm angry with him, it's as bad as if I was just lying to him. Then I stop to think about the facts and realise that he may not even give a shit anyway. This is something I'm not sure about. I know he doesn't give a shit about me, but I think he wants to be loved and so will still pick up on any failure in that respect. Yeah, that about sums him up.

HOWEVER, I didn't come on here just to moan about my dad. Despite his efforts to show how little he cares about me, I do have some memories of my childhood and they weren't all bad. Sometimes I struggle to see how the good ones can fit in with the bad ones. I know I coped with this by splitting off who I was at those times, so I didn't have to fathom how someone who apparently did love me could also want to kill me. I still get stuck in a ditch when I remember a good thing, of thinking: “You have made up all the bad stuff, how could those things possibly be true when he (insert loving act here) for you?!” Likewise when I remember a bad thing, it's hard to fathom how the good times could have really happened. I just need to remind myself that whether or not he had any feelings of love for me, he wanted to be 'good' and tried to be a good father some of the time.

So, in an attempt to acknowledge the good parts of my childhood, here are some of the better memories and things I can thank my dad for:

  • A few times I remember waking up on a school morning and my dad telling me and my sisters that we weren't going to go to school that day, but that he was going to take us to the beach instead. We never really got to do fun stuff like that because of the church/cult, so an event like this was like an unexpected Christmas day for a child. I remember jumping up and down in the hallway with my sisters shouting: “We're going to the sea side!!! We're going to the sea side!!!”
  • We didn't have much money when I was a child. Sometimes my parents couldn't even afford food for us. I still find it hard to imagine how a family living in a place like the UK could be in so much poverty, but it does happen. We never had new things; being the youngest, my clothes were usually fifth hand by the time I got wearing them (didn't help with the bullying on non uniform days, that my clothes were practically Victorian style). When I was about five or six I remember knowing that my dad was working on a secret project in the cellar of our house. He seemed to be down there for weeks. My birthday came and he presented me with a dolls house completely made by him. Each room was decorated with carpet and wall paper and the front of the house was painted with bricks and ivy and a red shiny door and the words: “Candy's House” on the front. I still have the doll's house although it lives at my mum's house now. This was a happy memory.
  • The time my sister's and I cleaned the whole house from top to bottom and my parents took us to McDonalds as a reward. I only went to McDonalds twice as a child so this was a HUGE event for us.
  • Going for walks in the Holywood Hills with my dad when we moved to Belfast. He would tell me not to change the way my older sisters had and would lament to me about how they weren't interested in doing things like walks with him. Now I can see that he obviously just doesn't know how to relate to teenage girls... I tried so hard not to change. I still went walking with him all through my teens. I even took up fishing. I wanted to be the boy he always wanted to have, but I guess I just couldn't ever be man enough for him. This memory maybe isn't just as positive but I'll leave it in anyway because I have found this revelatory.
  • My eighteenth birthday: he went out and bought me a giant teddy bear. Now this was monumental for my dad because he never got involved in buying gifts for birthdays or Christmas; that was always Mum's job. I still have that bear and although it makes me feel sad because of the loss of my father, it means so much to me. It's like a tiny speck of knowing how it feels to be loved. I always go to that bear when things become unbearable. I've woken many times over the years from a dissociation induced state of unconsciousness with my arms around 'bear'.
  • The one time I remember him telling me he loved me. I must have been about twenty one. It was after he left the church/cult and was going through a lot of things, having been a leader of it and then being without that role. Anyway, I think he was feeling a lot of stuff and I remember him coming to me and hugging me and telling me he loved me and was sorry for all the times he had hurt me. At the time I told him that he had always been a good father and had nothing to apologise for. I felt uncomfortable. I was the person who only knew the good memories and had blocked out the bad ones. When I remember this one occasion, I doubt his statement that he had 'never wanted kids' and had done his time as a father.
  • He HATED Christmas. Every year he'd tell us we weren't having a tree (some years we didn't: sometimes we were allowed one but it had to be kept in the airing cupboard so he didn't have to look at it. I would go and sit on the landing at the top of the stairs, plug the lights in and open the cupboard door for a while to enjoy the 'festivities' on my own) and that there was going to be no Christmas but on the day, he would usually manage to muster up some Christmas spirit and get involved. He made some amazing Christmas dinners. He is a great cook.
  • When I was about seven, I got into stilts in a big way. At school during PE class we would get a choice of outdoor playing equipment and I would always run for the stilts. It was the first time I ever felt good at something and I remember breaking the record for the furthest walked on stilts in my school (OK, so it was only across the playground and school field but I was only seven for crying out loud!). I wanted stilts to use at home so badly and my dad decided to make me some. (It's hard to remember these things: I feel happy, but at the same time I feel more and more confused about how he could do such nice things but then seem to hate me SO much at other times)
  • He could be really funny and he's very intelligent. I think a lot of people in my church/cult would have looked up to my dad and I'm sure there were people who thought we were so lucky to be living with him. He was very different with other people than he was behind closed doors. Occasionally, he would be in a good mood and the family would get a share of his humour too.

I use Father's Day as a barometer for how I am progressing with my feelings about him. I think the fact that I have been able to think about these things and acknowledge both the good and bad feelings, is progress from previous years. Last year I was more numb. The year before that I felt almost overwhelmed by the feelings of loss. The year before that I cried my eyes out in Tesco whilst looking for an honest card to give him and failing to find one that made the cut (by the way, there's an obvious niche in the market if you're looking for a business opportunity: Mother's/Father's Day cards for bad parents). The year before that takes us back to denial and a different Candy. What will next year bring? The other barometer I use, is the question: “How would you feel if he died now?”. This barometer never yields healthy reports.

Social anxiety and fear of being touched

This evening, in an attempt to be a good colleague, good friend and a normal person, I attended two social events. The first was a work barbecue, the second a house party at Pou's. I only go to things like this because I feel I 'should' and there's always a part of me that hopes I might enjoy myself, but invariably I don't. Why are social situations so difficult?

It doesn't help is that I think I look like a freak and so am constantly paranoid that other people are judging me in this way. I try to tell myself that I don't look any worse than a lot of other people and that if I just had confidence in my appearance I would blend in but I don't really believe this. I feel so so so so ugly and fat and conspicuous. So if the occasion requires any kind of dressing up, that's a sure way to send me into a state of anxiety in itself. Today was a barbecue so we went for the tartan shirt, skinny jeans and heels combo. Shan likes it when I wear the tartan shirt, especially if I dress it up with a necklace. It's like lesbo meets princess and she gets a kick out of that somehow. Anyway, given that it was more of a casual affair for me I felt slightly less anxious in that respect.

Despite this minor advantage, I still hated almost every minute of it. I think I am the kind of person who people like to talk to if there is no one more interesting around. This works well for me in the office because I can chat to people every now and then when there is no one more interesting about for them and it means there's not a lot of pressure on me to converse (which I often don't feel like doing). However, when involved in a group of more than a few, I have no hope of being listened to or engaged with. This makes me feel like an inferior human being, which I believe I am anyway, so it just confirms it to me... hating self so much just now.

Thirdly I have some stupid hearing problem where I can't hear what people are saying if there is any background noise which means it can be almost impossible to join in a group chat in a noisy setting.

Fourthly, and probably most importantly, I feel like an alien. I feel like even if I looked stunning and people were interested in me and I could hear them... I'd still be hating every minute of it and wanting to run away home and hide. I just don't feel like I am on the same planet as anyone else. I can hold a conversation for a few minutes, but it's all fake. It's not me talking; it's the part that acts in this social manner in order to blend in. Inside I am panicking that any second they are going to realise I am a fraud; a freak, crazy... that I don't belong here.

I want to be able to be myself, but who am I? I want to have friends but I will never be able to make friends with anyone normal because all I have to give is this facade of normality which can't maintain for more than a few minutes. So I am trying to look like I am enjoying myself; wanting to enjoy myself; wanting to be able to engage meaningfully with another human being but also wanting to run away and be alone; feeling so far from the lives these people around me seem to be living.

I think part of all of this is growing up so separate from normal life; because of the church/cult (whatever you want to call it) I grew up in. You are physically and emotionally separate from others in the world. You are taught to be in the world but not of it... and that's just how I feel. I'm here, but I don't belong here. At least when I was in that church I felt like I did belong somewhere else. Now I don't have any other setting in which I do feel I belong. I am an alien altogether.

I sometimes resign myself to the silence. I sink back into myself and watch the world around me: smiles... laughter... bonds of friendship... I see people enjoying life. I wonder if I will ever smile genuinely or laugh truly, not just out of politeness. Will I ever feel the bond of friendship grow? Will I ever feel that life is something enjoyable? I see people enjoying a joke and it contrasts with the dark images in my mind of things that haunt me constantly and I wonder how there can be any hope for me to feel happy when I can barely imagine what that might be like.

My main feelings throughout the evening were those aforementioned, with a few moments of less discomfort/mild positivity when engaging one colleague who seems to talk more to me than others do (but I fear this is more to do with her own insecurities socially as she's always quick to drop me when someone else shows an interest in her) and then a few interjected moments, when I was aware of my feelings of physical attraction to the same girl and a slight moment of panic that Shan would try to act on those feelings and then guilt that she (Shan) was thinking about what she wanted to do with the girl who was so innocently sitting with her leg pressed against mine.

Pou's house party was posibly even more uncomfortable and when I was leaving, Pou tried to get me in a group hug with her new boyfriend (who I only met today for the first time) and her. There were arms around me before I could think of a way out and I freaked out and told her I couldn't and that I had only just met BF and that she should know that I don't give hugs. I don't often hug her and have more than once asked her to please stop trying to hug me/touch me. I feel angry with her because I have explained that I find physical touch so horrible (Yes, I am aware of the complete contradiction between this and the last paragraph: but my mind is full of contradictions) and she knows that I have DID, so why then does she feel it OK to force me into a hug with a man I have never even met before? Afterwards I felt guilty for refusing and that I had made a scene and should have just done the fucking ritual, but then, on the other hand... it's my body and I don't want to be touched so why should I have to do it just to please someone else? Better late than never.

Friday, 17 June 2011

Tissues for T-issues

T emailed me last Friday to see how I was after the hard session I'd had on Tuesday. I was surprised to get her email and it felt nice to know she was concerned enough to contact me to ask. It's nice to feel cared for when I try to not remember that it is just a professional duty.

I wrote back telling her things weren't good and that I was scared. That was a week ago and I haven't heard back from her. Now I feel hurt and disappointed and confused. I wondered if I was being irrational to expect a response but when I told Ad about it he too felt that she should have gotten back to me at least to acknowledge my response.

I have been trying to figure out why she didn't write back or contact me. I have come up with several theories as to why she didn't get in touch again and none of them make me feel any better about it. Maybe she's busy (too busy to take one minute to reply?). Maybe she is trying to punish me? Maybe all she wanted to do was check I was still alive and by my response she made a psychological assessment that I would survive until the next session? Maybe she just didn't think it required a response? Maybe she's trying to prepare me for her impending abandonment. Maybe she just thinks I am looking for attention and that I'm exaggerating? Maybe she was just hoping I would say I was fine and had never planned to send more than one email and having that fixed view stuck with it even though I wasn't fine. Maybe she didn't get the email? Maybe she hates me? Maybe she just doesn't care.

I wish now that she hadn't contacted me at all. I don't know what I wanted but some kind of acknowledgement would have been appropriate I think. When things like this happen, someone inside screams at me with anger, for allowing us to be affected. It reminds me that I really am alone. It's an overreaction of feeling because it reflects the times I asked for help as a child or wished to be cared for by someone, only to see them turn away from me or hurt me. I'm SO angry at myself now for feeling so strongly about T. I'm angry at T and I'm angry at me. I hate being stuck in this pathetic endless and incurable state of wanting someone and wanting to run away at the same time; hoping for someone to care but knowing that they are going to hurt you.

Therapeutic relationships are so unnatural and unequal. Well, for me anyway. Maybe other people are much less affected by all of this. This is what I wanted to prevent after last time when the psychologist I saw before T left whom, I was only with for a few months. I was devastated by him leaving and I knew I never wanted to be affected by someone again that way. I did well to not feel for a while, but it's been two and a half years now with T and long ago I stopped being able to not allow myself to feel anything positive.

And the worst part? These feelings are over a stupid email that she probably hasn't even thought twice about since. What am I going to be like when she leaves? I know what it will be like. If I am honest and reflecting on how it was last. It's going to be really, really, really bad.

Orgasms Vs Vomiting.

So, how have we been? I will try to be succinct. I have been really really really stressed with work. Yesterday was a huge day for me, where I was delivering training to a large group of people... training that I have been organising for weeks, entirely on my own. I won't go into details but I think to tell you that the amount of overtime I have done in the last few weeks would be enough to give me four whole days off work in time in lieu might give you an idea of how much I needed to get done for this course. After the day ended yesterday, I was asleep by 7pm. I needed it! Two more training days to do next week and then I am pretty sure I will feel like a new woman.

Mentally, things are still weird in my head. I am feeling a bit separate from it all so not really able to explain what is going on, but it is weirdness. I feel very detached but still aware that stuff is happening. I think the daily headaches and nausea are related to mental problems. Before I started going to clinical psychology I would get sick often (at least once a week, often everyday for several days) with these strange ailments: usually really bad headaches, vomiting and/or nausea, pains and migrainey symptoms. Quite often if I threw up I would instantly start to feel better. I'm pretty sure it's more of a symbolic release of stress and tension than that there is anything bad in my stomach. Since going to therapy, the frequency of these things has reduced a lot.

I don't usually induce vomiting when I feel ill; it just builds to the level where it happens and then I will generally fall asleep. There are a couple of other things that can really help when I feel so ill: one is complete distraction. By this I mean, drag me out to the cinema. It's not something I ever feel like doing when I'm sick but it sometimes helps, but not always.

The other thing that helps is an orgasm.The prospect of one of these is equally not something I would be keen for. I am unlikely to want one of those at the best of times, so throwing up can seem like an easier option... What does it say about me that I'd rather vomit than have an orgasm? Orgasms are good aren't they?
I think pleasurable feelings are so rare for me that I find them almost unbearable to tolerate. It's hard to explain. Maybe that's a topic for another day and a more insightful person than this particular version of me. Anyway, if it goes on for long enough where I have tried everything else and nothing is helping, masturbation is a last resort and will also cause me to feel a release of whatever the badness is and then I will fall asleep. Incidently, sex doesn't give me a release. It stirs the dark ones.

Anyway, back to the weirdness (or the other weirdness). My mind is on the edge of something. Others are active without me. I am not the constant watching eye anymore; I know they are there, but I don't know what they are doing or thinking or saying. I can hear the chatter, but I am not making it out. There is constant music in my mind blocking me from them. Is it that I have lost awareness or is it that I am more aware of my lack of awareness (gold star if you can get your head around that sentence!)? Either way, it's OK. I don't mind. I feel less responsibility for them now. Could it be that in talking to T about how I didn't want to have to be in charge all the time; it has effected some sort of change in this aspect? Have I let go a bit? Have the others pulled away from me a bit? Shouldn't this be a bad thing: increased separateness? Why does it feel better then? I know why! Because, I don't have to deal with all of their shit. But I'm scared too, because I know things are happening and there is movement and I don't know what that will mean for us all.

I do feel less scared than this time last week though. I feel like the sudden urges to do harmful things have eased a bit. That's not to say the thoughts aren't still there. I just haven't felt so compelled to act on them for the main part.

Monday, 13 June 2011

I hate the world today

Today I am angry and tired and weary.

I feel like I am at the end of my tether. I know this is only temporary and just because of situations. Looking at it logically, it's just a matter of energy and maths. The energy I am expending on work is large and the energy I am expending on processing what's going on in my head is large. The energy resource I have for these things is not very large, therefore, there is no energy left after work and craziness for anything else, such as feeling like I want to be alive. I am in negative energy. The good news is, I don't really have the energy to care a lot of the time.

I cared in work today though. I felt so close to tears at several points.

I told my team leader (again) today that the work I have been expected to do is too much and that I have been working until 8 and 9pm most evenings and for hours at the weekend in order to reach the deadlines that I told her in April were too ambitious. She suggested (again) that I am not working efficiently enough. Except now I know that I am. I know I have been working harder than anyone else in my team. It's not me, it's them. I feel stuck though, because no one else has any insight into the kind of work I am doing except for one colleague, who won't support me in complaining because she knows some of my work would then be delegated to her.

Over the next few weeks I am delivering several days of training to a large group of people. My colleague was asked to attend to help deliver the training but when we sat down to decide what sections we would do on the days, she wasn't volunteering herself for barely anything. I felt pressurized into taking on most of the work. I looked over the allocations afterwards to find there was a 25/75 split in what we were doing. I approached her to ask if she would consider taking on more (not an easy thing for a mouse like me to do) and she was NOT happy. She got really annoyed and said that she thought that we had split it fairly. I then showed her the statistics on the amount of time we would each be talking for and she said: "Ugh, well I didn't realise we had come down to the level of counting minutes now!" I should have asked her if she could think of a fairer way to split the workload but instead I said something like how it would really help me out. She agreed to do slightly more but it barely changes the proportions. I am so angry with her. She hasn't done anything to help with the planning of the training so today's lack of co-operation has just been the icing on the cake really. But you can be assured she won't be shy about taking the credit for the training when it comes to feeding back at the next team meeting.

Work on it's own at the moment would be enough to send me to the edge but I feel like internally there is so much happening too. I feel like I can't stop the processes that are happening. It's hard to describe. I feel less able to control the others in my head lately. Like there is a mutiny; they've had enough of me holding them in and are determined that now is the time to break away from me. It's not necessarily a bad thing seeing as I have been trying not to be so much in control all the time but I'm scared. I feel like I am being dragged along behind.

God! I am sick of all the negativity. I bought some lillies the other day in a moment of clarity (the clarity involving realising that my life doesn't have many nice ingredients so I should try to inject some) and I am loving how they smell. They have lasted so long and every night when I get home from work I come in the door and smell them and it's like a little reminder that there is something in the world to be alive for, even if it's just a little thing like the smell of flowers (OK, that was my feable attempt at a positive comment!). I just need to find those little sparkles of hope in each day for the next few weeks and I will get there. I am sure I will feel better soon.

it hurts

Sunday, 12 June 2011

Nightmares and Daymares

I've been feeling ill the last few days. I'm not sure if it's because of an actual infection of some sort or if it's stress related. I haven't had much sleep lately so it could be over tiredness. At the moment I have some bad stomach cramps but at least my headache has eased off thanks to my old friend ibuprofen (I should buy shares).

The last week or so I have been having really weird dreams. I can't always remember them well but I wake up with a sense of something strange having been the content. Sometimes I dream that I have to engage in some kind of sex with someone from my family (not always the same person but usually one of three specific people). Obviously, this is really disturbing and I feel freaked out at the prospect. In the dream though I am always just trying to get on with it and get over the feelings of repulsion because I know it is something I 'should' do. I never stop and think: "Hang on, this isn't something I 'should' do; this is really wrong. Why don't I just say 'no'?"

I've had this dream a few times over the last week. It's horrible and scares me. The images of last night's version of this dream keep popping into my head today: trying to kiss that mouth when I want to run away; my body doing all the right things while my mind is screaming for me to stop. The scenes don't just go through my mind as dreams, sometimes they're there when I'm awake, like a waking dream that I can't stop. They are more likely to happen when I'm eating; if someone touches me (e.g. if a family member gives me a hug or if Ad wants to be intimate) or if I hear about 'bad things' (I still can't type those words).

It's hard to think about all of this and stay focussed. Thinking about it makes me feel ill. A lot of my energy in life goes into avoiding it. Today I seem to be braver than other days. I am able to write about this without really allowing the images to interfere too much at the moment. When I can tolerate thinking about it, I try to push how long I can stay on the subject. Most of the time when images like that come into my head I block them out as quickly as I can or I feel too anxious and sick. Sometimes though (not very often) I feel stronger and try to look at them and keep my mind open. I tell myself: "Try to remember." Sometimes I feel like I'm right on the edge of remembering but it always gets too scary and I shut it down again. I don't think I'll ever be strong enough to get through that. Or maybe there's nothing to get through.

Despite all the intrusions of images, the feelings in my body, the anxiety and the other people inside me who are so troubled, who the research would say are there as a result of something bad happening... I still end up thinking that it's not possible that those things could be real. I still tell myself I've made it all up. I know my parents loved me. I know they did their best for me. I can't see how those things could fit in. But there are bad things I do remember and how do they fit in with 'love'? I go round in circles.

That's enough now.

Saturday, 11 June 2011

Controlling myself

Today I made myself throw up after lunch. I've only done that once in the last long time (maybe over a year?) when T told me she was leaving me. Why today? I guess it's to do with the wanting to be dead thing. Being more aware of the fact that there is a part of me who feels that way (I am trying not to be naive) makes me question why I am trying so hard not to do unhealthy things that make me feel better if I will then go and try to kill myself. I guess what I am trying to say is, what's the point in not cutting myself or making myself sick if I am going to die from hanging anyway? Maybe if I do those other things, I won't feel so much like wanting to die? Or maybe that's a fucked up logic. 

I just don't know the answers. I try to just get on with life and avoid unhealthy behaviours and it doesn't seem to help me any. I know that the throwing up issue has always come up at times when I feel most out of control in life. So maybe it's because being aware of the prospect of suicide not being something I may be able to prevent, makes me feel very powerless and this behaviour is something that will help me to feel more in control of at least one part of my life.

I have wanted to write a lot lately. Sometimes I can't focus or care enough to blog and sometimes it's all I want to do. I feel guilty if I post more than a couple of times a week, but I'm really not sure why I should feel guilty about that. Writing on my blog helps me to sort my head out, so it's a good thing isn't it? I used to keep a diary most days. A blog is better in a way because I don't have to worry about my mum reading it and it feels less permanent than something on paper, so in a way it's easier to write honestly. On the other hand, I still like to write on paper sometimes too. It's easier to express some things on paper than on a blog.

Friday, 10 June 2011

Yolanda Be Cool & DCUP - We No Speak Americano

It feels wrong but I can't help loving this tune. It's like pressing a bruise.

Sound And Vision

The tune in my head today. Glad to be rid of 'Mad World', a bit too sombre. David Bowie by the way.

Wednesday, 8 June 2011


So I have started writing this post about six times now but I just don't have the insight at the moment to give a good explanation of how things are. Maybe another time I will be better able to expand on things.
One of my guys told T about what happened last weekend with the rope and my neck. They sent her an email with the blog post in it. I went to see her yesterday and she did seem rather concerned. She wanted to find out what the heck was going on in my head and what could be done to prevent me from doing anything stupid (not exactly the wording she used). I think psychology also have risk forms and things they have to fill in as policy so she wanted to ask lots of questions.
A big part of me feels it has all been blown out of proportion and that there is no problem, nothing to worry about, I want life, I'm strong, that's it... I was just having a moment.
Another part is scared though... really scared. Scared because someone inside does want to die and maybe it is strong too. I didn't want to admit this to T though because of the part that felt it would just add fuel to the fire and I'd end up getting locked up when there's actually nothing at all wrong with me except for a few loose screws. I find it hard even to admit to myself how this part feels.
T wants me to get rid of the rope. We both agreed that perhaps if it hadn't been sitting right there in front of me, I wouldn't have thought about hanging myself.
This is hard to say (I have been dithering about this paragraph for over an hour now), seeing as I want to live and it's all fuss over nothing... but (I wish there was a way to whisper on a blog) I haven't been able to get rid of it yet. I lifted it off the floor today, I held it in my hands, thought about putting it in the bin, then put it round my neck again and pulled it tight. Afterwards I put it back on the floor. I could feel the pain in my oesophagus afterwards. Part of me felt good afterwards, part of me scared, part of me angry that I didn't 'finish the job'.
I don't want to die but when I think about putting it in the bin my hands get clammy and my heart starts beating faster and I feel anxious. I hear someone inside far away say that it doesn't matter... there are other things that can be used if need be. I think it's more the symbolism of throwing the rope away that means a lot to some person. They don't agree to the decision so there on the floor it lies. They want to have options. It's fucked up that I've written that but will get up tomorrow and do a days work and no one will look at me and know what I was doing last night because they will just see a friendly person who's obviously stable otherwise she wouldn't be holding down that job.

Tuesday, 7 June 2011

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens...

Today I went to see my psychologist, T.
At the moment the session seems like a blur but I know it was very hard (I should be used to that by now) and I am knackered and have what I call the 'post therapy aches' all over my body. When we got home, it was either climb into bed and shut down or be someone else. I didn't really have the choice to go to bed because of hubbie related reasons so option B it was.
Little C and Pan decided they wanted to take photos of things they like so we went around the house and this is what they came up with....
(annotated by Little C with my help)

Candy made this pattern and it is pretty.

I like pink smarties!
Candy likes orange ones though.
Peanut butter is great too.

This is me and my friend on our big trip.
This is what we imagined New Zealand would look like... and it did.

Candy drew these hearts for me when I was very scared one day.
I feel better when I look at them.

Space hopper!

Drawing and colouring is fun.

A cute fluffy white paw

Russian dolls are a bit like us

Winnie and Cherry keep each other company when I'm not there to cuddle them.

Nothing cuter in the world...

This is a BIG cup and we like a BIG cup of tea.

My friend's cheeky monkey

Sparkles in my heart...

Saturday, 4 June 2011

A rope

I haven't thought about what I did last night much today, except to note that my arm was stingy when I went for a swim in the sea. Apart from that knowledge, I just haven't thought about it. I've had a nice day for my standards, despite being very tired. I haven't felt down. I didn't feel down yesterday either.

Last night I couldn't get to sleep because there was too much in my head.

I got up out of bed and went into one of the other rooms in my house where I sat on the floor and tied a rope around my neck and pulled it tightly just to get an idea of what it might feel like to hang myself. It hurt and my head felt weird. I thought about tying the other end to the knob on the wardrobe and dropping myself onto the floor. I thought about tying it on the banisters and jumping off.

I sat on the floor with my eyes open but not really looking at anything. I was trying to figure out what was going on in my head but I felt shut off from everything. All I could really feel was 'alone'. I wanted T to help me. My eyes felt weird. After a while I felt a strong urge to cut my arms. I couldn't though because my husband was in bed and the blades were in my bedside table; he would have wanted to know what I was looking for and would have been suspicious. I kept the blades even though I haven't used them in over half a year. It's reassuring to know they are there. I then went downstairs and found a broken plate in the kitchen. I tried to cut myself with the edge of a piece. It wasn't very effective but helped a bit to scrape it over my wrists. I got back into bed and cried myself to sleep (silently).

I dreamt about muddy floods taking my wallet, car keys, phone and other possessions out to sea while I tried in vain to save them. I dreamt I was trying to get to a therapy session which was in a remote location and I only had a horse to get to the bus stop and then my legs didn't work to get me on the bus so I had to pull myself up by my arms, then after the session being stranded there in the middle of nowhere with no way home and wanting to ask T to give me a lift back but not wanting to overstep 'boundaries'. I also dreamt about sex and being exposed and 'found out' and my mum. I dreamt about work and at one point remember half waking up and having a conversation with an alter about how it was important that I stop dreaming about work.

I woke up this morning curled up with my teddy and half a plate. I shoved the piece of crockery under the bed and went about my day. When I was in the shower I wondered if I could hang myself from the shower and considered that I'd need a chair (I'm only remembering this now). I didn't think much about anything during the rest of the day until now. I felt very drained and lacking in energy for most of the day but I didn't really think about that much either.

This is the first I have reflected on what happened last night. Why did I want to kill myself? There seemed to be a lack of connection between me and what was going on. These sudden moments of thinking about killing myself seem to just spring out of nowhere with no warning. Am I going to do something stupid and end up in hospital or worse?

What should I do to stop this from getting worse? Should I tell T? I don't know if it would get me in trouble or make her take actions when there may be no need. I remember last time I talked about suicide she tried to make me sign a contract to say I wouldn't do it. I told her I couldn't promise that and in the end we compromised to say I would contact Lifeline before doing anything. She said she didn't think I was going to do anything and I know what she means... there is a big difference between thinking about it and doing it. The thing is, it's not like I'm feeling suicidal or planning anything. The moment just seems to take over me. What if I do end it all without any warning? It scares me to feel so much at the liberty of some alter in me that is taking over my actions in this way.

One of my parts draws a picture of a hanging corpse. It's always drawn the same way. It's been drawn many times. I never understand it. I try to remember if I ever saw something like that. I wondered if it is some unconscious desire for someone who hurt me to die. Or if it is to do with my father. But now I wonder, is the corpse me? I don't want to be that corpse. I don't want to hurt other people that way.

Friday, 3 June 2011

No special room for us

T emailed me today to let me know that we won't be going to the 'special children's room' after all because it's getting work done on it. Well, the children were so very disappointed. I nearly burst into tears at my desk when I read it (I was at work at the time). But I managed to hold it together and be a grown up about it.

I am glad she emailed to tell me. They have been so excited all week and really looking forward to it, so at least that gives us some time to get over the disappointment before we go to therapy on tuesday. It could have been worse if we had arrived and she'd told us then.

She didn't say anything about whether or not I should still bring along the teddy to the session. I didn't like to ask; it was hard enough to suggest it the first time! So I guess I probably won't bring it. Poor Little C is so disappointed. She wanted to give Winnie a special sponge bath to make him all smart for showing T. She and Pan feel like they have been told Christmas has been cancelled :( I am trying to not let them take over because I don't want to have those feelings taking over my body right now. I'm too tired for it.
I know it sounds crazy as I am a full grown woman but these little people are real in me. They think and feel just like any other child would.

Wednesday, 1 June 2011

I didn't kill myself

I'm struggling with my feelings about the last post where part wrote that they wanted to be dead.

It's not that I am having a crisis at the moment and am not suicidal in general.

That part of me is always there; they just don't normally get to the forefront. I was having a bad time. I like to think that the fact that this part doesn't get out much and these feelings are quite separate from me most of the time as well as the fact that I have no plans to kill myself and most of the time, don't wish to, makes it unlikely that I ever will kill myself.

Partly though, this may be naive. I try to bury that person far away from the rest of us... I guess I don't know how else to manage her. But I am aware that the feelings of that part are so strong and real, which makes me remember that I shouldn't assume that I am safe, just because she doesn't get out much. I may kill myself one day, it is a possibility. I hope I won't though, for my husbands sake...and my family (even if I feel they don't care about me). If I do it will be a bad choice to make. But it's easy for me to see that.

I also feel guilty for publishing those thoughts on my blog. It is selfish. But then it is my blog, so I'm not sure how to feel. Maybe it's selfish but at the same time, maybe it's my perogative. My more pessimistic side tells me not to care because no one reads it anyway (although someone reasonable reminds me that a kind person did comment on the post)and I started the post for myself as much as anyone else. And maybe if people do want to learn about DID from reading a blog, they should know about it all.

It's at times like this I am glad I have never intentionally shared my blog with anyone I know (although I do get nervous sometimes when I see some of the search criteria that have been used to reach here).

And if you do know me, then piss off and stop reading my blog!

Anyway, to summarise, part of me wants to kill themselves but that part has been there for a very very long time and is not usually dominant. My T tells me I shouldn't ignore or not allow parts time, but what else can I do?