Posted by: undercoverdid | June 7, 2016

I did it!

I’m so excited!  I’ve always wanted this opportunity and not only did the opportunity present, but I did it!

I spoke to a group of college students and it went well.  No one fell asleep 😉

I was able to say much of what I wrote out, though I did it without my notes so I’m sure it wasn’t close to exact.

It was powerful for me to speak up.  It was also the opportunity I’ve looked for.  I’ve always wanted to be a voice that might help reduce the stigma of not only mental illness, but especially of DID.  My key point was making sure they understood DID is a child’s way of coping with chronic sexual abuse.  While it makes for a great storyline in Hollywood, I tried to bring the realism to the topic.

I was also able to give first hand account of what it’s like to live with DID.  Again, Hollywood would have you believe it’s very simple.  A personality change is drastic and full of flair.  In reality those don’t occur as often.  Most of it is camouflaged because the heart of DID is hiding and keeping the secret.  It’s all about hiding the painful memories, the triggers, so that life can go on “normally”.

I was also able to speak about an alternative to integration.  When I was diagnosed integration was the “cure”.  Then over time therapists said the choice was integration or cooperation.  However, I have learned over time that it’s not really up to me.  The mind that helped me survive has evolved over time.  Just like no two people with DID create the same system, I believe no two people with DID will create the same path of healing.  My system has created something different and I’ve never heard of others doing this, though maybe they have.  Again, Hollywood tells us we must integrate.  My system has created a blending process.  The blends are the perfect way to hide, but also manage life.  It has reduced blackouts almost completely because the blends may include 2-4 insiders.  When there needs to be a change it’s not a total shift change, but maybe just one changes out.  It makes smoother transitions, less headaches and better connections with the outside world.  It’s not a conscious decision, it just happens.  It’s not perfect, there are times of being overwhelmed or not being the right blend to deal with a situation at the moment.  But this is where I’ve learned to buy time to give the system time to respond.  When I can buy that time, the system can figure out the best blend.

I think the blending has evolved over the past few years.  I was starting to get noticed, even though it worked well for me to have others come out and help, it was getting too much attention.  So the mind created a way to let the insiders do what they do best, but keep the camouflage.

It looks like I’ll be speaking again in about a month.  The next class of students will be in session.  Speaking is helping me think about how much I’ve grown because to explain it to someone who has no idea what I’ve experienced in my life, I have to better understand myself.  Plus, hopefully I can reduce the stigma and get more people who understand.  Plus, one thing I forgot to say but was implied and I want to make more direct next time is, “DID is completely preventable”.  This is a direct result of childhood sexual abuse.  So maybe, just maybe, I can help get more education about childhood sexual abuse and to reduce that number even by one is worth anything I can put into this.

Posted by: undercoverdid | June 5, 2016

Public Speaking

Some of this may be a repeat from other posts, but I’m compiling what I want to say when I speak to a group of college students tomorrow.  I’ll try to post more about how it goes!!!!

To help you understand what Dissociative Identity Disorder is and why it exists, I’ll share some of my “newsprint” history which I’ll explain what that means more as we go.

I grew up on a farm, so fairly isolated.  My dad was an alcoholic and worked the night shift and the farm.  If he was home, he was drinking or hung over.  My mom grew up being sexually abused by her father.  So was her sister.  Despite her own history with her father, I spent a lot of time with him.  He was married, but my grandmother wouldn’t be present.  He groomed me from a very young age.  I don’t know exactly, other than I never knew any different.  It didn’t start all at once, it’s a process.  He needed me to trust him.  In the situation I was in, my mother was emotionally checked out, so was my father.  My grandpa was the only one that would hug me, tell me he loved me, etc.  It’s biologically necessary for humans, especially children to need that attachment.  The abuse would grow over time.  It’d start as feeling and touching and went all the way to intercourse probably by the age of 8.  He had friends too.

At that age, when it’s all you know, you really don’t question.  You accept it as reality.  When you are sick you are given medicine and you hate how it tastes, but you know you have to take it anyway.  The concept is the same.  I wanted to be loved, so I kept going back.  Why didn’t I tell?  At this age I really don’t think I thought there was anything to tell.

However, this is also where DID comes in.  We’re going to go back through the story but look at it from the perspective of DID.

Psychologically speaking, children love their parents, even when they are alcoholics and checked out mentally.  They have to.  They are dependent.  Plus, can a child really process how it would feel if their own parents didn’t love them?  Most likely, my mother is DID.  If you were abused by your father, would you psychologically be able to handle giving your child over to the abuser?  But all of this was too much for me to process.  So from a very early age (again, I don’t know exact times but by the age of 3-4) I found a way to cope with all the inconsistencies.  I wanted to believe my parents loved me, so the abuse and neglect from them got stored away.  But, if you experience something, you remember it.  So instead of the “core person” experiencing the abuse, if there was a hint of an unhappy home, another “person” took her place.  This way when the one that experienced the abuse stepped back, the memories were gone.  In some cases, and mine seems to be one, the abuse started so early, that the “core” or the original person was locked safely away.  As situations arose, whether it was the father’s alcoholic rages or the mother’s emotional rants or the grandfather’s sexual activities, the mind would create a “person” who was equipped to handle the situation.  This way the memories went away with them and the “host” was unaware of abuse.  When a situation changed and was something that couldn’t be handled, then the mind would create a bigger and stronger version that could handle the additional trauma.  When the abuse was over, the person would be locked back away, the host would return and act as if nothing happened, because nothing happened to them.  They have no memory.  Remember I called it newsprint history?  There are many things I know that have happened in my life, someone inside experienced it and holds the feelings and the memories, but it’s not me.  It’s like reading a newspaper to me, about something that happened to someone else.

So who are these people?  The term multiple personality became very confusing and has left a huge stigma.  When Hollywood wants to create a special kind of dramatic flair to a crime, they’ll have the criminal be diagnosed with multiple personality disorder and show how the crime could be committed without knowing the crime was committed.  Then you have the criminals who claim “insanity” and that they have multiple personality therefore they shouldn’t be held accountable.  It all makes for great movies and TV shows, but the stigma and the “tossing around the term” makes it hard to have a real conversation about it.

First of all, most all cases of DID are people who survived chronic childhood abuse almost always with a sexual abuse component.  I say most and almost always because there is a rare case here and there that arises.  Second, a child’s mind is flexible enough to do this and do it well.  I won’t get too off topic but even the military understands the concept of DID and has used tactics to its advantage.  However, you’ll see differences because the adult mind just isn’t as flexible as a child’s who is still developing.  Third, a primary key to child sexual abuse is keeping the secret.  This is why DID and sexual abuse go together so well, if the “secrets” as well hidden, there’s less risk.

Remember I said the word “groom”?  The secrets are a big part of grooming.  The abuser, especially when you are looking at generational abuse, knows what they are doing.  They help the child lock those secrets away and get the parts to respond to them.  The reason people with DID don’t shout it from the rooftops is because it is created for the primary reason of keeping the secret.  Often the abuser will teach a part to “tell on” any parts that might conspire to tell the secret.  They often help create a “self-destruct” part.  A person with DID is way more likely to harm themselves than another person.  This is why it’s so important to be respectful of a person with DID.  Not that you should treat them differently, but certainly don’t treat them as a circus act drawing attention to them.  Also, be respectful of their boundaries to stay safe because it could trigger internal problems for them.

So back to my history.  My grandfather died when I was 10.  It was not until I was 12 that I realized I’d been sexually abused.  I know, it sounds strange, but they taught it in school and that’s how I found out what had happened was wrong.  Remember, I told you, the “core” was locked away?  My original job back at the age of 12, was to tell and get help.  Remember all the self-destruct instructions?  Obviously I wasn’t able to tell.  I did try, but remember I grew up on a farm?  Not only was I in a socially isolated situation, but my grandfather had some well connected friends.  He was well known in the small town, a leader in the county and even known state-wide.  No one would have believed me.  My mother found out I was trying to “tell” and that’s when I found out she’d been abused as well then came the stern warning of not harming the “family name”.  Finally we’ll call them the “board of directors” inside, decided to bring me back in.  I have no direct memory again until the body was 21.  So I was born when the body was 12 then was hidden away until age 21.

Which brings me to the question, how do you find out you have DID?  I’ll admit, my story is probably different than most.  At the time I was married to an abusive husband and the one married to him refused to leave him, but it was getting to the point if the body didn’t get away, the body would die.  So in self-preservation mode, “the board of directors” toss me back out.  The only way I can help you understand how this truly feels is the first few episodes of the show Orphan Black.  They are clones, but she is mistaken for another clone and is thrust into a relationship with a guy she doesn’t know, a job she doesn’t know, etc.  She can’t tell anyone she isn’t the clone and she can’t show she doesn’t know what she’s doing.  While the internal system had some direction for me, the newspaper history misses a lot of critical information.  I was dealing with an abusive husband and I had to figure out how to get out of it.  However, I was also working and had to figure out the job without raising eyebrows and get to know people without them knowing I wasn’t the same person.  However, because the one who’s life I replaced wasn’t going willingly, she’d fight me for control of the body.  I blacked out a couple times behind the wheel of a car, those are fun to explain to a police officer!  This isn’t a “normal” experience, but was happening because of the fight for control.  As things calmed down, the blackouts didn’t happen as dramatically.  I went to a doctor appointment, it was on the schedule.  The therapist instantly realizes the diagnosis he’d made a couple years prior was spot on.  Apparently she’d have no part of it.  I, on the other hand, knew something was up.  However, my experience had been internal.  So when I started having people on the inside yelling at me while I was on the outside, that freaked me out for a while.  However, you have to understand, I don’t know any different.  I don’t know what it’s like to not be DID.

 

Posted by: undercoverdid | April 14, 2016

Art project

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Posted by: undercoverdid | April 7, 2016

Preventable…

April is Childhood Abuse Prevention Month.

It hit me today, think about it, how many things could be prevented if only we could prevent child abuse!  The picture was in my mind, of parents with their newborn (in whatever make up the family is) and as they hold that baby in their arms, someone comes along side and says, “You can prevent the effects of brain damage, C-PTSD, DID, lower the chances of depression, anxiety, heart disease, anorexia, fractures, and many many more things if only you protect this child from being abused.”

I think breastfeeding is wonderful.  I remember when I was pregnant everywhere I turned I heard the benefits of breastfeeding.  I was given lists of benefits.  I’ll admit, in the trenches of it, there were days I wasn’t sure I could do it another feeding.  But that list stayed in my mind and I was determined to give my kids the very best chance.  Are my kids in perfect health?  No.  They struggled with reflux and asthma.  However, I know, I gave them their best shot.  I can’t imagine what more their health could have been.  And now, they are in near perfect health.  They no longer deal with reflux or asthma.

Seriously, how many parents in that moment of bliss could say, “No, I don’t want to give my child the best.  It’s ok if they are traumatized and go into adulthood struggling with psychological and physical problems that could have been prevented.”  I get it, life gets overwhelming.  However, why are we NOT screaming from the rooftops at how preventable child abuse is?

Dissociative Identity Disorder is rooted in severe childhood abuse, typically with sexual aspects that is ongoing.  I’m not talking one or two incidents.  Not that those are ok either.  But I’m talking a child being abused by an adult over and over and over until that child’s only defense, only way of survival is to fracture their mind.

Think of how much money goes into treating problems created by child abuse.  We were eating at Burger King and they had the news on.  A local story about a baby who had died after being put in the hospital by the mother’s boyfriend.  They showed pictures of this baby laying in a coma.  They listed several different bones that were broken.  My oldest child was so deeply affected.  We don’t watch the news.  Yes, she knows violence exists, but there is something about seeing a baby hurt so severely.

Am I the perfect parent.  Nope.  I grew up being abused and witnessing abuse.  I couldn’t live that way.  I still don’t understand how the cycle continues.  As a parent myself, I’ve had times I’ve been severely overwhelmed and didn’t make the best choices.  I see where lines start getting crossed, but something always clicked in me and I got back behind the line.  I’ve been flooding myself with resources and yearning for more.  The more I can learn and the more options I have for when I’m overwhelmed, the further away from the line I am.

In no way am I saying the government should raise our children, in fact, quite the opposite.  We need to rise up.  We need to make ourselves available.  If we suspect abuse, we need to intervene for the child.  I’ll never forget when I was in college.  I was doing my student teaching and I walked into a classroom and witnessed two teachers who’d each taught for over 20 years each.  They were for lack of better words, bullying and verbally abusing a first grader.  Two adults in their 40’s and 50’s verbally harassing a six year old.  I mean this is sad.  I go to my professors and I was told nothing would be done.  I was simply a student-teacher and these were tenured teachers.  There is no way someone would believe me over them.  I kept pushing and pushing.  I was finally told if I wanted to graduate and be able to teach, I’d better keep my mouth shut.  I was 21 years old.  I didn’t know what to do.  Every single day I saw this I wanted to scream.  Finally I decided I could become a teacher and make a difference.  Though that day has never officially come, I have put myself in situations where I do work with kids regularly and I hope in some way I am helpful.

When I had my first child, at some point my mother in law commented to me, “I had to do everything by myself to.  No one came to help me.  Tough isn’t it?”  Yea, instead of making comments like that, lending a hand or an ear might be nice.  See that young couple at church with the newborn that cries all the time?  Could you imagine what you holding their baby for even 5 minutes might do for them?  My first day working in the nursery a few weeks ago, I earned a free t-shirt.  A little one just able to walk was crying, not hard, just crying.  I went over to her to speak with her and see how I might comfort her.  She threw up all over me.  I don’t even flinch.  Both of my kids had reflux remember.  Spitting up and throwing up was a constant.  It all washes out.

Instead of turning a blind eye to the problems, instead of looming threats of CPS taking the kids away, why not educate parents.  They need resources.  Breastfeeding gets lots of publicity and there are lots of lactation support groups and consultants hired by hospitals to support you.  I’m an advocate and think it’s wonderful.  But what I’m suggesting, is can we learn something?

I kept seeing various feeds on Twitter and Facebook.  They were eye catching.  They were also all in England.  One asked for ambassadors.  I emailed.  During the course, we figured out they too are in England.  However, I have been invited into the group.  Their messages are simple and clear.  They are resources.  Free Your Mind gives those of us affected by child abuse a platform to tell our stories.  They have resources to help.  They have phone numbers and support groups, in England of course.  How many parents who are in crisis and overwhelmed can quickly think of a resource?  That’s the point.

Child abuse prevention month – such a simple act of preventing child abuse can eradicate a whole slew of problems for years to come.  I keep trying think, what can I do and keep thinking “I’m only one person.”  Yes, I am.  One person with many parts 😉  I have pieces, I have ideas.  I know others do to.  It’s not a problem to be solved by one person.  But it’s too important to be thought of as too much trouble so just forget it.

Posted by: undercoverdid | April 7, 2016

Insomnia & Trauma Frustrations

I don’t think it takes a genius to know that childhood sexual abuse is going to cause problems with sleeping.  It seems rather obvious right?  However, what does seem to take more intelligence is how to fix something such as insomnia.

The good news is there are doctors who are seeing the patterns.  Dr. Daniel Amen is a psychiatrist who has been studying SPECT scans and noticing patterns among patients of childhood abuse, veterans, and even athletes.  Nadine Burke Harris is a pediatrician  who has realized childhood abuse affects brain development and will affect them into adulthood.

The bad news is the doctor down the street doesn’t have all the information compiled, nor has the world of medicine advanced enough to make diagnosis easier.

The really bad news is we are talking brain damage and chemical imbalances.  Even if these can be properly put into perspective and diagnosed, medical science has not caught up to being able to treat them.

Pharmaceutical companies will have you believe if you take their little white pill, you will change over night.  Then you read in the fine print that results may take 6 weeks.  Then you read the finer print that lists out all the side effects that may or may not go away even after you stop taking the medication.  Then you have people who the medication may affect outside of expectations.  This can be positive or negative.  One neurologist prescribed me a blood pressure medication as a hail mary and it prevents most of my migraines.  Many years ago I was prescribed a medication that was an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety and it worked.  I went off of it and went back to it a few years later and it didn’t work for me, in fact I got severe side effects.  Also many years ago I had several doctors get their hands in the pot and each one prescribed me their cocktail and I got worse, so the next one took over and gave me a different set and I got worse.  This went round and round.  Eventually I stopped telling them how depressed I was despite being on three anti-depressants.  They didn’t believe me.  Then one day I heard a commercial on TV that stated a side effect of anti-depressants can be suicidal ideation.  BINGO!  Of course they still didn’t believe me.

I’m tired of going to doctors who say, “Oh you’re just going through what every mother goes through.  You just need some sleep.”  Yea, sure.  If I could, i would.  They toss me an Ambien and send me on my way.  Except Ambien rarely works.  Then if it happens to work, I get trapped into the cycle of I have to take it or I hit insomnia again.  So someone else gives me Ativan to slow down my thinking.  Sometimes it works, but rarely.  Again, something else to be addicted to.

So after a month without a decent night’s sleep, I’m slowing down.  I don’t feel well.  My pain levels are worse.  My irritation levels rise.  I make more mistakes and I forget many more things.  Yet, a visit to the doctor is the last thing I want to do.  I keep trying different things that have tried in the past.  It’s such a hit and miss kinda thing.

Posted by: undercoverdid | March 11, 2016

My story

It’s so amazingly difficult to sit down and write this.  I came across a program that could allow me to share my story and on some level I really want that, but on another level it terrifies me.  However, for that very reason, I’m determined.  I want to help get the word out and shine some light on this dark world and maybe just maybe, someone will benefit.

My story starts before I was born.  I was conceived within a multi-generational family of abuse.  It’s hard to say how many people were abused because the secrets were strictly held, until me.  My mother was abused by her father, as was her older sister most likely.  I was not wanted by my mother or grandmother, in fact, I was told an abortion was offered.  My mom had just turned 17 when I was born, in fact I was due on her 17th birthday.  My dad had just turned 19.  I believe I was my mom’s ticket out of abuse, it felt like she handed me to her father on a silver platter.

I believe the abuse started very young.  I experienced many things that helped keep me bound in secrecy.  My dad was an alcoholic and wasn’t thrilled about being married.  My mom having been abused herself, struggled greatly at being a mom.  At home there was lots of emotional and physical abuse.  My grandfather was the only one who comforted me.  However, there was a price to be paid for that love.  He’d tell me how special I was and how I was the only one.  He’d hold me, touch me, and make me touch him.  By the time I was 8 or 9 there was intercourse.  He’d have me sleep over and little did I know I was sleeping in my mom’s old room.  He’d come in, have sex and leave me to clean up.  Then I’d meet him in the sitting room and sit on his lap.  I was very confused.  I liked his attention, but I didn’t like the touching or the intercourse, but it was the price to be paid.  He had friends.  I’ll be honest, my memories are very broken.  I remember one of the friends well, enough so that I was able to figure out who it was.

My grandfather had lots of friends and there would be newspaper reporters coming out to do news stories on him and I’d end up in the pictures too.  It always amazed me how I knew something no one else ever saw.  He died when I was 10 and that’s probably what saved me in some ways.  When he died it was a confusing time for me.  I lost someone who I felt closer to than anyone.  At the same time, it was over.  Or so I thought.  It wasn’t until about two years later that I realized what he did was abuse and it was wrong.  This was the first time I knew it was wrong.  I wanted to tell someone, but I kept getting scared and chickened out.  My mom found out and she warned me not to tell, that it would only hurt the family, especially my grandmother.  She did tell me that day that he had abused her and probably her sister too.  A day of revelation and yet I felt more alone than ever.  I couldn’t understand how she couldn’t tell.

Years went by and my struggle didn’t get any easier.  I often found myself in situations that I didn’t remember getting into and having to find a way out.  I struggled in school, but most of the time that I came out ok on.  Socially I struggled.  I didn’t really have friends.  I felt like an outcast, like I didn’t belong.  I was deep in my own world.  I knew I had to get out of town, and college was my ticket.  Of course I go to college and during orientation week I put myself square into another abusive situation.  It was during these years I was finally given the name for what I was experiencing, multiple personality disorder.  Yes, I was originally diagnosed in 1995.  It’s now called Dissociative Identity Disorder.

I have struggled with my diagnosis.  I’ve gone through hardcore denial to having doctors who don’t believe it’s real and I have to be faking.  I have been diagnosed by several different doctors coast to coast.  Often, especially in the early years I’d go to a doctor and not tell them my diagnosis and they’d come back with the same one.  During my years of denial that was hard.  Over the years though, the denial has become less and the acceptance has brought about a new leaf.  Instead of losing “control” as much, we blend.  The blending helps transitions, headaches and memory.  It’s not a perfect system, but it’s much better than getting behind the wheel of a car and finding myself in a ditch a mile down the road.  True story.

I’m going through my second divorce and this time I have kids.  This marriage was abusive in many ways as well, especially emotionally and psychologically.  He knew of my history and diagnosis and chose to use it against me.  Thankfully I rose above and am once again healing and making a better life for me and my children.

Posted by: undercoverdid | March 7, 2016

Memory

Memory is a difficult subject for me.  I have few of them and the ones I have are more like reading a newspaper than experiencing an event.  I can watch a movie and watch it again a couple weeks later and it’s like I’ve never seen it before.  It’s frustrating to me.  When it comes to spending time with my kids, I often find myself consciously trying to connect and commit the events to memory.  Later, it feels as if I’ve failed.

I love my kids and on the surface it looks as if everything is normal.  I’ve tried surrounding us with pictures and little tokens of events and even started scrapbooking with them.  Little do they realize I do it more for me than them.  We went to Disney a couple years ago and the few memories I have of it are down to newsprint.  No emotion tied to it really.  I find myself wanting to create memories just to have them maybe.  This is all separate from how I am a mother, it’s more about on those days to sit and reminisce or days when I’m feeling down and I think in my mind about a happy moment, I don’t experience it.

I’ve very much an over analyzer.  I’ll admit my memory can be fun.  I can have the same experience over and over and it’s as if it’s the first time.  But I’ll admit there are times, I wish my memory was more accessible.  I hoped with the blending we do, that the memories would be more shared and this wouldn’t happen.  However, it seems my brain stores more in data mode than in movie mode.

So why today?  Why am I thinking about this today?  My oldest is going to be in a play at school.  I’m so proud of her for wanting to try something and just jumping right in!  Anyway, I’d kinda heard that because of copyrights we won’t be able to film it.  I kept thinking there’s no way this can be true.  My parents wanted to see her but because it’s during the week, there’s no way add to it they are hours away not minutes.  So today I confirmed no recording is allowed and no one will be able to record it even for us to buy.  This is really disappointing.  I understand they didn’t buy the rights to record it to save money.  What I don’t understand is why the people who sold this feel so adamant that I can’t record my child on stage.

I told her I’ll take some pictures of her and her friends or whatever before and after the show for her scrapbook.  It just honestly makes me sad.  When I asked someone they just made the simple comment of I’ll just have to remember it.  I don’t know what memories are like for most people, because I only know my own experience.  It just makes me sad to think my brain is only going to remember bits of data and be little more than a black and white typed report which even that will fade until one day someone mentions it and that report is found in pieces of a smoldering pile of memories.

Memories frustrate me so much.  They are literally reconstruction projects.  I’m having the same water heater issue I had two years ago.  However, I’m having to dig and dig to find connections and information I stored in various places to put the pieces back together.  Those are the mundane memories.  I’m trying very hard to live in the moment and soak up the memories all I can.

One thing that does give me hope though.  I had someone show me a piece of paper.  Later I needed to remember what it was they showed me.  I got frustrated and thought my memory is so bad, don’t I wish I had a photographic memory.  I slowed down and was able to pull some of the data from the image, enough to reconstruct.  So is it possible everything is being “recorded” I just need to learn to access it?  I hope.  But pictures and videos sure do make it easier to trigger those memories.  Not to mention it makes it harder to “fit in”.  I don’t have favorite memories, or quick recall of this or that.  It can make some conversations tedious and difficult making me feel left out.  Of course later the information comes back.  I need a faster processor or better indexing maybe 😉

Posted by: undercoverdid | March 5, 2016

Multiple Personality Day

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Today is Multiple Personality Disorder Day, while to say Happy MPD day doesn’t seem quite appropriate, I’d like to approach it as an acknowledgement and educational day. MPD aka DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) is often used as derogatory, confused with other disorders such as Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder, and when all else fails as a “cop out” for a reason to have done something wrong, like murder. I’m very unhappy with how the media portrays the disorder in general and that ends up spreading to the general populus. It almost always has its roots in severe childhood abuse that is so traumatic the human mind and the child mind that is more flexible than an adult’s does anything to survive. The absolute purpose of the disorder is to blend in and hide, not flaunt. It’s to keep the terrible secrets, not put on a show.

If you are special enough to know someone who has DID, remember it’s not easy for them to trust, and most likely they’ve told someone before who has betrayed their trust and used it against them. It’s not their fault and they are strong. They have been open with you, just be open back, ask questions.

And remember, we all have different facets to our personality – one is a parent, one is a child, one goes to work, one loves to play, etc. DID simply is more fragmented and more space between the facets – so memory, time, etc is different. And remember, they are like snowflakes, while they are made of the same ingredients, there isn’t an instruction book, the rules of the system were created in childhood so just because you know one person with DID doesn’t mean you know them all so always be respectful of each system and don’t assume they are the same as another you have met.

Yes, I enjoy studying psychology – and have been waiting for a couple weeks to be able to post this! I found it on an obscure holiday calendar application.

Posted by: undercoverdid | January 25, 2016

Happy 6th WordPress Anniversary

Happy Anniversary with WordPress.com!
You registered on WordPress.com 6 years ago!
Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging!
Wow, 6 years.  I guess it has been 6 years.  Seems longer – seems like SO much has happened in those 6 years.  I remember the circumstances that lead to me getting an account.  I couldn’t discuss the reasons for fear he’d find the account.  I have come a long way in 6 years.  It was a dark time, things were really bad in the marriage.  I started the blog to give me some sort of outlet.
This is post #152.  I haven’t decided yet what direction I want to take with the blog.  I feel I have many directions I can go, so many I want to go.
I appreciate all the feedback and support – as the lyrics in the theme song of Unites States of Tara says, “I know we’ll be just fine when we learn to love the ride.”  I’m still working on that part, but I am closer than I was 6 years ago…
Posted by: undercoverdid | January 24, 2016

I. Am. Strong

even when i don’t want to be.

Unlike computers, life has no “undo” button.  Today has been a day of perspective.  You know those days, when it rains it pours.  Days where half my brain says, “Let’s just crawl into a hole” and the other half says, “We’re like a damn cat, always land on our feet.”  I was tired, I was beat and I logged off for the day.  But my brain apparently isn’t done.  Writing sometimes helps.

No matter how many times I describe my soon to be ex, (actually both of them) I can’t help but wonder what the heck I was thinking.  My kids and I were watching “Once Upon a Time” on Netflix, Season 4.  To keep from any spoilers in case someone else like me is trying to play catch-up I’ll be simple in my reference.  One of the characters comments, “It’s like every decision I make seems right but it’s wrong.”

I have to remember, like this character, my biology and my environment had a different fate in mind for me.

Pitbull has a song, probably obscure but it gets lots of play time from me called Castle Made of Sand where he says,

“If you know where I come from, know what I’ve been through
You think there should have been another outcome”

I’m not alone in this.  I know that.  But there are days where I feel very alone and I get mad that I have to fight.  See writing does help.  I’m remembering why I have to do this.  It’s not even just for my kids.  Though they are always the first reason that come to mind.  It’s deeper than that.  All I have to do is look at my mother and her family.  I can’t live like that.  It has nothing to do with anything on the surface, it’s everything to do with their hearts.  The ghosts that haunt them or what they have had to do to harden themselves so they no longer hear the ghosts of the past.

They are the definition of weakness.  They do not understand the pain they have caused either by their hands or their silence.  They cannot look at me, they cannot speak to me.  They know I know the truth and they know I am not silent.

I am strong even when I don’t want to be.  Within 24 hours, I’ve learned my kids will probably have to attend a wake (not with me) and I will be faced with the fact that I cannot protect them, only be here when they return (uncle in-law) so no one close, but it’s the process and the exposure and the lack of empathy and the narcissistic tendencies of the people involved that concern me.  I found out a close friend who lives on the opposite coast suffered a TIA last week and I had no way of knowing until the friend returned home and contacted me.  And then a third thing.  By the time the third thing struck I just wanted to scream, “Why can’t life just be easy?”  I shed tears.  I went on with my day.  But I shed tears.

The tears are significant for many reasons.  They are growth.  They are a sign of my weaknesses, my fears, and my frustrations.  They prove I am strong.  They prove I am still able to fight this battle against my biology and my environment.  As frustrating as it is, this battle won’t be won once and for all.  Each tear I shed, each stand I make, each step I take towards making better decisions for me and my kids is one step further away I am from all that I once knew.

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