Okay......so I live on the second floor of a luxury apartment. We have a swimming pool, which we used yesterday and oldest boy got fried. Burnt, boiled, cooked: frankly he looked like a lobster. I, being the mostly Irish part of the gene pool knew what sunburn is all about. Husband and younger son look like ice cream sandwiches when sans clothing. That's the Choctaw half. Nope, older boy decided he was going to fry, even his poor eyes were red. Dad didn't quite know what to do, so the Irish half, who spent most of my life hiding from the sun (and still manage to get sun burnt!) popped said boy into a cool bath, gave him an antihistamine, and laid him down under a fan while still wet. He said I was a great mom, knew just what to do, thanks mom, love you.......and then barfed all over me. Not once, but three times. Wow!!! He says he really feels better now!! Back to the land of the living, and I'm in the shower. Amazingly, I caught it all...... 

And that was yesterday. 

So, here I am sitting on my balcony, and all I really want to do is lay on the couch ALL DAY and not see PS3. Won't happen.....but maybe I can demand a little mommy-time on the tele for a "boring documentary". I did so yesterday, and the boys stared as if their brains were melting through a documentary with Carl Sagan. Okay....I admit, he's a little dry. 

I find it interesting that because of where I live (next to the apartment complex garage) I feel like James Stewart in Hitchcock's "Rear Window". I see the same couple leave every morning, who apparently manage a Korean store of some sort, as they always bring home a bag of groceries with the label in Korean, and leave Korean newspapers by the trashcan. (No one puts the trash in the can, as there is an odd sign that says "Do not put trash in here".) Every morning, the male half of the Korean equation walks around the car analyzing it for any dings or scratches, and the female half waits to go to work. They won't be back until late tonight, but either way they  march to their car or home like they've been trained to do the goosestep. Interesting people, they never smile, never talk to each other, and never divert from their schedule. 

Then there's the guy who wears a visor all the time, has scraggly hair, is overweight from too much beer, tanned as can be, and usually sits by the pool. That's his schedule....sometimes he must go to work, but I never see it. 

There's the 22 year old ex-Social Worker who is now a pre-school teacher and her boyfriend who has TBI. His High School experience was cut short by a friend who was drinking. He was the passenger, but yeah! he is starting to learn to stand. 

The husband who always hid on the balcony from his wife.....who now lives without wife, and smiles much more. She took the dog. 

The lady who has the yellow lab, who has no social skills (dog not woman), who unfortunately was the casualty of divorce. What do I know? Maybe she's happy about it......but she lives for ice cream sundaes and take out food. Every day, every trip back and forth. Her kids visit on weekends. She just bought a folding table to eat at. 

The kids are the most interesting, every weekend, the same astounding amount of kids come in to visit and leave late Sunday night. Sunday is the worst day at the pool, as everyone is trying to squeeze the last few hours out of the weekend. Most are drunk, and very friendly......it's Texas.....since there is always a woman (or two) who have their hair perfectly coiffed and fully clothed, makeup AND loads of jewelry. They simply dangle their pedicured toes in the shallow end of the water, and I have no idea how they keep from melting. But talk to them: and you've got the southern drawl hanging as heavy as their perfume. 

There's the two apartments with new babies too.......I never see the mothers or the babies, but the grandparents constantly visit bearing gifts. Decked to the nines, and Grandpa usually has to remove his Doctor's coat.....here they come, with bags of goodies, and often times food. 

The single gentleman who has a preened to the hilt yellow Cocker Spaniel.......the dog actually wears a rain coat and little booties if the weather is bad. I swear my dog must laugh at him as he passes by. He simply will NOT go out in the rain, won't cross the threshold, and that's all he has to say on the matter. 

I wish I could say that I'm more like Grace Kelly in this scenario, all decked out beautifully and speaking with perfect allure. But no.....I'm Jimmy Stewart, and I can probably tell you about everyone in my corner of the world. If Grace Kelly was here, she'd agree that I need to stop watching from my balcony. 

All I can say is that I've realized that most people don't have a perfectly smarmy life. The people who drive too fast have each found at least one steel pole in the parking garage. Most people look like their dogs, and that's an entirely different subject altogether. In TX, if you don't pay your rent, some people come from the "outside" and put all of your belongings into trash bags, and set them next to the can that says "Don't put trash in here." Most people are never home as they are at work, and the other half are asleep as they work for the medical community and usually work nights. It's a regular rotation that I've come to know, and find strangely reassuring. 

It's Texas......Dallas, TX......and a completely different planet from WA or UT. 



Shelly 

Well, Friday finally arrived. It always does....but in some small way it feels like a major accomplishment to make it to the end of the week. I haven't written for a few days, just took some time off; and had quite a few emails to address directly. The boys are being hit with either a cold or allergies, so they've been a bundle of fun......but still: really awesome young people who are growing so rapidly. 

I had my therapist appointment yesterday......I find it amazing that after so many of my insiders stood guard and had to check her out thoroughly that I actually attend therapy now and can be present for the entire session. We had an interesting discussion as to schizophrenia and DID, it's related symptoms, and again: how does a psychiatrist determine one diagnosis over the other? I mean: they both "hear voices" (we all know the standard answer: voices inside versus voices outside), flashbacks could be interpreted differently as hallucinations, etc. She said in all the years she has worked with DID, that she has learned to sit back and listen for quite a while. A client with DID will always come back to a main subject, or stay focused, where with schizophrenia the subject can be obsessive or all over the place. Hmmmm, I think I've been like that a few times. Nope, she replied, I'm too clear, lucid, and have a definite change within my insider states. Still, they all come back to the same linear thought. She has had a few clients were thought they were DID, but instead had transient hallucinations, so they weren't schizophrenic either.

And when I think about it, schizophrenia is certainly not like this. I know what schizophrenia is like.....and there's the kicker. Until I finished reading "Stalking the Irish Madness", and conducted some research for my second book, I never truly looked at the impact that schizophrenia has had in my life. I was trying to explain to the therapist: it took years to recognize the "in your face" dangers, incoherent thoughts, and violence of living in an abusive home environment, but I never really considered the schizophrenic portion. I never felt or even contemplated the role this disease has had in my life. 

Strange, one would think that being 40, and diagnosed with DID for almost 20 years, I would have considered this subject at some point. Nope, it was always a second subject, not important, something that was as easily overlooked as the parsley they stick on the side of your dinner. You know it's there, you almost expect it to be there, and sometimes you have even tasted it. BUT, it's not part of the dinner. Not technically.....I mean, if someone asked you what you ate at the restaurant last night, you wouldn't mention the parsley now would you? That's how schizophrenia has always been in my mind. A side issue.....yes, I've had to include it when I talk about my family of birth, as I've learned that to leave it out confuses therapists and anyone who is listening. After all: the television talked to mom and she was "god's emissary". But, in my mind: brother, uncle and mother were abusive.......oh, and they had schizophrenia. 

Even my son's diagnosis of schizophrenia made me wonder at the way the psychiatrist wanted to "prepare" me for the news. News? I saw the signs......and when he was violent, yeah, it was hard. He has schizophrenia, I get it, I know a lot about it. But do I really? 

It's odd that this subject has come up, while the therapist and I are working on "how I feel"....since I have become so disconnected in many ways to the emotions naturally felt by human beings. They are compartmentalized, within each of my insiders, and for daily functioning, this system works. Yet, the emotions still exist, they are just individually wrapped up like glasses prepared for packing. I have to unravel quite a few things in my head before I can even recognize what is tucked away and hidden. Then, unfortunately, it feels like a punch to the stomach. 

So, I'm sitting in my session, discussing the studies that claim the Irish have a higher incidence of schizophrenia running through their genetic makeup than other societies, and whether this was due to nature or nurture....all sorts of hypothesis on the subject....when it hits me: I've never really looked at the impact schizophrenia has had in my life. 

I never had a mother. I had a "mom", and she was schizophrenic. So: what did I have? I was raised by schizophrenia with manic phases (or bi-polar), auditory and visual hallucinations and religious compellations. My brother had schizophrenia from such a young age, he was never a brother, he was simply "Richard".......which, in a way, was not his name but a description of all that he represented. The boy child and the schizophrenia combined. The same with my uncle, and grandmother. They were almost non-people, as they never existed as individuals in the first place. When I interacted with them, I interacted with the schizophrenia first, for the person was buried somewhere deep inside: unmedicated, and on the outside: raving. I don't think I ever have met them as people, individuals, real humans; as I always interacted with the schizophrenia. 

It hit me first hand later that day, as my son told me that: 1) he no longer has schizophrenia 2) he no longer needs his medicine 3) I made it all up, he never heard any voices and he's angry that I told the doctor what "they said" and 4) could I take him to the bathroom as there is a huge bird in there with wings that says he will pounce and scratch his eyes out if I'm not along? I asked if he saw the bird? "NO, I don't see things anymore, you made that up." Okay........so how do you know there is a bird in there? Oh....he knows, and further will describe even more about the bird (which is rather terrifying to say the least). Well, did he say he was going to pluck your eyes out? "NO, I don't hear things anymore......but he said he'd do it." Alright, at this point, let's just get to the bathroom. "Thanks mom, you're the best". Uh huh......so glad you're on medication, and no, you're not coming off of the medicine if I have anything to say about it. 

You know the parsley that sits on the edge of the plate? Every once in a while I would take a bite of it......and generally it would be bitter as can be. Harsh and twiggy, without the enjoyable flavor of the bitterness that a dish of collard greens conveys, but simply torture to endure. I've always suspected that restaurants simply wash the same sprig and reuse it over and over since no one seems to eat the parsley. Perhaps, like me they tried it and realized it's not part of the dinner. 

And whether I like it or not, I have to admit that the "parsley" was there all along. It impacted me, and I have to acknowledge it. The big family secret that was not to be talked about in public or even at home. We had all sorts of cover excuses: Mom was in a car accident and incurred whiplash, so her "neck was out". Richard was "uncomfortable" around people because he couldn't hear when he was young. Uncle "drank" and was "deaf", that's why he was the way he was. Then the subcategories of cover up stories, let alone the outright denial and clean up of events so no one would know. 

I question: who decided that these events should be covered up? I don't remember a family meeting to determine if we were to all participate in hiding what was obviously an elephant, several really, in the room? I remember reading about one member of the family being considered the family "secret keeper" years later, and recognized myself, Obviously, I was that person....but I don't remember volunteering. When was all this decided? Who laid the foundation of secrecy? I have no answers....it just was how things were to be done. 

Sadly, it appears that many people have treated mental illness this way. Hide it, cover it up, and find another reason to explain the events you cannot prevent from becoming public. This attitude goes back generations, and still continues today. As far as my stand: I will not keep it a secret, something to be ashamed of and hidden away. I know, and I know far too well how much damage this course of action creates. 

So: Aramis is "fine". Hmmmm, glad he's feeling better. Also made an appointment as apparently we still live with monsters, they may not talk to him (really?) and he may not see them (again: really?) but they are a part of our lives just as much as that twig of parsley is present next to a delicious steak dinner. 

It's only when you look that you see it. 
It's only when you taste it that the reality becomes clear. 

Well, those are my "linear thoughts" for the day. Honestly, it makes me laugh to be considered able to do so. What did the therapist say? Oh, I'm also "sophisticated and highly intellectual".....still makes me giggle......I told her that's high praise for a girl who came from pure white trash. Her reply? "And someone who was taken out of school in the sixth grade". Oh yeah.......so I could take care of the problems at home, which didn't exist in the first place whenever anyone asked. 

Looks like another hot day today in TX......husband will be home early, and the boys have a play date with a co-worker and his PS3. Ahhhh, I'll have quiet for several hours later today. Better be off to get some homework done then.........if you listen carefully, you just might hear the wails from two boys in TX when they realize that they still have school today. 

Have a good one, and please: stay safe. From the emails I've received, several are really struggling. Stay safe, take care of yourselves, and surround yourselves with positive support. May we each find a bit o'peace today. 



Shelly

So, it's Monday.....no big deal right? Well one boy thinks every bone in his body is hurting, so he can't "do" school, and the other says he's sick, so he can't "do" school either, BUT might be well enough to go swimming later. Ahhhh, there's the clue. 

Really? Do I look like this will work? When has it ever? Sorry dudes, but if you're too sick for homework, then you can climb back into bed. I have a funny feeling I'm going to be tested today on this. Bed is torture for them both, especially if it's a "nap" and not a "lay down for a bit". Darn, Dante learned to tell time, so I can't give time limits anymore. He just lays there playing with his feet in the air until the time finally clicks by. So, we'll see, it'll either be a day of testing, which in that case, I have some crochet to finish....or it can go swimmingly. 

I'm having flashbacks again....something the new therapist and I are working on. It's the second book, I know it is, but it's also a real pain. I can almost feel as if all these people from the past are back in my life sometimes......but on a cognitive level I know they are not. Still, it's strange to be standing there, and I could swear that so-in-so is right next to me, and it's no longer 2012. 

The therapist says to not simply think "what year is it?", but to acknowledge all the emotions connected with that person or event. Connect with the body, and recognize each sensation. It's only through this practice that one can move past flashbacks and into memory. It releases the trauma connected with each event.....and, is very tiring. Makes for better writing, but right now that's not the goal. I just want them to climb back into the cave they came from. That would be nice.....

But, on the other hand, it's been eye opening to me how many people I know who are going through some really rough times. Just looking around my section of apartments, I can see some whose wives have left, taking the children with them, others who have lost jobs and are moving, others who have recently had serious injuries.....the list goes on. Sometimes it's so easy to get caught in the land of DID, that I forget that the world in general has problems too.

Husband and I have our Monday night date planned, so I'm looking forward to this evening. Let's hope the boys manage to survive home school, and all goes well. I'm not beyond shutting down PS3 until we adjust our attitudes regarding homework. It's really not that bad, in fact, is easily done when the spirit is willing. Ahhh, there's the ticker, and my constant chant: "Is it attitude or ability?" 

And that applies to more than just home schooling.....it really applies to life. Am I able to do this thing, or is my attitude towards: (pick one) taking care of myself, facing my fears, addressing my responsibilities, not assuming responsibility for someone else, etc. hindering my ability to succeed? So simple, and yet it's only when the situation (no matter what it is) is broken down into two small components that the entire picture becomes clear. WE can be our own strongest barrier. Attitude versus Ability. That's really the whole kit and kaboodle in a nutshell.

Well, the service dog, who has learned to be quiet, has discovered that large men are moving large objects out of an apartment and need to be watched, growled at and checked regularly. He's the first one going to bed today. Wonder if the boys will be on their way to bed too? 

I suspect growing pains (literally) with the older boy, as he is doing what my side of the family does. Grows wide, then tall, then wide, then tall,......he's hitting the "grow tall" point right now. When I keep it in perspective, that's a lot of growing to do in order to change from a wee child to the Oak Door that their Dad is. My family just does it quick......and I remember, it does make the joints ache. 

Still, he has announced that he wants 7 (yeup, SEVEN) children, and is already trying to figure out how soon he needs to go to work, so that he can provide for all 7 and a wife, and himself. He makes me laugh, as last night he asked candidly: "Do you have the kids first or the wedding?" Hmmmmm, well that depends on your belief structure. Let me explain........

And that was 11pm....he couldn't sleep until he figured it out. Why don't you get your homework done first instead? He still thinks girls are gross, so how he figures he's going to have 7 kids I'm not sure. 

BUT if you're going to manage to work as hard as Dad (which he referenced) then you will have to learn to work through the pain, whatever it is. 

Attitude versus Ability.....there, it strikes again. Yes, sometimes we are unable to do something, but in general, check and see if it's really an attitude problem. 


That's all for today.....a balmy, overcast day here in TX. We find out today or tomorrow if it's Manhattan for us, or goodness only knows where.........



Take care of yourselves everyone......and stay safe.

 


Shelly 

I love Sunday's...I have finally learned to nap guilt free, and Sunday is all out, full permission to be lazy. Even the boys are lazy, and that's quite alright. Monday will come soon enough, and we'll be back to our usual schedule. 

I just can't get into their video games.......I sit there, and then am bored beyond belief. You would think that at least one part of me would find them interesting, but nope.....no one is even intrigued to say the least. 

We took the boys fishing last night for catfish.....which meant we fed a lot of bait to the unseen. Aramis did great with his meds so late at night (for him), we ended up watching a water moccasin swim past (ewww, they are everywhere!) and for the first time we all were able to see fire flies! I think everyone inside was as delighted as everyone outside. They look like fairies.......Dad made their disappointed evening a success by stopping off at Sonic at 9:30pm (yeah Dad!!!). I actually ate some onion rings, which really means that I shared a small order with the three guys. 

I'm reading a (so far) fascinating book I saw while browsing at our local library. It's called: "Stalking the Irish Madness" by Patrick Tracey. Several generations of his family have suffered from schizophrenia, and after losing his way through drugs and alcohol (the strain and familial damage is far reaching) he finds sobriety, and begins to research more into what is know regarding his family history. I'm only half way through, but the studies he refers to intrigued me as much as they did him. Statistically, and it's been proven over and over with a multitude of studies as well as statistics related to schizophrenia, that the Irish have a higher likelihood of developing the disorder. 

Right now, he's stuck at "why", and the connection of Irish lore to symptoms that are similar if not spot on to schizophrenia. Of course fairies were to blame, which made me think a bit when I was watching the fire files last night. It would be very easy to find connections with nature if, as a society you are living in a closed, rather oppressed state and are seeking answers. 

Aramis is doing better, he's actually finding a sense of humor and handling things much better. He woke me up the other night (one of countless times I am waken at night for some reason or another) and I called him by his brother's name. That normally would have set him off for days, but instead he laughed it off. He woke me early this morning with "ARAMIS" written on his hand and a great big hug. Now, that's progress. 

Although, last night he saw the two red eyeballs again. Okay, we kept on walking to our fishing spot, but he had to make sure that we realized that "they" were there.....I finally whispered to Dad that if he doesn't say something in addition to my response, this will go on all night. So, we both agreed that "darn! those eyeballs are over there at that house! Well, it's a good thing we're walking to the other end of the lake." What else can you say? He sees them, we don't. That's it in a nutshell. 

At least the voices aren't nearly so bad, but he's starting to catch on that we don't hear "them", so like many with schizophrenia, he's decided that to talk about it just makes him seem "weird". That's his big worry now....being discovered. Ahhhh, the shame runs in every area of mental illness/disorders does it not? If I could take one thing away, it would be the shame. It simply adds an additional burden to an individual who has enough to manage anyway.

As someone who was raised by an individual with schizophrenia, as well as extended family members, this book is interesting from that perspective alone. He writes very well about his feelings, his anger, his confusion, and the constant questions of a bright mind in search of logical answers. Meanwhile, watching other family members react in their own ways......I can relate, and yet, find his writing quite validating. I don't know why I never thought to read regarding someone else's experiences......I just happened upon the book, and snagged it quickly as the boys were calling to me. However, there are so many similarities, and the mixture of his emotions, and subsequent interactions with others are things that I can relate to. 

His generations encompassed the years of seclusion in mental wards, so he provides a different perspective in the area of history, but as he enters the 70's and his sisters begin to display two different forms of schizophrenia, he's now caught in our era. The law says you can't put someone "away" unless they are harming someone else or themselves. Yet, with schizophrenia, that's like a shoe that drops when you least expect  it. 

No wonder my reaction with DID is to constantly be on watch, to be on guard for changes in the people around me. I watch the body language constantly, even of my therapist, the person who may stand behind me in line, the clerk at the counter, my husbands work mates. The sad thing is that generally I'm right......I can tell quick as a wink, there is something going on. It may take a few hours or a few days, but I usually find out that: yes, that person is struggling with something, or is having difficulties and is barely keeping the anger below the surface. It's my constant way of life, and what I've learned. Of course.......and I had no idea how much the schizophrenia played into it. 

Well, today is our "sleepy Sunday", and other than preparing for school this next week, everything important has been completed today. Ahhh, not too hot yet, and a day to relax. I'm finally accepting that it's "okay" to simply nap and hang out on Sundays......without guilt. After all, Monday is just around the corner, so I'd better appreciate the easy going attitude that Sunday brings to our home. 


All my best wishes for peace today.....


And Anna, please write.......we're worried about you.
 

Hang in there everyone, and try to give yourself some quiet time today.
 


Shelly

I like Fridays.....Thursday was a good day, and no, I didn't lose it.....I just was busy the entire day so didn't have any energy left to write. 

I did have my T appointment, which was very productive and brought forward a lot of new thoughts. I really just needed to sit down last night and think these over. Really great thoughts, and ones that leave you thinking about them for a long time afterwards. Honestly, I didn't think I'd connect with this therapist, but she has the training and background that suits my requirements, and was highly recommended. It just took some time for my protective insiders to "check her out" and let me actually attend the sessions. She (the therapist) was rather nonplussed about the whole process, and just gave a "been here, done this" look the whole time. Me? I was more than little peeved to be paying for sessions I was not attending. But, it worked out as usual. 

The therapist pointed out a few things that I had neglected to realize (and why seeing a therapist regularly is a really great idea). For instance: I had put cold chicken into a skillet with hot oil. I was slightly aware that when it splashed, I ended up with a burn on the edge of my lip. Ouch....but not bad, so I went on preparing dinner. It wasn't until the next day, that I looked in the mirror and saw that as I was wearing a tank top, my entire chest had been badly burned. No clue.....didn't even connect that I was injured, until I "saw" all the blisters. I wasn't just burnt, I had burned badly. Oooops........my therapist cringes just at the appearance of them now....shoot, they're healing. And why the cringe? It didn't hurt. 

Then I wonder why I'm having multiple  flashbacks....one right after another, the what I call: "rolling kind".....okay, so my regular dose of Klonopin will take care of these, but I'm so tired afterwards from the medication. Hmmmmm, my therapist is still looking at me. Nothing to say? Okay, I'll continue.......

I mention that it's strange: I can look in the mirror and put makeup on, do my hair, what have you....but I don't recognize who is in the mirror, and have simply learned to stop caring about it. Every day, for my entire life, I don't recognize who is in the mirror. I hate having pictures taken, as people will say: "That's a great picture of you!!" and for all intents and purposes, it might as well be a picture off of a magazine. I don't "know" or recognize that person. I hate picture taking.....it feels as blank as looking in a mirror. Hmmmmm, my therapist is still looking at me, but I see the spark of thoughts starting to brew. She'll say something when she's ready. 

I tell her about the whole water/mess scenario in our apartment, and how once I speak Spanish, I can't switch back to English...which makes me wonder how many times I switch and don't realize it? As obviously at some point in time I finally got out of the insider land of Spanish, and returned to English. But still, without even realizing it, I'm talking to the boys in Spanish at the local McD's.....they adjust, or will simply ask: "What are you saying?" Okay, so they will end up tri-lingual as the same thing happens when I switch to signing. 

I also mentioned that at one of the forums I participate in, many of my DID peers refer to their "littles" or young insiders coming out at WalMart, or in public.Frankly, (I told the therapist), she would have to meet with me for at least a year before I'd let them out. I don't know her well enough, even husband had to wait years before he even saw glimpses of the young ones. That's why they are locked away.....the world is not safe, so they are exactly where they need to be. It takes a long term therapist for me to be comfortable with letting them out, and with so many protective "bigs" in my system, I'm not the only one holding them back. They have thoughts, they talk, but no: you're not getting near them. 

Geesh, I've been tired this week......and that's when the therapist finally responds. She actually makes me laugh, she sits there all tidy with perfect posture, just listening. Then she'll adjust her seat, usually move her jacket a little, and will reply. Okay, kind of have her figured out now. 

She asked me about the cutting?  Do I "feel" the body then? Well, yes, but only once it starts to bleed, and then the rush of finally feeling something. Husband is disgusted by it, just as he reacted to the burn and she did too....but I don't feel anything so it's "no big deal" to me. I wonder why there's such a strong difference in opinions? She asked if I can taste food? Nope.....food reminds me of mom, and if I allow the thoughts to go there, then I get sick. So, food is on the "have to" list, and I just try to get it done, at least once daily, something has to go into my stomach. Better make it healthy, because this is not an enjoyable experience. She asked what can I "feel"? 

Well, I've been practicing, and I can now feel the warmth of the sun on my legs, or arms, and it's wonderful. I can feel the warmth of a bath, and the sensation of floating, which is very relaxing. BUT, that's required a lot of time and patience to achieve. My body is simply a shell that holds all of us....but we're in the head. 

That's when she reminds me that to separate from the body was a very effective survival action, one that kept the overwhelming physical abuse at a level of tolerance. Almost defiant in a way: "You can do what you want, but I don't feel it." The same thing with not recognizing myself in the mirror, (she mentions on the side that it's very common with DID).....I have found a way to completely detach from the physical person, and live within the safety of the mind. True......I knew this, but didn't really "see" how much it pervaded my own life. 

But, she reminds me that I "am no longer in danger.....so why the continuation of this protective measure?" No kidding.....and a very good point. Integration is not always about the insiders connecting and merging, but can also be about the body finally becoming connected to the mind. 

It's then I realize that one of the flashbacks that kept hitting me was when I was about 5 and I ended up being burnt on the chest with scalding water. Mom was absent, and I made a large can of spinach for dinner. It was all I could find, and would feed the boys and I. But, I lifted the pan off the stove and tried to step down from the stool I had made with an old milk crate, and all the water of course rolled right out and onto me. I knew enough to get my shirt off, but the rest is a blur. I had already figured out how to separate the mind from the body. 

My therapist reminded me that flashbacks will continue, until you can accept them completely, and that means all the bodily memories as well. To be numb in one area blocks acceptance, and until one can process the entire flashback, it will continue to come. It's an infection, an old wound that is begging to be treated. I've already realized that to not address these old wounds leads to a gangrene of the soul, and a very dangerous place to be. 

And then the "ah ha" moment hits.....why I've been so tired. That's a lot of switching and fighting flashbacks for one week. Several other events had happened over the week as well, dealing with my family of birth (yeah, they climbed out of the woodwork), and now that my book has been released, I receive letters from people with many questions, some of them triggering. She reminded me of boundaries, and why I'm not in Social Work anymore. Yeup, got that answer down, but it doesn't change the fact that I wish I could save the world.....

or save my "little" brothers. Well, can't go back and undo that part of history. But, I can work on today. For almost 30 years I tolerated and survived, and when the therapist and I discussed this it became apparent to me that it will take a long time to undo a practiced way of existing. I'm strong, that I know, and I can do it. But, it's going to take lots of little steps, still, as it took many, many events to create the person I am today. 

So, those are my thoughts for the day. See? I told you that yesterday's session was the type that keeps you thinking and making connections long after the session is officially completed. 

The boys are doing great......Aramis just gets "bad feelings" now in the evening. They almost seem residual in nature, like the old delusions are still in his memory bank, so as night falls he begins to recall them. Last night is was again: "how long are you going to live?", and "will something bad happen?". Well, deary, I'm 40 and still have a long way to go. Oooops, he thought I was 20, so for a few minutes that answer definitely didn't work, as I aged quite a bit in his mind. (Actually the look on both the boys faces was one to cherish.....they honestly thought I was 20.......some people need to review math for certain!) I had to remind him that 40 is NOT nearly dead. There is still plenty of time. Next question? "Will I be picked on when I'm grown up?" Hmmmm, where'd that one come from? I don't think so buddy, you've got your family around you, and you're a wonderfully generous person. (On top of that you're built like a tank......if you continue to take after Dad , I don't think anyone is going to "pick on you"...but for now, let's not add any more ideas to the already worried state.) 

Dante found four new pimples yesterday.....yeup, you're becoming a teenager. He was mortified, but frankly, they're small and nothing like he may see in the future. Right now? I'd like to quickly pass through the phase of forgetfulness. It seems like every teenager I've worked with has entered the same phase. One day, they know that the lid goes on the milk carton, and it is promptly returned to the refrigerator. The next? Goodness knows how long the milk will sit there....and with a reminder, the milk will be in the fridge, but the cap is still on the counter. I know it will pass......and I'll keep gently reminding. There's no reason to criticize.....after all, he's just now entering the teens. He will eventually get his head back in place, but until then: a lot is happening to that body of his. 

He actually asked me last night: "What if the girl I want to marry doesn't want to do any housework at all or work outside at a job? If I like her, I should just say okay and do both jobs huh?" Uh, no honey.....run, and run fast. No one is cute enough to get by with that much laziness. 

One thing is for certain: my home is filled with interesting questions from all corners. Some actually make me laugh in private.......no darling, don't marry anyone who expects you to do all the work. But remember, he also says that: girls are gross, and he's not getting married. What can I say? It's the pre-teens. 


Have a wonderful Friday everyone.....we're hitting 92 degrees today!!!!
 

"Yeeehaaaaw" from Texas......


Shelly

Today is one of those days where I want to climb back under the covers and not come out. Coffee's on board, but not working. Frankly, the only alert one in the family right now is the dog......he's on "bird feeder" and "dropped food" duty. The boys are (said with love) space cadets today as well, so the dog is really attentive to their forgotten plates on the table. Too bad he's so short, he can only pop up and down like he's riding a pogo stick. Must be very sad to only get glimpses of the food you can't reach. At least he can impact the birds, to a small degree, as they just come back when he's not looking. 

I think it's from all the wet carpet mess......as we all seem congested and achy. Either that, or we're fighting a cold. But the Scorcers Apprentice scenario really did bring out a lot of mold, so no one feels at their tippy top best right now. Forget school work, I've already been informed they are "too sick" to do work. Considering how they are laying like limp washcloths, I believe them. 

I know what will work for me: throw open those blinds, and clean the remaining mold off the walls. Get the place (now that's it dry AGAIN) back to normal, and then face a new day tomorrow. The boys? Well, give them some more allergy medicine, and keep them hydrated. They'll get baths and all that good stuff, which should help clear the achy-ness. 

Older boy is desperate to play a game of chess.....I used to enjoy playing it with him, but now I lose all the time. That stinks.....no one should lose repeatedly to a 9 year old. Hey? Can that count as "school"? Nah....but they can catch up on the weekend. 

Aramis actually went to bed early last night, after worrying about everything under the sun. "Are we going to starve?" No, the house is full of food. "Is someone going to kill us?" No.....we're safe. "Are you going to die?" No......not today. (Don't go there.....it would last all night if I even mentioned that someday I'll die.) "How old can people live?" My grandmother was 103. "But what about THEM"? Well, they are to stay in the corner....doctor said so. "Where's my Foo Foo? (his stuffed animal).....oh good, I thought THEY got his eyeballs. He still has two." Great....now let's go to sleep. "But I'm afraid". Well, you won't be after you go to sleep. "Will you holded me?" Yeup, as it seems to keep THEM in the corner. He was asleep in a few minutes, and then spent all night stealing the blankets. I got punched once, woah, that's a new one, will definitely have to watch for that in the future. 

I swear, if I didn't have to be on Mommy duty today, I'd climb back into bed and not come out until an hour before everyone is due home. Even my head feels achy.....but alas.....someone has to be responsible. Any volunteers from the land of the inside? Nope? Looks like it's me then. 

Which has me thinking: there are threads a mile long at several DID forums about tiredness.... whether it comes from the DID or the medications, or both? Doctors and psychiatrist will tell you it comes from both, but to never underestimate the amount of tiredness that results from just functioning within the realms of DID. Great.....guess it's better than hypo-mania. Too many DID'ers have to deal with tiredness for it not to be a legitimate component of the disorder. I can usually get myself up and going, but not happening today. 

I've had these occasions before, and I'll be the first to chant the "self care is important" theme song for DID....but to actually follow through is a completely different reality. Obviously my system wants to rest, and I feel guilty if I do so. Guilt.....another component that appears to be a constant thread running through DID. "If I'm not perfect, then I'm bad, and I should feel guilty that I'm bad, because I'm not perfect." That makes no sense whatsoever, other than it's an old message from a really messed up place that existed a long time ago. 

And there's the kicker: that many of the self sabotaging thought processes are in reality messages we received a long time ago. We heard them so often, that they became a part of our belief systems, our very foundation of standards, codes and values. It must be acknowledged that for many of us, our family of origin had a lot more time ingraining these beliefs into our psyches than we have had time to detach from such a twisted sense of reality. 

So, there's my thought for the day: give it time. And if that means crawling back under the covers, then so be it. Tomorrow is a new day, and it's just waiting to be embraced. 

For me, I'll tidy the house, kill some mold, take care of the kids, and then find that comforter. Oh.....can't forget to lose again at Chess.....but after these relatively easy things are taken care of, tomorrow can be as productive and active as I want it to be. 

For now: I'm outvoted, since the majority in the system know quite well where the comforter is. 


Have a good day everyone......and of course: remember to take care of yourselves. 



Shelly

Yesterday was a blur.....carpet and toilet guys in our apartment right and left. As they spoke Spanish, and only one of my insiders speak Spanish, I kept switching. Once I'm in the land of sign language or Spanish, it's tough to switch back....poor kids, they are going to learn both these languages no matter what it seems. Even when husband came home, I found that to tell him about the day, I switched to Spanish. Dang it....I wish there wasn't a division between the two. 

So, the boys asked if they could stay up last night to watch one of the squeaky Chipmunk movies....alright, sounds good. Dad goes to bed, as he ran errands for the family all day and was beat. Then younger boy announces that he can't sleep without one, pleeeeeeese one iCarly episode, as he feels much better and not so frightened of "going to sleep" if he can fall asleep to that. Okay, but I'm tired now too, so I'll just lay on the couch until you're done, special movie night and all, and then tuck you in as usual. 

Dante comes along and says "Hey, the floor is wet". I'm awake. 

This happened once before, once, and I didn't like it then. For some strange reason, which this luxury apartment complex claimed to have fixed, the toilet decides it will run, and run, and run.......last time I caught it at the small hallway. Last night? It was literally 4 inches deep in the bathroom, the bathroom closet was 4 inches deep, the hallway, the living room, one bedroom, the dining room, ALL 4 inches deep in water. 

I'm stunned to say the least, as every step literally makes waves roll across the carpeting. I roll up my pants, and have visions of Mickey Mouse and the Scorcers Apprentice while turning off the main water valve to the toilet. 

Just how bad is the water? Oh phooey, it's going to be hours of sopping this up.......so, I get a towel and start soaking and squeezing into the bathtub. I begin to wonder if we have concrete floors or will the neighbors be knocking at this now very late hour? Aramis can't take it, somehow in his easy to trigger delusional state, assumes HE is to blame.....no one is honey, it's the toilet. Oh shoot, can't convince him differently, and I can only tackle one monster at a time. Watch more iCarly, stay put and I'll get this. 

And there's the knock at the door......great, the neighbors are getting wet now too. Nope, it's another set of neighbors to tell me that my little service dog is outside trying to get back in. When did he get out? How? Huh? Okay....get in here buddy, and thank goodness you don't go far from me. I thank the neighbors profusely, and return to squishing the towel into the bathtub. 

Now: how to get the water BACK to the bathroom that is now spreading across the carpet into the entire apartment? Hmmm, I have a swiffer, I'll use that.....and I begin to push the water back to the bathroom, where I now have 4 inches to pick up again. 

The dog goes and sits on husband, wet paws and all.....and now he's awake wondering what's going on? Oh boy.......well, at least I have help now. We both keep pushing the water back into the bathroom, and picking up the towel that gets heavier with every soak. Wonder what the closet looks like? Oh phoooey again, it's up the walls, and has soaked into all our storage. So, we start pulling stuff out, and swiffering that room, another 4 inches roll into the bathroom again. 

By some outrageous time in the early morning we've got  most of the water back down the drain. I call the emergency management and they ask: "How many toilets do you have? Two? Okay, we'll get a message out".....and hang up. Huh? Squish, squish, squish.....the day starts. 

Finally someone shows up and sucks up what's left of the water, which is still a lot, and says that they will have to rip out the carpeting, bring in a dehumidifier, and push all the furniture to the last few feet of dry carpeting in the place.

Okay, we don't handle a house like this very well. I like a tidy home, a serene home, one that smells good, and is relaxing. I don't have that, and this isn't funny in my book. Glad the boys consider it an adventure, but my sanctuary has just been ripped up......literally, as he's cutting and pulling carpet in order to remove the padding underneath. I think I'll go out to my balcony, hide all day and work on my book. 

The walls are growing mold already......welcome to TX. 

So......that's how my day started. The management has determined that our toilet is broken. Really? Where'd you get that idea? At least it's clean water....just a lot of clean water. Husband says I should have woke him up.....I would have, when I got to the point of swiffering the water out of the bedroom. Really, it just seemed like it needed to be addressed NOW, and I still (and I'm 40!!!!) haven't got the message to all of my insiders that you can actually ask for help from someone else. It seems simple, but it's just not in there. I wasn't taught it growing up, and that's too many years to undo the training that you can't count on anyone to help, you just have to do it yourself. 

My balcony seems very peaceful right now. And hey......I was ready to return to writing anyway. 

And to think: I just bought carpet fresh to make the place smell so nice and homey. Guess THAT will have to wait......I do find it amazing that coming from such a chaotic home environment growing up, that my adult home life is constantly redirected towards a serenity. I never realized the importance of this for me/us until this event. The boys, Dad included are actually having fun with this adventure. 

Me? I'm shook, and I don't like it. The couch goes here! The carpet does not get ripped to shreds.....and is kept clean! The bedrooms do not get filled with wet objects to dry out. This is not a home! This is like the house I grew up in, dirty, nasty and just plain uncomfortable. 

Well, it will pass.....and time for me to recall that it is the year 2012, my dog is safe (how the heck did he get out?), and someone else is willing to help. All lessons I can take on today......albeit from my balcony. 

May everyone have a peaceful, uneventful day.......just check the toilet every once in a while. 

Which reminds me, darn.....there's no toilet on the balcony. 
Guess I will have to go inside at some near point in time :(



Shelly

Texas does get hot eventually, right? It's raining, and cold as can be....I'm literally bundled up like I'm back in UT. I asked, and "yes ma'am" I'm told it does get "mighty hot round these paaaarrts".....try to add the Texan twang in there ;)

No work today for husband, so we get to run a few errands and then return to the land of video games as the boys just got a new one. It looks interesting....but I can't sit long and watch it. 

I took the boys out for skateboarding yesterday....first time for them both. Aramis did great, although he overheated really fast (a Seroquel side effect), and Dante fell three or four times. I remember learning to skateboard, and had to let him know if he still had the skin on his knees, he was fine. "WHAT?! You mean I can skin my knees with these things?" Well, yeas, unless I put you in knee and elbow pads, helmets and the whole gear....but you're riding training skateboards and simply learning how to use your feet. I mean: 20 feet back and forth, that's it. We've done the protective gear with bike riding, and dude, you are no where near that level of skateboarding yet. Then, of course the little lawyer wanted to know what it meant when I told him to "get back on the horse and ride"? Don't let your fears hold you back little buddy.....you won't get far. 

Someone wrote me yesterday, asking about why they can't access the younger parts of their system? Well, hmmmm, you can't rush things, and you can't make things happen that aren't ready yet. Basically: that's it. If I could go back in time, I'd tell myself to slow down and learn the skills of taking care of myself first, instead of trying to dig out the dark underbelly of abuse long forgotten. 

"Just not ready yet....think of how the circulatory system works: if your body is faced with extreme cold, all blood is diverted to the core in order to keep you alive. Your psyche works the same way......if you aren't in a place to handle the information, then it won't come out. Sometimes other insiders have to come forward first, and in essence lay a foundation that prepares your mind for what is to come. Don't freak.....I'm 20 years into this dx and just connected to the first split.....you'd have thunk that "the baby who keeps crying" would have been connected with years ago. Nope, it took my psyche growing stronger, my life choices becoming healthier and a lot of bonding with the insiders before this one would come out. And hell it was.....when she finally did. BUT, we had the strength and tenderness of the unit to manage, so we realized in hindsight that all the other insiders who were "hard to reach" were just steps towards the bigger issues. Create a safe haven in your mind, and they will revel in it. Create safety outside the body, and they will feel safe. Things will come as your psyche can handle it.....Hope this helps."

And really, that's what it comes down to: learning to create a safe environment around yourself. After all, that didn't exist for most of our early years, so it's not something that's going to be recreated overnight. But, we have to become our own advocates and take care of ourselves now that we are "free" so to speak. 

Found out that Seroquel is......drum roll please............$340 for a month! That's right folks, over $300, and that's at a low dosage. Poor kiddo, good thing we bought insurance. Husband "did the numbers" and discovered that we've already ran psych expenses over $10g in three months for Aramis and myself. Now, I'm the cheap one, as we've handled my meds, and T appointments without insurance before. Apparently, schizophrenia is expensive....to say the least. 

And Aramis announced privately yesterday that "we need to watch out because brother will try to kill us". Okay....got your back honey, we won't let anything happen. Hmmmm, does this mean an increase in Seroquel? I think so, as the psychiatrist said he's still on a low dose, and it will have to be adjusted. Consider also that I found him two days ago huddled in the corner terrified of the unseen, then it looks like an increase is in our future. 

However, he handled school beautifully, and is certainly more alert. He actually recalled how to do multiple digit addition yesterday, which was "lost" at some point. How terrifying that must be to look at a paper, not remember, and then of course, start crying out of frustration. Husband and I were discussing it last night, and sometimes it's easy to forget just how "bad" the poor little guy had it. So, let's focus on the fact that things are looking up for sure. 

Makes DID seem simple, but in reality, it's not either. I found myself space out a bit yesterday with the skateboards, as I spent a lot of my youth escaping from the house to play outside....and yes, with a blue skateboard I literally was a daredevil with. The things I would do.....seemed like I had no fear. Watching my boys, especially Dante, made me realize how much time I spent on wheels......always trying to run away it seems. 

That struck me: the constant feeling of needing to run away. I still have it, but fortunately husband's job moves so often that I can be satisfied to some degree. It also helps that I don't have anything dangerous to run away from anymore.....just memories, and they are from the past, not the present. But do I love to pack and move.....there's a release, a freedom of a sort that I believe can never be quenched. It's just been present for so long, that it's now a part of one of us. I know who, and the satisfaction of moving has stopped the actual running away we did so often as an adult. 

The psychiatrist who runs the clinic we attend commented on my service dog the other day, and how well behaved he was. That's sweet, but I could tell he really wanted to know just what does he do? He hinted around about the subject, as it's illegal to ask outright. Well, he grounds me far more than I realized he would, but my old therapist certainly thought he would. It does help, as every time I have to move, there he is, and I'm reminded it's the year 2012. Almost like a little post-it note that hangs within sight at all times: "Notice: it's 2012 and you are grown up now." Pretty cool, the pdoc and I both commented on how more and more psychiatrist are realizing the role service animals have in providing assistance. It doesn't hurt that the dog won't let me out of his sight either, so I don't exactly get "lost" anymore. 

We've noticed, and Aramis' psychiatrist has commented on it, that the dog will hover and actually lay on Aramis right before he has a psychotic break. It's really strange, how he knows, but he does. He'll just sit, follow, sit, follow, and cling to Aramis......and if that's happening, almost 90% of the time an event will occur. If he's under Aramis' chair during school time, I'll notice that Aramis will start eradicating numbers and letters again....or will say that he can't "see" his hands. Interesting.....I'm just grateful that I have a little fox-dog who warns me now. 

Good lawd.....just found out that Dr. Phil doesn't believe he has ever met a "true MPD/DID" person! Hmmmm, what rock has he been under? That should be a really interesting show....I don't remember Oprah being negative towards this condition, but then, perhaps my memory fails me. 

Well, that about wraps up events here in Dallas.......and it's still cold. I'm off to feed the boys lunch and start half day school.......geesh, if you tell them it's a "half day", they act like school work is nothing.....then ask for more to do. Make up your minds guys......



Have a peaceful day everyone! 



Shelly

Yeup, Thursday. We (the boys and all of us insiders) called a "day off" yesterday.....literally sat in our jammies and watched hours of iCarly and some other pre-teen show with loads of cuddling and quiet.