The Struggle is Real

Every single day, I feel the struggle to determine if what I am feeling is normal or is it related to D.I.D. Every action I take, every emotion, every word is analyzed on the spot so that I don't make an ass of myself or worse. Reveal to those around me what is really going on.  

This shit is exhausting.....not to mention nearly  impossible.

How can I determine if something is normal, when I don't know what normal is? Have I ever been normal? That is the million dollar question.  Most of my adult life I have watched others and thought they were so much more put together than I am.  They are adulting so much different than what I am.  Occasionally, I have felt inferior and like I didn't have it together.  Hell most days I don't have it together.  As I have gotten older, I have come to realize that almost everyone is wearing a mask.  Nobody really feels like they have it all together and under control.  My mask got so good over the years that I have come to fool myself at times.  There was a time when I thought I had my stuff to together.

Then it all came crashing down.  There are days, weeks, months, and even years like this one....when I know that I am far from having my shit together.  I've been slammed with the fact that I have control over nothing.  It has been the hardest thing for me to deal with, that loss of the imagined control.  On the surface, I can come across as being calm and reasonable.  I have recently had several individuals tell me "but you seem so calm and collected".  To which I reply "if you only knew".  I know that underneath, there is a storm brewing, threatening to consume me from the inside out.  I can feel the spinning of the oncoming hurricane as my head gets louder and louder until, inevitable, I can no longer keep it in.

But is that normal?  Since I have become an adult...the last three years have been  the hardest years of my life.  I have been through abuse, years of infertility, years of therapy, years of the wrong therapy with therapist how poo-poo'd me, the loss of a child who still is living and breathing, the loss of jobs, the loss of my home, several mental health diagnoses, and the latest diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder, and so much more.  I keep telling myself that as long as I continue to get up and move,, then there is still hope.  Then all of these things...they haven't beaten me yet and I am still strong; but part of me wonders why I always feel the need to be strong.  Is it defeat if I just say to hell with it all and walk away? Yep. That is what I think. But what the hell do I know anyway?

This is what I do know.

I am exhausted. I am exhausted by the circumstance that led to this thing that I call my life.  I am exhausted by trying to figure out if I am reacting appropriately to those around me...to these circumstances that have led me to where I am today.  I am exhausted by the intense therapy that I am involved in.  I am continuously reminded that this shit is real...it is real exhausting.  I have always been a big supporter that "life is 10% what happens, 90% how you deal with it," but holy shit lately, as in this last year, I don't feel like I'm dealing with it at all.

I recently read a blog post that someone wrote about what she admired within herself.  I have every intention on blogging more and then I don't. I write hundreds of posts in my head. They never make it to this blog.  My goal will to be able to write "What I Admire Within Myself" next.  Something a little more positive.

All of Me...

Last night as I was listening to my ipod and trying to make sense of "all that is me"...this song came on.

I remember hearing this song a few years ago and it spoke very loud and clear to "me".  The DJ at the time said "my friendsd...those of you who are wear, have lost your way, feel as if you are broken....this is for you.  Surrendoer all of your heart (and more)...."

That would be me. Weary. Broken. Lost. Grief Stricken. Over. And. Over.

It's Time To Talk...Stigma

While it may be my goal to write this blog and begin to talk about my experiences living with Dissociative Identity Disorder, I am in many ways very invisible.  There are many who have read this blog over the last few years who know who I am.  Yet, at the same time there will be many who don't know me. I contemplated beginning a new blog where, I can express my views and be honest about my life, my difficulties, my experiences....safe in knowing that no one would know who I was. I have decided it is high time I begin to talk.

This week I have been thinking about why I chose in most circumstances not to discuss my diagnosis. I realized that my fears surrounding the stigma of mental illness really do impact my everyday life.  It is time to talk.

I guess to the outside world looking in I may seem very normal...whatever that might be.   I do not carry a label saying I have mental health issues. However, many who know me know that I do.  I do not carry a label that says "I have D.I.D.".

Obviously, when I meet people for the first time, I tend to skip over the fact that I have DID, and the fact that I have been hospitalized for severe depression and suicidal ideation. I do not lie. I just do not expand on certain issues.  I have a crap load of medical professionals in my life currently. Unless asked, I do not bring this up. Again, I will not lie. However, I do not expand. It is my expectation that they will ask.

My birth father is deceased.  My mother and step-father are still alive.  I do not ever say I was a victim of child sexual abuse and that one of my parents did the best she could and the other was the abuser.  I will tell you that my abuser ended his life a few years ago.  A few years to late....

The fear of rejection is fairly huge. I chose to limit what I tell people, even if I have known someone a long time I am often not upfront and open.  Why?  Truth be told I would like you to judge me as a person and not a label.  To see me as an equal who can contribute to society and can make a difference to this world that I live in.  I want you to see me as a wife and mother of two beautiful, well adjusted and smart teenagers and a wife.  So I try and seamlessly interact with society, despite everything I work at me fitting in to a world that at times is extremely frightening, triggering and scary.

It isn't easy for someone with DID to live in this world and appear normal.  I often switch between parts, my voice changes, my facial expressions change, my mannerisms change.  For many years I have tried very hard to try and plan and prepare for everything just to look normal, you see just being out there and being adult....it takes a huge toll on me...on anyone with DID.

I find it extremely hard to justify why I am so forgetful.  Why am I loosing track of a conversation half way through?  Why I have to keep time in my schedule free...just so I can either rest and recover.  Yet the reality is people don't recognize instantly that I have DID.  They do not realize when we have switched between parts/alters unless of course we react in a very clear physical way or the change is very drastic, they will just assume I am forgetful or pre-occupied with something else.

My husband, best friend (who lives 5 states away) and therapist...they know me well enough to know that these memory lapses are because of DID.  Only my therapist can tell instantly when there has been a change. My bff when we are together is also able to tell instantly.  My husband...he is learning and slowly figuring it out.  Often, my husband is able to prompt me during discussions because he knows where the forgetfulness is coming from.  He attends 99% of all doctor appts with me because of this very reason.

Society views mental health with scepticism.  The statistic that 1 in 4 people will struggle with some sort of mental health related issue....society tells us that it won't happen to us.  Indeed, with the 1 in 4 statistic, you know a minimum of 1 person who struggles with mental health issues.

Fear and stigma surround us.  There are tv programs about mental health, however it is often more for entertainment and just creates more stigma in my opinion.

People do not generally know anything about D.I.D, it is not the most talked about issue.  There is VERY Little coverage in the media about dissociative disorders.  Why? Because the underlying issue is trauma. Media doesn't want to talk about trauma.

Being victim of child abuse and young adult who was victim of abuse leaves a stigma that goes above and beyond mental health.  As a young adult, I was told it was my fault. I tend to hid the shame and the guilt I carry and have carried since being a very young child.  As a very young child I was told I was bad.  The harsh reality is of course I was a child/young adult, who was hurt.  Who suffered at the hands of adults and and employer who should have protected me or at the very least not hurt me.

Ultimately, I tend not to tell people about having a diagnosis of D.I.D because I am ashamed, not of the diagnosis or my parts but of what has happened to me.  I carry an extreme amount of shame that belongs to someone else. My abusers. One who is dead. One who is not.  This is my own self created stigma, I know.

Admitting that I have D.I.D means I am admitting not just to them but to myself, that what happened to me is a reality and as much as I sometimes wish I could, I can't deny my past.  I cant wash it away. I somehow need to embrace it. I need to someone how take up the mantel of rebuilding a life out of my past.

I want to live with this diagnosis and all of its difficulties and challenges. I want to not be a victim but a survivor. I do not want to be a statistic of someone who had a mental illness that is not commonly recognized and went misdiagnosed for 15 years while seeking mental health treatment.

My personal challenge in the coming weeks and months is to start dealing with the stigma. If people stop talking to me, judge me or ignore me. So be it. That is their problem not mine.

I am who I am.

I am the 1 in 4.

It is about damn time I begin talking....

Changes...

Just over a year ago, I lost my therapist due to insurance change. I had seen N. for about 10 months when I was no longer able to see her. After about 4-5 months without a therapist, I started seeing R. in mid March.  It was a devastating change. It has been a rocky 9 months with R. Learning to trust her has been rough.  She is committed to helping her patients.  She is committed to helping me. Afterall she was the 11th therapist I have had.  The last blog post "Eleven" highlights a little bit about that change and the positive that came from that change. Even though the change was fairly rough....it has been a blessing in disguise.  

It is my goal for 2016 to revive this blog. The aim of this blog will change to bringing awareness to Dissociative Identity Disorder.  I will also be blogging about the reasons why I have D.I.D. and continue to blog about mental health related issues.

I was diagnosed in 2014 with Dissociative Identiy Disorder.  It wasn't until I began seeing my current therapist the diagnosis was confirmed, following a number of mis-diagnoses over the last 15 years.  While life is still very rough. There has been a lot of positive that have come out of this diagnosis.

What is a Dissociative Disorder?
Dissociation is a coping skill that disconnects traumatic memories from one's consciousness, shielding them from the pain or fear associated with the trauma.  The traumatic memories still exist but are deeply buried within the mind.  The memories may resurface on their own or after being triggered by something in the person's life, usually appearing as panic, anxiety, flashbacks, and nightmares.  
For more information on Dissociative Identity Disorder please check out this link:  Infinite Mind's Website

 

Eleven...

In my post a few weeks ago I mentioned that something has happened with this new therapist.  It is the first time in 15 yrs of therapy...actually 16 years that someone was not afraid to touch the root of what is going on.  My last therapist, N., she saw it.  She knew what was going on.  However, 2 shoulder surgeries in the first 5 months of seeing her didn't give her the ability to dig deep into what was going on.  She did more stabilization and working on building trust and some light(er) ground work. 

ELEVEN.

That is the number of therapist I have had prior to seeing R.

She is the first person to address the abuse and trauma head on and not back off.  She hasn't let "me" get scared, freak out and tell her nope, nadda, not going there, nothing....and backed off.  Instead, in those moments she has hunkered down and said what I needed to hear.

"Do you want to get better...?"

Yes....

Hello June....

Here is it June.  Only the 2nd or 3rd post of the year.  I wish that I could say that life is wonderful. Life is peachy. Life is all roses.  Actually, life is still hard.  Hard as hell.  But, at the end of the day....I have continued to get up.  Which is what I promised myself and my kids I would do regardless of how hard it is.

The last post in March I had just began seeing a new therapist.  It wasn't going very well.  It wasn't her... instead it was more the reason why I was there. Having any choice in who I saw at this clinic wasn't an option and well...it wasn't going well.

It's been almost 3 months since I first started seeing R.  It hasn't been easy.  Holy hell it hasn't been hard as hell.  I really want to say hard as fuck.  But I've been trying to refrain from using the F word. That doesn't always go very well.

For the first time in 15 years of therapy...something has happened.  Something pretty damn big.  Something that isn't always easy to wrap my head around.

I will try to "talk" about that in my next blog post.

M.I.A.

Life....things....it has collectively went down hill over the last several months. 

Another therapist change. This time by no other choice than lovely insurance change.  That I had no control over. Beaurocratic bullshit got in the way.  After being on a waiting list for several months I was scheduled with a new therapist. Someone I knew nothing about. The verdict is not out yet on what I think about her...It's still fairly new and fresh.

I'm fed up with people and life in general. I can't return to my job.  Living with physical pain daily.  Unable to scratch my damn back if I needed to because I can't move my arm.  Loosing my home.  Will loose my job...because someone didn't do their job.  Lost my therapist whom I loved.  I'm crazy as shit and I'm fed up.  Simple fed up.  If I could figure out a way for it all to go away.....I would in a heartbeat.

The only semi bright spot in my life was a week long visit to Utah the beginning of the month to see my dear friend D and her family.  It was a wonderful reset that my entire body needed!!

Same old stuff....

Today... Just like many other days tends to be rough. The theme is always the same. 

Today...I'm figuring out how to go through the motions. It is the longest I have went without seeing a therapist in many years. Truthfully, the last time it was this long with no end in site resulted in disaster. 

Disaster lies on the horizon. No therapist. No psychiatrist. Nadda.  

I'm not working. Managed to fail interview for important promotion.  

I have managed to push many, if not all, of those who supported me away. Try as I might continue to sucdeed. 

Failure rings loud and clear.  So loud I can't hear much else.   

Wordless Wednesday with Words

Several years ago when I began blogging there was this thing that would go around the blogging community called "Wordless Wednesday". Often moms (that is only blogs I read) would post some cute or not so cute picture of their children or life.  With no words.  Just a picture.  Sometimes there would be words.  Sometimes the pictures were edited to have words on them.  Other times the pictures portrayed a picture and the point was easy to get....

Here is my Not-So-Wordless-Wednesday Post...
It pretty much sums things up...

Self Harm...

Self harm is disturbing. It is brutal.  Yet, often it is the way I feel.  It is a way to bring sensation into my the body and fill a void.  Self harm is something I've battled off and on for the last 10 years. It  probably is something I have battled for more than 10 years.  However, right now it is what I can remember.  It started out very minor.  I can honestly say I never thought of the things I did as self harm.  The important part for me to remember....much of what I've done (and do) is done on an unconscious level.  It is almost always in times of distress and overwhelm.  I often feel like my body is an empty cavern.  Inside that emptiness is a bucket of emotions that are void to my knowledge.  They are locked up and sealed with a ton of duct tape.  It is when I inflict injury upon myself I am able to feel a small portion of those emotions...in a painful, yet satisfying, sensation.

I don't self harm because I like it.  I don't believe anyone does.  I hate every aspect of it.  I don't like it for a moment. I struggle talking about it.  It is like a drug.  Drugs are addicting.  Self harm is addicting.  Instead of washing away all of my emotions and memory with the drug, I allow myself to for once feel something.  Being able to allow the void to fill, even when it is a small smidgen of some sort of emotion.

I'm aware that many parents freak and flip out when they find out their child has been hurting themselves.  I'm a parent.  I can't say that I wouldn't struggle in much of the same way as many parents.  Yet, because I understand some of what lies underneath the behaviors, I hope and pray that if I am presented with the same situation as many parents, I will be able to respond differently.  This isn't about teens. It isn't about my children.  It is about me.  A 40 something adult.  Struggling more with these behaviors and emotions than I ever have in my life.

Not understanding the reasons behind self harm leads people to jump to conclusions like suicide, manipulation, attention seeking, ect ect.  Those who don't understand what self harm is really about believe that those who act upon the urges to hurt themselves are martyers, selfish, seeking attention, and often believe there is a need for major psychological intervention.  

In some cases, the above might be true.  However, in many cases it is completely the opposite.  It is completely the opposite in my case.  What I need is someone who is willing to truly listen and understand.  I've never cut myself and even though I've never done it.... doesn't mean I don't understand it.  I've battled the urges to cut myself many times in recent months.  Often for me, those urges come by accident.  While I'm cutting something for dinner and accidentally slip and hurt myself.  The thought to follow through and cut myself again, on purpose...gets stronger and stronger.

I have recently participated in one or more of self harm behaviors.  I am not proud of myself.  In fact, I hate every aspect and myself.  I have struggled a lot with  not being able to use the tools I know I have.  Finding a safe, useful, method to release and find the sensation and emotions that I am seeking.
Think for a moment or two, that your body is numb.  You can not feel anything.  You have completely lost all feeling.  Then, paralysis starts to sink in.  You get frustrated because you don't know what to do.  You want the sensation back again.  You want to feel your body again.  What do you think you would do?  Take a moment and imagine you have finally found something that will help you get that sensation and emotion you are seeking...that would allow your body to feel again.  Would you act upon it?  Would you take it?

I've said this before and will again, most individuals who act on self harm urges do not do it for attention.  Ultimately, it is to finally feel something.  It is to release an overwhelming abundance of trapped emotions.

It is helpful for me when I have someone who is willing to listen without passing judgement.  This person has to understand and continue to love me through all of the hell that I put myself and them through.  I have a someone in my life who does not freak out.  If she could be with me I'm pretty certain she would sit with me.  She has sat next to me. She has laid next to me, as I've sobbed uncontrollable and the urges to follow through have been flooding every ounce of my body.
Instead of freaking out and feeling like I need to be hospitalized she has cried with me, she has asked what she can do to help me get through every single tough patch.

This is why I am writing this post.   I know there are those of you out thee who are reading this and know someone who struggles with much of the same self harm issues that I do.  I want  to give you some insight and reasoning behind this awful part of mental illness.  I also want to challenge you to do the very same for them that I have had done for me. I have given you the perspective from someone who has and does live with it every.single.day of her life.

I leave you with my hope that you can/will take it upon yourself to listen-truly listen-to whomever it is you may know.  I ask you to love this person no matter what.  Unconditionally... love them with all your heart.  I ask you do do your best not to judge.  It is hard. I know.  Lastly, I ask you to take it upon yourself to try and understand fully.  From their side, not yours.  This is critical if your friend, loved one, spouse, child, whomever it might be, for this person to learn to trust you.

There are extremes to self-harm in which psychiatric help is necessary, I am for not one moment saying there isn't.  However, not everyone needs immediate attention. I am just trying to feel again.  Feel and not be numb.  It is much easier to not be so numb and regain a little bit of the feeling that I'm seeking when those around you are not freaking out about the methods in which you help yourself feel.  Instead, helping them feel your love and understanding may be....all they need!