A Colonoscopy, Ketamine and Polyfragmentation

When we were diagnosed in late 2015 with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), we initially came up with about 20 names that there was some sort of record in the brain or externally of the body having used. In three years of off-and-on treatment, the number of alters that have made their presence known some way or another has increased slowly to roughly 40ish. Then, late this March we were ordered to have a diagnostic colonoscopy. Everything has now changed.

We have described, previously, our ‘system’ (multiple personalities in one brain who function together cooperatively) as “The Enterprise.” Well….when we woke up from the colonoscopy procedure in late March, ALL of the alters were wearing Admiral Insignias and they were all trying to fit on the bridge… HUNDREDS OF THEM. Seriously.

Everyone wanted to be in front at once

We had no idea how many alters were hanging out on The Enterprise until it had to be grounded because the entire crew was trying to get into the captain’s chair!

Grounded, what did that mean? There were days upon days that the body went without being able to function. We stayed in bed for some of it…zoning out in front of mindless video drivel in the powerchair for hours when we were awake and up.

We had one clue, there was a shadow memory of someone telling us that we had been given a dose of ketamine during the diagnostic colonoscopy. Ketamine?! We remembered the medications that usually were given to me during general anesthesia: Propofol, Versed, and at times Fentanyl, but we had never been given ketamine during a gastrointestinal diagnostic procedure so the ghost memory didn’t make sense.

The episodes of polyfragmentation fronting continued, but soon we found that we could singularly front for longer episodes once a few days had elapsed from the colonoscopy on Wednesday. Around Friday, we started to crave some answers and we started calling the hospital and emailing the doctor who had performed the procedure. The primary task was to discern what had happened to the brain?!?

Downtown Seattle from Harborview is always a nice view

The gastroenterologist replied to our email that he didn’t think that ketamine would be given during the procedure, but he would have to check with the anesthesiologist and nurse anesthetist who performed the anesthesia for our colonoscopy and get back to us. The nurse who called from the hospital to check on us after the procedure also had no answers. No one could tell us what had scrambled our brain and grounded the Enterprise before the weekend descended. We were alone with a scrambled brain over the weekend.

Once Monday arrived, so did answers. Early in the morning we received a reply from my GI doctor confirming that we were given ketamine during the procedure (much to his obvious confusion as to why), then within an hour, our phone rang with the nurse anesthetist on the other end of the line. She also confirmed that we had received ketamine. In contrast, she had an excuse for giving it: To avoid giving us opioids when the body didn’t want to stay under.

We finally had confirmation and even had the rationalization, but the frustration was only beginning. Episodes of polyfragmentation were intermixed with episodes of dissociative fugue, which for us, in contrast to feeling like the entire enterprise crew has descended upon the captain’s seat, a fugue feels more like no one wants to take the seat or even enter the bridge! No one wants to “front.” The body is blahhh…with no one to take control.

Fugue states can be inconvenient for systems or individuals who have any life and regular schedule. We are collectively working on our Master of Arts degree, or we were, when this occurred. When the brain was essentially off-line for weeks following the procedure, our higher education career began to be in question.

We had recently transferred into the Master of Communications program in our college after an issue with our eyes during the winter caused us leave the English-Nonfiction Writing MA program. But the more agressive alters and those who weren’t entirely onboard with that idea became argumentative inside and out. Once again, the fact we were time-sharing a body with many different personalities became an intense struggle.

We worked intensively with Dr. S, journaling when we could and struggling in a class that wasn’t coming easy while we really wanted to finish our first book that we started in our last undergrad year. We impulsively applied to an exclusive MFA program at a college back east. We did not get in.

Apps like Bitmoji & Snapchat make expressing alters easier

Then we prayed: Should we try again? Was there a Master of Fine Arts program out there for us or should we stay in Communications? The answer was clear and we wrote about it here, publishing it on Odyssey.

Once we made a decision to made a change, we wanted to find the last few weeks in the communications class easier, but they weren’t any easier at all. We finally finished two days ago with a “B.” For a class we didn’t even want to finish after being in an extremely dissociated state for several weeks of it, we will be happy with that.

We are still having episodes of polyfragmentation, and we have learned that there are more members of The Enterprise System than we had ever thought to consider before the ketamine exposure. Our primary care physician has added ketamine to our allergy list and we have instructions to speak to the educational Harborview hospital about the exposure so that they can learn more about dissociative identity disorder and how people with it can react to medications with dissociative qualities. We have yet to make that phone call.

Who Lit the Gas?

Gaslighting. What is it? The Encyclopedia Brittanica describes it thus:

“an elaborate and insidious technique of deception and psychological manipulation, usually practiced by a single deceiver, or “gaslighter,” on a single victim over an extended period. Its effect is to gradually undermine the victim’s confidence in his own ability to distinguish truth from falsehood, right from wrong, or reality from appearance, thereby rendering him pathologically dependent on the gaslighter in his thinking or feelings.”

The first time I experienced this type of abuse, to my knowledge, was within the context of my second marriage. Not only did my second ex-husband attempt to convince me that what I was experiencing wasn’t real, but he also constantly lied to my therapist.

The lies told to my therapist and Branch President of my church by my second ex-husband caused emotional turmoil that I am still working on resolving. Enough can’t be said about the damage it has done to my trust of the opposite gender. Well, I can say this, it has been over two years since my divorce was final and I have yet to even entertain the idea of going out on a date with anyone. I’m not certain I ever will.

When I hired a caregiver (my third try at hiring someone to assist me) this last week, I didn’t even comprehend that abuse of any type could be inflicted upon me by someone who was paid to take care of me. After all, I’m a fairly coherent (when one of the ‘littles’ who is less-than-verbal isn’t fronting) and I’m very intelligent and connected. Let’s face it, I’m usually online in one form or another.

Let me say this RIGHT NOW — not one of those things prevents abuse.

I do understand the realities of abuse. Or I should. I have experienced it enough. That hasn’t prevented parts of MEs from abusing others. Admittedly. I am still coping with the abuse parts of MEs have inflicted upon my own children. The realities of mental illness are not comfortable.

When I interviewed this caregiver whom I will call “Jackie,” she made a point of explaining she had extensive experience with people who were not neurotypical. She pointed out she had worked in a group home and in a couple of other situations with challenging clients and she appeared compassionate. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Jackie started on a Wednesday evening after I returned from a very stressful eye doctor appointment in Seattle that a friend from church had driven me to. I was exhausted and handed Jackie the checklist and asked her to help me to prepare for bed.

She seemed helpful and cheerful and I was excited to see her the next morning when we would prepare lunch for my mom and my daughter who would be visiting with my baby granddaughter for lunch.

When the next day arrived, Jackie was pleasant and helped me prepare a quiche after getting dressed. She finished up the dishes and I asked her to take out the bathroom trash. She took the trash from the kitchen into the bathroom and said she was adding the bathroom trash. I saw her take a bag out on her way out to her car as I was visiting with my family.

When everyone left, I went into the bathroom. There, in the center of the bathroom was the bathroom garbage. What was missing from the laundry closet was a quilt I had pointed out to her was waiting to be taken to the laundry. Okay, it could have been a mistake… after all, the quilt was in a bag also. Maybe she forgot about it and accidentally grabbed it.

When Jackie returned a few hours later, I questioned her about it. She adamantly stated, “I would NEVER do such a thing!”

Even when I stated I was sure it was an accident, she replied, “Absolutely NOT, I knew that quilt was there. I didn’t accidentally take it out. Someone else must have taken the diaper garbage out of the dumpster and put it back in here!”

What?! Was I hearing right? I called my Case Manager and explained what I just heard, and put her on speaker. Suddenly, the story out of Jackie’s mouth changed, “I didn’t say anything like that. I said it was an accident and I would get it out of the dumpster.”

I was dumbfounded. Did she SERIOUSLY lie to my case manager about what she had said to me? Okay. Wow.

Jackie retrieved the quilt from the dumpster, where she had stated it wasn’t on the first check. Then, when I hung up the phone with my case manager, she proceeded to attack me, accusing ME of taking one bag out, untying the kitchen trash and exchanging the diaper garbage for the quilt and returning the diapers to my bathroom.

I demanded that she leave.

She argued in the type of voice you use on a three-year-old. Then my protector alter, Nicki, came out. She’s a teenager and has absolutely no desire to please. She was blunt.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”

Jackie responded with “wow,” but didn’t leave.

Nicki told her to “get the F@CK OUT!!” Then, she screamed it.

Jackie still didn’t leave.

Then, George (another protector alter) threatened to call the cops.

She finally left.

So far we have spent one hour of therapy discussing this situation. I am certain there will be many more.

I can’t believe the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability that caused us all to experience. We don’t EVER want to feel that way again. EVER.

“I heard you said…”


As a woman whose body is shared by many different personalities, every single one of my social nightmares begins the same way:  With someone approaching me as these words coming out of their mouth, “I heard you said…”

It really doesn’t matter what comes next. The words will all fade out no matter what they are. My heart starts palpitating, I start shaking and panic ensues. What did WHO do NOW?!


After over a year of intensive therapy and feeling pretty good about where I was in the management of my complex PTSD and DID in spite of another bout of depression raising its ugly head. But apparently, something went terribly wrong.

This isn’t the first time in some twisted way one of my alters has messed with my life. One or more of my “protectors”, it seems, have been determined to “protect” me from some responsibilities that were feeling overwhelming for a short time, so they did their level best to make certain I won’t be afforded the opportunity to BE overwhelmed. Yikes. Decepticons within.

I had an inkling of a feeling. There was nothing, yet something. I just “knew.”

So, I discussed the possible results of such a betrayal with Dr. S. We talked through those things I needed to do for self-care while the world tumbles down around me.


Now to pour as many of my selves into my studies in Lit Theory as possible… we need an escape. The world as we knew it is no more. Because of the nightmare of “I heard you said…” IT. WASN’T. ME.

And yet.


A grandma’s nightmare.

I hate D.I.D. But yet, we don’t.


The littles are sobbing. They miss the GrandTwins.

Giving them all to God.


On to Freud, Marx, and Nietzsche… for Literary theory, that is.

I hope your day is free of nightmares.

The Enterprise, A Suicide, and A Multiple Romance

Screenshot_2018-02-13-00-40-32.pngI have been working with my new therapist, Dr. S., for almost four months now. The idea of a log progressed to a different app which was very versatile as well as easy to use, but my inner people decided it was too invasive and have stopped using it. All except for Boo, who likes to talk inside of it. However, we have found MyLogPro to be VERY effective for logging body symptoms as well as self-employment tasks.

Enough of the old, on to the new.

The Enterprise

I have been a “Trekkie” since I was just a little girl. My father built a diorama with a model of the Enterprise from the original series in the 1970s. The box that was mounted on the wall and controlled by a few switches, was complete with stars and phasers and a light-up enterprise. I loved it.

When my therapist asked me to choose a word to describe my “inner family” or the group of personalities that make up my whole, as it were, I said, “it’s like the Enterprise, complete with Tribbles.”



That is how I think of my brain. I even have a “brig” for those parts that are not behaving towards the good of us all. My Enterprise’s “Prime Directive” is a bit different than Star Trek.

The primary reason a “multiple” brain creates different personalities is to protect the psyche of the person, of the “multiple.” Therefore our “Prime Directive” is “DO NOT HARM THE BODY “(which includes the brain). When an alter (otherwise known as a member of the crew) violates this order, they are shielded from “The Bridge”  or having control of the body. If they continue to harm, they are confined to “the Brig” inside my brain and shielded from all contact with anyone inside or out.

Dr. S seemed amused at the metaphor that described the inside workings of my head.  I was thankful to be able to have the tools to describe how my brain works!

A Suicide

This morning when I woke up and checked in with my business group, I was met with the information that one of our very small number had passed away at his own hand. My history of suicidal ideations combined with my family history caused a bit of a post-traumatic reaction to occur… so I went into “self-care mode” disconnecting from the interwebs, medicating, and listening to General Conference talks after reading my Scriptures; all in an attempt to quiet my mind and center. PicsArt_02-12-01.13.48.jpg

I was left with a feeling of emptiness and was impressed to share a quote from one of the talks I had been listening to. The act of creating the meme with the quote forced me to read and absorb it for myself.

A Multiple Romance?!

PicsArt_02-08-03.08.37.pngMy divorce has been final for a year today. Since the demise of my second marriage, I have resisted all romantic contact completely. For 18 months, my heart was alone. Truth be told, it was alone for much of the 2.5 years previous as well.

The personality “Maggie” did fall for the second ex-husband for a short time. But only Maggie. The rest of a core of what is being estimated as over 50 “crew members” (including “Tribbles”) did NOT. In fact, many of the other personalities actually disliked that husband in an extreme fashion. However, “Maggie” became co-dependent and fell into victim mode which included giving him public excuses for his behavior and not standing up for herself.

The more that she created an environment that was dangerous for us all, the angrier other “crew members” became. Finally, when the worst happened, our tongues let forth a litany of abuses we had witnessed by him. He walked away yelling and cussing. That was the end of my marriage in June 2016.

While talking with Dr. S. today the primary personality “Marti” who is finally healing enough from my first divorce to begin coming forward again, not only admitted that she never liked the second ex-husband, but today came forth with the fact that she is in love with our boyfriend!

Yes, we have a boyfriend. Although I had stated several times that after getting involved with two abusive men over the internet, I would not be looking for or dating anyone online, I actually met someone online… but one difference is this man actually comes with excellent references. He has an opposite personality from the other men I have dated in the recent past; I’m in love with the person he is and what he stands for.

A digital mash-up since we have not met in person yet


I… what a funny word for me. I …Me… pronouns of the singletons… We, US… more fitting pronounces for a crew in an Enterprise ship that is my brain and my mind.  No matter the words, we are in love… or it feels that way to many of us. Others are unsure and scared. But who wouldn’t be after our history?

One element of our new relationship is distance. This paradigm fits for my circumstance. For his as well. We both have business to take care of. One of my pieces of business is to keep working on my brain… Scotty has much work to do on this Enterprise, we don’t want her failing any time soon!!

Long Absence…Looking Ahead

I want to apologize to my followers for my long absence. Many trials and challenges have come forth in recent months, followed by many blessings. Some of them I did write about, and you can read at MaggieSlighte.com. Others, I kept close to my vest…which is never a good thing for people like me.

I have returned to northwest Washington state: The place I consider to be my home. I say it that way because as I frighteningly realized in the past week while filling out applications for services, I have been fundamentally homeless for over seven years. Since I left my first husband, I have been without a place to call my own.

That isn’t to say that I haven’t rented rooms here and there and paid my share of rents…but I have had no real “home.” IMG_20170213_181227210

As I embark on my last 5 weeks of my Bachelor’s program, I am also looking for a place to settle down. This will hopefully mean me finding a therapist who will be working with me. After I scared off the last one, that is a goal that brings with it much anxiety. Due to my strong religious beliefs (read more about them at SlightelyMormon), and several of my alters’ dislike of men, I have to find a female LDS therapist…near me. Or find housing near a female LDS therapist who has training in Dissociative Identity Disorder (D.I.D.) . Either way, just the idea of finding “her” seems daunting. So, I pray and I trust God. I know that He will lead me where I need to go.
I hope your lives are full of love and lighte!


Coping with Trials and Changes in a Car

I reallocated my housing funds to travel. The goal? To attend my daughter’s graduation from University in New Hampshire on Mother’s Day (I will be walking also for my Bachelor’s). Doing so, made it so that I had enough cash for gas, but not for fancy things like motel rooms. So, I stay in my car. Back when I had a van not many people said much, but in a Volvo sedan it is harder to hide. The 1983 chassis also gets it’s share of attention from the public without it being my home. 20170328_180537_hdr.jpg

The dogs, Athena and Ruger Bear, are my companions and security. They make certain that no one startles me (us) or tries anything funny. In fact, one of my self-defense tactics is to go towards my car (with  the dogs inside) if someone is following me or won’t go away and leave me alone. I used that not too long ago and it worked wonderfully: The person that was talking to me and not getting the hint that I wanted him to leave (he acted like he was on some type of stimulant), promptly got the hint when I allowed Athena (half pit bull and a bark from her daddy’s side) to “bark him away.”

Not too long ago, I was given the fantastic blessing of staying with a local woman in her apartment for a few days. I’m sure she felt a little slighted when I chose to leave a day earlier than planned after a couple of unexpected trials hit my plate. There is no way she could have understood that I was attempting to protect her from me. Not in a physical or even any type of abusive situation, but I wanted to protect her from having to worry about me and my mental illness.

I know I don’t handle change well. I know that it is a HUGE trigger for me. It tends to trigger other “alters” to come out. I don’t have full co-consciousness of them at this point, so I don’t know what they might say or do that isn’t up to my standards. Especially not the standards I prefer to maintain when I am staying as a guest somewhere new. So, when the $900+ check I was expecting didn’t show and I got the notice that it never would, I wrapped up my visit and went back into my car: An environment I could control.

wp-1491262020664.jpgI hope my new friend didn’t feel too bad. She blessed me with several nights of sleep inside, friends for my dogs to play with, home cooked meals and a few showers to start with. She was looking forward to beginning a new job, and I needed to focus on my school work and writing. I wish and pray for all the best for her and her family. But I needed to focus on me. I had to have my car fixed (new exhaust pipe and new muffler) and counted on those funds to help with that. WIthout them coming, I reached out to the church in the area. They said they had no resources to help me. Instead, a friend ended up wiring me cash from her savings to help with the repairs. God blessed me with the help I needed.

What about the 30+ people in my head? Well, we went through a significant depressive period. So much so, that I wrote about it on my main public page and blog, MaggieSlighte.com, naming it after the suicidal ideations that I was struggling with: Fighting the Permanent Solution.  Was I classically “suicidal?” Well, parts of me were. Other parts strove to keep me understanding I am a daughter of God. Still other parts demanded I “sit still,” and not act in any way, using methods taught to me in Recovery International.  I also was kept in check by my companion and service dog, Athena. Even the puppy, Ruger Bear helped out.

20170330_173931_hdr.jpgComforted by being alone (with the dogs) in a familiar environment that I could control, we managed pretty good this time. I am learning, step by step what it takes to stay in control. I used methods learned at Recovery International meetings to help me “stay still” and not act impulsively. I noticed a few missing hours, but no catastrophes or missing days. That is a start of healing. Then came General Conference, and I felt my Lord and Savior’s peace fill my soul. Just the boost I needed!

Even with my limited means, I am learning what I need to do to stay in control and manage my massive anxiety and the rest of my symptoms associated with the dissociation. One day at a time.

What is This Disorder: D.I.D.?


We have been writing on this site for almost a year about the realities of living with Dissociative Identity Disorder (D.I.D.), but we never really got into the diagnosis and what we are fighting against every day when we choose to live. Why do we say it that way? Because every moment that we don’t listen to the temptations to escape this world we are choosing to live. We are choosing to exist. But we know it is a choice every single minute.

While researching this disorder, I came across this quote, “DID is arguably one of the most misunderstood and controversial diagnoses in the current Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). But it is a real and debilitating disorder that makes it difficult for people to function.” OH HOW we agree with that statement!!! Although previously thought to be a rare disorder, it has been found that 1 to 3 percent of the general population actually meet the criteria for diagnosis of D.I.D., making it just as common as bipolar disorder or schizophrenia. Also, not all personalities are obvious changes, it isn’t like the movies or TV shows that have been produced about multiples.

The most comprehensive description that I could find that really explained D.I.D. was on the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) website:

Dissociative disorders are characterized by an involuntary escape from reality characterized by a disconnection between thoughts, identity, consciousness and memory. People from all age groups and racial, ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds can experience a dissociative disorder. Its estimated that 2% of people experience dissociative disorders, with women being more likely than men to be diagnosed. Almost half of adults in the United States experience at least one depersonalization/derealization episode in their lives, with only 2% meeting the full criteria for chronic episodes. The symptoms of a dissociative disorder usually first develop as a response to a traumatic event, such as abuse or military combat, to keep those memories under control. Stressful situations can worsen symptoms and cause problems with functioning in everyday activities. However, the symptoms a person experiences will depend on the type of dissociative disorder that a person has.

NAMI also lists the symptoms of dissociative disorders:

Symptoms and signs of dissociative disorders include:

  • Significant memory loss of specific times, people and events
  • Out-of-body experiences, such as feeling as though you are watching a movie of yourself
  • Mental health problems such as depression, anxiety and thoughts of suicide
  • A sense of detachment from your emotions, or emotional numbness
  • A lack of a sense of self-identity

The symptoms of dissociative disorders depend on the type of disorder that has been diagnosed.

Our particular diagnosis is D.I.D. which includes this explanation on the NAMI site:

Dissociative identity disorder. Formerly known as multiple personality disorder, this disorder is characterized by alternating between multiple identities. A person may feel like one or more voices are trying to take control in their head. Often these identities may have unique names, characteristics, mannerisms and voices. People with DID will experience gaps in memory of every day events, personal information and trauma. Women are more likely to be diagnosed, as they more frequently present with acute dissociative symptoms. Men are more likely to deny symptoms and trauma histories, and commonly exhibit more violent behavior, rather than amnesia or fugue states. This can lead to elevated false negative diagnosis.

Some of the littles

The way OUR diagnosis was explained to us was that we began to “fragment” or split into “alters” when we first underwent trauma as a baby. My physicians and therapists agree that we were under 6 months old when this happened. Because we have a very intelligent and creative  brain, the way that our psyche coped with trauma was to create other sections that didn’t have to remember the trauma. When a trauma reoccurred, there was an “alter” to take the abuse, the main personality had little or no memory. The more traumas happened, the more alters were created. It is still our brain’s way of dealing with trauma: We split, creating another alter. One more name added to the long list.

In the last 18 months since the diagnosis was confirmed, we have discovered the names to no less than 28 alternate personalities or alters. There is an overwhelming feeling that there are more that exist.

We have started a project, asking our “system” of alters in my brain what photos of ourself or relatives that they identify with, attempting to give myself and my therapists a visual aid. This has proved difficult, but it is cathartic. It helps to look at a photo with the age that alter claims to be and see who those personalities feel they look like.

Some of “The Littles”

We are about half-way finished with the ones with which we have any co-consciousness (we hear them to any extent).

Here is a representation of “the littles” or small children in our brain:


The only alter who has chosen a photo representation that was not a photo of us (so far), has been a “protector alter” named George. He wanted to use the photo of my grandfather, George R. Slighte. So, we allowed it. We just want to know what THEY think they look like. It does explain why some of my little ones always get bruises on our arms: They think they are still little kids!

As we progress in therapy and in this process of recovering from the trauma we underwent as a human, not just a child, we will be sharing more when we learn it. We appreciate your support and your interest. Thank you.

All of MEs on the Road

This last month has been one of the biggest challenges for me since my diagnosis. I will admit I did not behave perfectly, but I know I did my level best. Going through a divorce  for a marriage I was wishing never happened was only one small component in my January excitement. The car that ran on prayers got an oil change and was loaded up again as full as it could get with Athena and her 3 month old son, Ruger Bear and all of my possessions. Then I asked a friend to come along.wp-1485991832896.jpg

I have had a few companions in my travels across the country over the last seven years. They are usually the age of my adult children or younger, the perfect age for a road trip. My current companion, Jacob Larsen, is a professional photographer who had most of his life limited to the great northwest until “Miss Maggie” got a hold of him and took him to the Grand Canyon for his 19th birthday about five years ago. I’ve been wanting him to join me for a bigger adventure ever since.

Jacob has known me since LONG before I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. He was one of the few people around me when my best friend first voiced his suspicions that I might be a multiple. He was even with me the first time I ever watched United States of Tara (DID as interpreted by Steven Spielberg). With Cub (Jacob’s nickname) along, I am much less anxious about my changes. It helps to have someone who can joke about it along the way.

wp-1485992316494.jpgThere has been an interesting development: I have discovered that even when I have changed into a younger personality I still get impressions from the Holy Spirit about what I am doing (although, in this circumstance, I am curious if I switched because of the impression). During our travels through California, on highway 99 running southbound, the road was AWFUL. I got what at the time I interpreted as an “icky feeling” and asked Jacob to drive. Not 5 miles down the road, the muffler fell and was hanging on by a wire. I am normally totally freaked out and triggered by car problems. Thankfully Jacob was driving and my anxiety stayed in check. The “little” alter went back in her place in my brain by that time and Cub easily slid under the car and fixed the exhaust and muffler by the side of the road without incidence. It was to be the first of the minor repairs that have had a major effect on this trip.wp-1485992309385.jpg

This is a different type of trip. I am beginning to learn what I need to support my brain. Before I left Arizona, I was given the most incredible Priesthood Blessing by my Branch President. The words that I heard have strengthened my faith and given me hope. I was blessed to visit the Snowflake, Arizona Temple the day before my divorce hearing with a dear friend who knew exactly what I needed. Then I was able to visit the Houston Temple less than a week later. God is keeping an eye on me and I on Him, during this trip.

Deadlines and Switches

Thursday night I had a deadline in a class at school. I wasn’t here. Not that I wasn’t PHYSICALLY here. but I wasn’t the primary personality. In fact, I have very little communication with that personality. It’s not that she is a “bad” person, but I had switched.wp-1483743967307.jpg

I experienced a trigger. Many triggers in fact. I had received a negative report about what my car needed to be functional while looking ahead at a cross-country trip. Then,  I had met with my mom after a long day of stressors, which included having my doctor refuse to see me for my asthma when I was 15 minutes late (after a 2.5 hour drive). It wasn’t a good day. It felt good to relax and sit down with my mom. Sometime during the conversation, I switched. I didn’t switch back to my primary personality until this morning.

Who was I? That’s always a good question. There’s usually a trail of digital breadcrumbs I can follow, as well as any journal entries that may or may not have been made. Now comes the “recap” phase. Now comes the debriefing stage.

This particular alter I have some, but not complete, co-consciousness with. That essentially means that I was aware that I had a deadline in school, so she was aware of the deadline. Instead of “giving up” consciousness to me, she did the assignment. What’s the problem in that? Well, SHE made some posts on the discussion board of my class that were not of MY “voice.” I also didn’t have complete memory of what was written under MY  name.

wp-1483744081348.jpgYears or even month ago, I would have panicked: I would have just quit the class and given up. I was in enough of an anxiety attack, I both emailed, then called, my disability advisor and asked her to look at the posts for me to make sure had inadvertently written something that was offensive or hurtful. I still haven’t had the “guts” to look at what she wrote. That’s next.

Then comes “clean up time.” I’m glad she knew how to drive.