The little people inside my head are screaming. Uncontrollably. They don’t like change. I am not sure how many there are, but there seem to be at least 4 under the age of 6.
Personalities that are still little. That don’t understand why the body is so huge and clumsy. They tend to walk the body into corners of door openings. They don’t allow for the whole body as it is now.
The littles don’t like change. Not one bit. They weren’t sure about having a husband here, but now that he isn’t here usually, they don’t like the change.
We are getting ready for a trip. There are a lot of uncertainties included within such an adventure. Many of my personalities not only enjoy, but CRAVE such travels. Not the littles.
My littles have to make sure their needs are met on a trip. Are there going to be enough stops to pee? We don’t want to get a belly ache about peeing, because that will mean bad triggers.
We are taking our service companion, Athena. She will help keep me/us centered. She is good at that.
But the littles are still screaming. How do I comfort pieces of my brain?
Do I have ANY control of this “system” as my therapist calls my MEs? Can I control who comes out?
I have been pondering on this idea for a few weeks.
How to control which one of ME is in control.
How do I do that?
Can I “trigger” myself?
Can I, myself, trigger a different personality to come out at will? I don’t know.
I get mixed signals back when I put it to the system. Apparently, that is one of the “benefits” or “side-effects” of my medication of choice. According to “the system,” cannabis enables me to compel the more “rational” and less angry and “affected” personalities to come forward. I have wondered about the possibility of experimenting with this theory by perhap abstaining from my medication just previous to therapist visits, so that he may be able to communicate with some of the “angrier” and “more affected” personalities.
On second thought, perhaps that should wait until I don’t have impending plans that could be catastrophically effected by the wrong personality having control over my body. (Those times when all forms of electronic communication should be hidden, if you know what I mean.)
There are times when I can’t access medicine that I need. Just that fact, is enough for anxiety to build. When I can’t control whether or not I have medication; I am even more anxious about controlling what goes on inside of my brain.
Then, what goes on inside my brain, effects how the personality in charge (depending on what age that person is, and how rationally or irrationally that person views the world; through what tint of abuse-colored glasses) reacts to each and every situation I am in. Those situations can be a replay of a memory in my brain, spurned on by a simple otherwise innocuous word on the radio… and then all of a sudden I am reacting as if my life was the hell that it was as a child.
These are some of the reasons I do my best to control the outside. I absolutely DETEST being in the same area as random-input devices: radios and televisions that play broadcasted material. Topics can come up a radio show that just by the drop of ONE word… my day is ruined: a trigger has happened.
What are “triggers?” They are those situations, internal or external that cause a reaction. Usually a swift one.
Internal triggers can be feelings: Physical pain, fatigue, hunger or even the urge to urinate.
External triggers can come from movies, radio, social media or live social situations. The more a person interacts with the world; the more potential triggers they are exposed to.
This is probably one of the reasons being alone is comforting to me.
Most of my MEs get along with each other. Sure, we have arguments & some of them do and say things I don’t agree with…. But they are safer to be around than the rest of the world.
There are times, especially since I have started trauma-recovery therapy, that my husband would rather walk out than trigger me once more. These are times when it seems that every word or action of his seem to trigger a memory or a feeling…. These are the rough times.
But can I trigger myself, on purpose, to bring out a personality to handle working on school work? Why hasn’t my system decided that there is one that can do it? Why do others still keep coming out and messing up my work?
Frustrating questions. And I am only six months into therapy. This is all new to me. I have much to learn. As I learn, I will share; that’s just who I am!
Being a “multiple,” that is, a person with more than one personality, is less boring than being a “mono” (normal person, or at least a person who only developed one personality) according to my therapist. Sometimes I wonder if he admires those of us with many voices in our heads.
Laughing. Seriously, it’s not like their talking TO me… but they ARE me, and also are talking WITH me. That is the best I can explain it.
Integration. That’s the goal with therapy and multiples. Becoming “one.” I wonder if I will end up feeling lonely. I wonder if I’ll have more or less difficulty dealing with the world.
Crowds are difficult for me. I prefer to be alone. At least with one person. And it has taken me a while to get used to not being completely alone. Being married to a great friend is helpful.
Alone. I didn’t realize until 2010 that I was afraid to be alone. But I craved it. I needed it.
I wrote a poem about solitude during a very difficult time in my life. Only a few days after the poem below was written, the boyfriend I had moved in with, pushed me down for the first time.
While I’m alone, I’m not lonely. It took me a few years after my divorce from my first husband to learn this. I had lived with my mother, as a mother to my first two children, until I could afford a place of my own. Then I lived with my children, before my first husband moved in with us. I hadn’t had the opportunity to live by myself until I was actually homeless after leaving my husband, in 2010. I was 46.
I hit the road. From a fantastic little BMW Alpine 525 to a van I could write in, and travel each day, I had finally found my “alone space.” As my current husband and I plan out our new house, I am adamant about building me a space I can be alone within the first structures that are built. I believe that all of my “MEs” need that space and time to process the world.
The world outside is LOUD, my world INSIDE is also loud. The more quiet I can get the outside world, the better I can understand the world inside. As I get closer to integration, I think I’m going to need a lot more time alone.
Back in 2010, I started a blog called “The Me’s” intending to take everyone with me as I explored the many personalities that I was being told by my then boyfriend, that I was displaying. That boyfriend and one after him are gone. The one after him attempted to use my diagnosis as a weapon against me and that fact (as well as the fact that he was otherwise abusive) added an additional few years on before I would seek help, and a diagnosis.
I waited to seek help until I had been married to a husband for a little over two years. He pretended to be supportive. However he spent the time with me at the therapist’s learning my triggers, then would use them constantly against me. When his choice of therapist supported him when the husband attempted to rape me, it was time for a divorce and a female therapist.
Now that the diagnosis has been made, I am trying again to start a place for me to keep the insights I am making. For me. And for anyone who chooses to join me.
Dissociative Identity Disorder. Multiple Personality Disorder. Disorder. Am I a Disorder? I don’t think so. I do believe that my life has been made a challenge by the method my brain chose at a very young age, to deal with trauma.
My therapist, and I, together have identified over 20 different identities. Twenty. More than twenty. And a few days ago I remembered a new name. Another.
Why am I writing about it? Because that’s how I deal with things. By writing about them. The harder the subject is for me to deal with, the more I write. This is something I know I am not alone in, so I decided to share it with others.
I have named this blog, My MEs. When I was a child, I had the initials “M.E.S.”, and I was constantly told that meant “mess.” As the many personalities that I have are coming forward, I came to the conclusion that they were just mispronouncing it all my life: It should have been pronounced MEEEz!
Laugh. All joking aside, lost time & absent memories are not cool.
Now I embark on my journey to discovering just how many “MEs” exist, and how they came into existence. This will involve uncovering all the abuse and trauma that I have survived. From the level of PTSD I exhibit, from incest and multiple rapes, I have a tendency to believe this will be a long road.
You are welcome to join me on this journey. For now, this blog is semi-private. How it will be in the future, is anyone’s business.