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.
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.