Tag Archives: Dissocative Identiity Disorder

The Difference A Few Years Make

Hey. It’s Shanna. I have been trying to create a journal from my older posts. It looks like the last time I posted was in July of 2014. I’m sure my readers have long since unfollowed my blog. I’ll test the waters again.

What has happened these last 3 1/2 years? I continue to go to my therapist monthly. Yes, I still live with my alters. Gidget and Little Shanna, mainly Gidget. She does not allow me to experience any anger before she feels the need to protect me.

My psychiatrist is currently trying to figure out the right combination of medications. They were okay for a while but in November my bipolar episodes started swinging really badly.

March of 2016 I had the gastric sleeve. My heigh weight was 404 my current weight is 176.

Other things that have taken place since 2014, years of an unhappy and emotionally exhausting marriage, one that I always tried to sugarcoat, came to an end. A very abrupt non-amicable end October of 2016. It was extremely difficult and trying. I, however, am rediscovering the person I surrendered so many years ago.

So, I’ll see if blogging again feels right. I’m not sure yet. I’d love to hear from you.

You Can’t See Me

Photo Credits: whatishowto.net
Photo Credits: whatishowto.net

I really hate days like today. My anxiety is through the roof. I have been working on my to list, each item giving me a greater measure of anxiety as I move to it. You would think that completing items would give me a sense of accomplishment, not so much right now. I am putting the completed items on my calendar, because I am pretty sure I will not remember accomplishing them.

Several items include dealing with other people over the phone. I have been okay with that, today I try to practice breathing and now listening to music to calm myself. So frustrating.

Yesterday I was looking at my Ipad and saw messages from a friend of mine. He sent me pictures of the beach that he lives near with snow on it. That was interesting. Even more perplexing, January 8th, I sent him a message, that I do not remember sending. It is a simple message, “LOL! It was 17 here with a wind chill in single digits. Crazy weather. Oh HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!‘ He then sent me a message back apparently and asked, “How are you guys doing?” I did not respond. I always respond to him. I do not know what was going on the 8th. Was I dissociated? Maybe I had a migraine and just do not remember. The 8th was his birthday, but I am pretty sure if the date had registered with me on the 8th, then I would have also remembered Grandmother’s death. That is the anniversary of her passing.

Today as I work on my lists, I want to do nothing more than climb in bed, and pull the covers up to my nose and tell the world, “You can’t see me.” I want to sleep. Sleep it all away, disappear under the covers, and hope to wake in a magical world. But lately my dreams aren’t magical, they bring nearly as much stress as being awake does. Nemesis from this world finding me in my dreams and preying on my innermost thoughts and struggles.

At the moment I am waiting for a callback from one item on my list. My attorney for my disability case. I suppose that I am anxious about that conversation, because I know that the last few times that I have talked in-depth about disability, an angry Little Shanna, and the other personality comes out. I am so tired that I do not know that I want to face that today, but any day will be the same.

Why not on Thursday…

Who Was On The Computer Last Night?

My husband complains today about being sleepy. I mention to him that it is most likely because he snored and needs to replace his CPAP mask. He then said, “No I was referring to someone else staying up all night.”

I looked at him questioning. I told him that I slept all night for change, or I thought I did. He goes on to say that I kept him awake messing around on my laptop.

Why do I find this so disturbing? I went to sleep before him. I woke up to go to the bathroom and he was still awake. We joked, and I went back to sleep. I do not remember waking up until Daisy started barking at 5:00. I told her to go back to sleep and I did the same. She woke me up again at 6:00, and I went did the morning routine that my husband normally does with the dogs on the weekdays. Letting them out, feeding them, and watering them.

I then came to check my email. Looked up a few things, and wasn’t on the computer long before I was sleepy and turned it off.

I have no recollection of being on my computer during the middle of the night. I do not know who was or what they did. It really bothers me. I really do not like this.

Photo Credit; colormegreen.areavoices.com
Photo Credit; colormegreen.areavoices.com

If I Were A Zombie

The last several days I have been compiling MP3s to help redirect my thoughts when I get really bad or start going there. I know that I have requested y’all to send me songs too. That request is still open. I asked my friends and family on Facebook also and received a great outpouring of response. I love being introduced to new artists and finding new gems in music. The music I have loaded so far seriously touches every genre imaginable. I even put some songs on there for Little Shanna.  It was almost fun selecting songs with her.

Some of the music brings back wonderful peaceful memories of old country gospel. Listening to it with my parents in their room on 8 tracks.  I have some monster ballads, rap, 80s and 90s pop, classical and contemporary piano and cello, and some indie.  I love music.

As I added songs I thought about what I was trying to accomplish.  There are times I want to just escape into the music and sing the familiar songs.  Other times I will need to be reminded of my worth and that the struggles are worth every minute, and that this is not my final destination.  Sometimes I need to be reminded of my beauty inside and out.  Then there are the times that I need a good laugh.  Little Shanna wanted children’s songs, so I guess she wants to remind me not to forget her and the child in me.

I have felt stronger today.  Want to associate it with the music and learning how to communicate with Little Shanna, and I have decided to keep calling her by her name.  One reason is because it is so important to her, another is because even though “Little” is the child in the case, “Little Hope” has a negative connotation to it, as in not much hope.  I chose Hope as my blogging name as a positive name to emphasize the HOPE I have that I will reclaim my Narnia, and my life.  Beginning to recognize now if that means integrating or accepting Little Shanna, I will be okay, she is anything but little hope.

Part of my good day, I found part of my voice.  My good friend, my Mother’s best friend has dealt with her computer since 2010. Replacing six motherboards and a video card unacceptable.  I called the company for her today and talked to a very nice gentleman, of which I am most grateful for.  I explained the situation and we conferenced in the store and my friend.  As a result when she arrived at the store and talked to the manager they agreed to make it right and she left with a new computer.  I am so grateful for a kind corporate gentleman well versed in his job, extremely personable, and focused on customer satisfaction. All of which are so hard to find in the corporate world today with people overworked and underpaid.  I am so grateful that it was a pleasant experience because it is usually when I get overly stressed, or as Mother says, “Lose Control” that is when Little Shanna takes control.

Since this post is about music I must share a humorous song that I put on my MP3.  I preface this with my husband loves zombie movies, me not so much.  I did watch Warm Bodies with him because it was a zombie chick flick, but generally, not my thing.  I found this song and sent it to him cause well, I just love him. ūüėČ

Enjoy~ Hope

Children Will Listen

How beautifully true the words are Children Will Listen, they kept playing over and over in my mind. Generally when we talk about children we speak of those that we touch in our physical world our children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, students, friends, or just the child on the street.

As I sang this song with tears in my eyes recalling the words that Little Shanna has heard from me all these years. The words I have said about myself. The words she internalized and having no way to process or express, she attached these to her other negative secrets. (She asked that I use her real name.  I will not always, but today. I agreed, because it is important to her.)

Whereas my shield against the world, forged by my parents, family and friends has mostly been created with positive input, hers, due to my inner negative dialogue became a shield that was not much of a shield at all. Just awful awful scary untruths and half-truths. Words a five year-old should never hear.

It is no secret that since I was a teenager, I have had thoughts of suicide. I attempted it once, but the razor would not cut me. I do not take suicide thoughts, talk, or attempts lightly. I have had friends who have felt the darkness and stepped beyond trying to find relief. I will not judge them and I will jump to their defense if I hear anyone saying anything about someone who has attempted or committed suicide.

However, as I have said before, I have made a promise to my Mother that I will not kill myself as long as I have my faculties about me. I will reach out, call, do whatever I can do get out of that dark place where you physically, spiritually, and emotionally feel a pain that is black, completely absent of light, piercing every cell in your body. You just want the pain to stop.

Having said that, as she has watched from her corner of my mind, Little Shanna, has equated sadness with the need to die or to kill yourself. She does not remember the promise nor will she make the promise that I made with Mother. See has seen my misery and torment that words do not do justice, and heard my thoughts seen the pills in my hands, as I shook and yelled.  I just want to die.  She has heard it so many times.  I have to get her to trust me enough now to LISTEN and make the promise that we will keep each other safe.

Singing I looked over on my night stand and saw the monkey I bought her the first few weeks after she came out. He has been covered with junk since I came home from the weekend that I bought him. When she first let me know her secret, I felt sorry for her, broken-hearted. I considered it our secret. As the months passed I have pushed her farther and farther away. Angrily at times, blaming her for the mess my life is in. If she would have kept her secret to herself. If she would not act out. If she would…

Seeing her stuffed bear reminded me she is a child and reminded me of the feelings I felt for her when she first let me know what happened.  I began to be really penitent about pushing her away, even when she was being  a loud five-year old at inconvenient times. She is a child. Most children act out in the least convenient times.

How is she going to heal if the one who should love her most of all continues pushing her away with hateful words, wishing she were gone. How is she going to heal when her protector becomes her abuser?

If she cannot heal then we cannot heal, and if we cannot heal then I cannot heal.

I know that we both want to heal TOGETHER.

Why Have I Not Posted, Scared I Suppose

I suppose you have noticed that I have been absent from my blog this week. Just writing this post I am getting anxiety, but as part of being real, I wanted to share what is going on.

I have had several migranes lately during the day, but that is not the reason I have not been posting. Honestly, I have been trying really hard to process the last time I disassociated. It really scared me.

I realized how out of control my life is. I am trying to figure out ways to reach Little Hope. Promises I have made, she does not recognize as promised she has made and that scares me.

This week when I have not been battling the inner demons of how to deal with her, I have laid here with my mind blank, numb almost, wondering where my life has gone. I hurt constantly mentally and physically.

My doctor is fighting with my insurance company trying to get them to pre-approve my MRI for my back. The nerve conduction study came back with nerve root damage, but they need to do the MRI to see what is pressing on the nerve roots.

Who knows what is going to happen.