Trying

It is very hard for me to accept that, just because I want to do something, choose to do something, it doesn't mean that I can do something.

I would say that I have come to this level of acceptance with fibromyalgia. I would say that, but on reflection, it's not really true. I've managed to ingrain some habits--rest more often, be aware of what I eat, don't try to do some of the things that are far more difficult with fibro--but, on the whole, my main feeling is that I'm just being lazy, if I could just find the willpower, then the pain and fatigue wouldn't keep me from doing the things I know I should do. I suppose it's for the best that I'm not the only adult part, since I would probably manage to push well past the point of collapse.

Perhaps because it's "all in my head" or perhaps just because I've been trying to cope with it for less time, this whole struggle with DID is seeming even more difficult. There isn't something about it that can easily be seen by other people. From the outside, I am just one person. So why, then, do I find it so difficult to get these different parts to just do what I would prefer to be doing?

For a lot of reasons (self-respect, financial security) I really would like to be working. Even though I am dimly aware of the fact that my body won't do it, even if it weren't for the difficulty of coping with where I am in my mental health process, it still feels like I'm being self-indulgent, lazy, selfish. W. has enough on her plate without having to support me financially.

And yet, realistically, I know it's something I can't do. If I can't manage to do routine household tasks, there really isn't any way I could currently pull of working outside the house. But I still feel very guilty about it.

Maybe it's because I used to be able to push myself to do things that, on rational reflection, I shouldn't have been able to do. And if I could pull something off at, say, fourteen, then why can't I do something that's objectively easier at thirty-two?

More than that, there's the struggle of figuring out how to cope with the different parts inside of me. I mean, it's my brain (although, here, I get a chorus of voices insisting that, no, it's their brain too, and I'm not allowed to act like I'm the only one, and so on). But I did always think I was the only one, and felt really guilty or surprised or confused when one of the other parts would show up.

Perhaps because the adults in the system have a pretty good degree of co-consciousness, our experience is more, "This is odd. Why am I doing this when what I thought I wanted to do was that? Why do I enjoy doing this thing, as though it is something I always enjoy, when just yesterday, I couldn't stand to do it at all?"

We, in the system, have always been careful about stating strong opinions. And we've been even more cautious about doing things that indicate there are different people inside. A lot of that, probably, is me. If my job is to pretend everything is normal, then we have to present a united front to the rest of the world.

This makes some things easier. My closet doesn't look "different," because we simply came up with clothing compromises so that the majority of parts would be happy willing to wear the same clothes. I have practiced acting as though it's perfectly normal to have a bunch of different toys, or to have a range of books to read (although several parts have been short-changed in that category, because they like books the others are embarrassed to carry).

But this united front has made it more challenging to cope with the problems (I reluctantly admit) we have. Just because the Analyst can explain why something is happening, just because the adults in the system decide that the goal is to feel better, be responsible, take care of the things we need to take care of.... Just because I know something intellectually doesn't mean it's got a path to carry over to any of the other parts.

And I guess it's not reasonable of me to expect to do all of this "right" the first time I try. That said, it has been my experience in the past. I could decide I would keep working even though I was tired. I could decide I would get into a good college even though I had no idea what I was doing. I would decide I could get sufficient rest from three or four hours of sleep, and convince my body to go along with me.

And because I used to be able to do that, the guilt from not being able to do it now is kind of crushing. It's hard to convince myself that my failure to do the things I feel like I "should" do is not because I am lazy, or selfish, or not trying hard enough. It is because, in fact, I can't do these things right now. I can't stand that. And I can't understand that that's true. And then, I think: If I can't get that, then what must people think of me, when they're not inside and can see how hard I'm trying? Because it doesn't look like I'm trying from the outside, or else I would be succeeding.


I guess trying is not the same as succeeding. But I've had a long experience of, if I just try to do something with my full will behind it, then I will succeed, to one degree or another. And so this repeated failure feels not so much like failure, as failure to try. Because if I tried, I would succeed. I guess that's not really true. But it's still, deep down inside, what feels true.