United States of Jigsaw Analogy

"I pledge allegiance to the fact of the single personhood of Jigsaw Analogy, and to the community for which that stands, one person, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

I've been thinking about a lot of things, lately. Or, more to the point, we have been thinking about a lot of things lately, since there are two parts writing this! Anyhow. One of the many things going on in our collective head is some thinking about what it means to "integrate."

Reading the "healing" literature, (well-intentioned, but sometimes that is some really damned SHAMING literature!). Anyhow. Reading that, you'd get the impression that for a multiple to heal, they have to do something like become part of a Borg collective: "Your emotional and intellectual distinctiveness will be assimilated into our collective. We are Borg, resistance is futile. You WILL be assimilated."

Um, hello? That version of integration would be like telling people of color that in order to be integrated into society, they have to act just like everyone else. It's like saying that an integrated society is one where somehow people retain their "culture," but God forbid they go around acting different from the norm, because that would mean they weren't really integrated. And sure, there are people who believe this. Hell, there are people who think that the way to make society--or, frankly an individual with multiplicity--happy, healthy, and worth living in is to get rid of anything that doesn't fit with their idea of perfection.

That is just about the stupidest idea, when you come to think of it. Sorry, racists and people who can't handle difference. I know that other parts of this system like to act all tolerant and everything, and want to make sure that everyone feels welcome reading this blog. Too bad. If you're a racist, I don't care if I offend you that I think racism is stupid. And if you're someone who is going to tell me that the best way to be integrated is for all of the parts to merge into one, well, I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and risk offending you, too.

When I read or hear about people "integrating" in that fashion, it seems more like they are becoming ex-gay. I mean, yeah. They've learned to repress the parts of themselves that make them different from the norm. And this can make people feel more comfortable, and some people--therapists and psychiatrists included, God help us all--think that feeling more comfortable by avoiding conflict is totally the way to go.

I respectfully disagree. I want to integrate in that fashion just about as much as I want to become ex-gay, or want to integrate racially by pretending my skin color is invisible. Ain't gonna happen, folks.


But what if there were a different way to do this? What if integration as a multiple could be more like becoming a republic, which is to say--a lot of individual parts, recognizing that they are part of a whole while still being individuals. What if instead of focusing on merging into a seamless whole, integration could be something messy and complicated and hard to work through? Something where maybe it isn't easier, but no one has to be assimilated into the collective?

Which isn't to say that I'm against that whole "pulling together the disparate parts of yourself." 'Cause the fact is, multiples DO need to do that, or at least my system did. Or maybe it's just checking in, and recognizing which parts of the whole go with which parts. There are a lot of folks inside of my body who thought that they were just one thing. (Ellis, for example, thought that aside from being resentful, she was pretty much perfect. :P ) But as we've had each part "integrate" their experience, they've discovered, "Oh! look at that! It turns out that I'm not just angry--I am the one who is really good at these things, and I'm the one who does those things that are totally unrelated to being angry!"

Because the complicated thing with sharing a body is, if you're not very in touch with yourself as a part, you can lose touch with parts of yourself-the-part. If you've got shame, or fear, or whatever, maybe you attribute parts of your actions that don't fit with your self-image to other parts of the system.

So let's say you see yourself as absolutely perfect, like Ellis does. You might have a hard time reconciling that with the fact that you're really critical, and judgmental, and just a wee bit controlling. And parts like that (sorry, Ellis, but this is true. Goes for you, too, Cleo.) will think that when they fight to make sure that the entire system acts like one single person, some assimilated Borg collective of "individual parts" who represent to the outside world as a fairly seamless whole, that they are doing this for other peoples' comfort, or that they are doing this to keep the system safe.

Here's an analogy for you: This is like gay people who are so uncomfortable and afraid and ashamed of being different that they "act straight" all the time. Don't get me wrong. There are times that you need to act straight. Or at least, there are times when you need not to call attention to the fact of your difference.

But that doesn't mean it's true ALL the time. I suspect it's not even true MOST of the time. It's all about calculated risks. Look around you. Are these people really going to hurt you if they find out you're different? How can they hurt you? Most of the time, there is absolutely nothing they can do, if it turns out that you're different.

Sure, this isn't true for everyone. There are people who will lose their jobs, or their children, if someone finds out they are gay. There are people who will lose their jobs, or their children, if someone finds out that they are multiple. I say, those of us who don't run that risk have a responsibility to be as out as we possibly can. Because you know what? The only way, the ONLY way to make the world safe is for people to be brave enough to reclaim the different parts of themselves, and be proud of every part of who they are.

I'm not saying that individual parts can go off acting like they own the whole body. Because you are parts of a whole. Call it a jigsaw puzzle, call it a crazy quilt, call it a republic. It doesn't matter what you call it. You're not in this alone, and you can't go off acting like you are. And that includes the parts who try to pretend that the way to integrate is to pretend that everyone is exactly the same, and there is none of that difference that makes people so uncomfortable.

Note: this post started out being written with Ellis, but then she got over her bad self and let me take control. Me being Xan. I'll point out that it's a problem, when someone who is all over the idea of being out as multiple has trouble coping with the idea of some other part showing up in a space that is supposed to be accepting of multiplicity. Like, you know, their own blog.

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been a while

i haven't posted in a while. partly it's because i've been having bad fibro, and i still don't have a good desk chair, so i get tired pretty fast when i sit at my desk. partly, it's because the parts who have been out lately haven't been as interested in writing, or if one part wants to write something, someone else has another idea of what to write about and then there's conflict, so nothing gets written.

or maybe it's that the parts who have mainly been out aren't ones who have been on the blog much so they don't feel as comfortable writing? not sure.

i miss the things i used to do, and by that i mean things i was doing just a few months ago.

in terms of an update, we wound up thinking about the reasons s. had for not taking our insurance any more, and they made sense. and also, we figured that if she's willing to see us for a copay that is less than half what she was getting from the insurance company, odds are she isn't actually trying to get rid of us. so on the up side, we'll still be seeing her for therapy. on the down side, that's $200 a month we have to spend now that we didn't have to spend before. but there is another positive: i applied for food stamps, and they are giving me... $200 a month. so it works out even, pretty much. so that's good.

one thing happening is that parts have been struggling with memories and being triggered. one thing we've realized is that the triggers from present stuff are especially powerful because we don't actually remember the stuff that made it triggering. not sure if that makes sense. i explained it to w like this: let's say i went to the circus, watched a bunch of clowns, and then got stepped on by an elephant. but i blocked out being stepped on by the elephant, and just remembered how painful it was. so now, every time i see clowns, i'm afraid of the pain of being stepped on by an elephant. so clowns are what's scary. but really, the problem was the elephant.

so i kind of think if i can get to the point where i remember the elephant, then the clowns won't be nearly as upsetting.

the problem is, it's hard to stop blocking out memories. it's one of those things i have done for so long, and it's such a habit to keep myself from remembering things. and i have a lot of fears about remembering things, too. and i used to get such positive responses from NOT remembering, and it's hard to let go of that. plus, there's the fear that i'm making it up.

i guess that's something to think about. intellectually, i don't really believe the false memory people are right. they just come across as people who are trying to keep things hidden, and who are trying to keep people from finding out about bad things.

but at the same time, i can think of a bunch of things that i used to think were just nightmares i had, and then someone in my family will describe something that happened, and it's like... oh. that wasn't a nightmare. that really *happened* pretty much exactly as it did in the recurring nightmare.

so it seems like i would then be more willing to believe the *other* "nightmares" i have that are like those are also true. but in a lot of ways, i don't want them to be true. but at the same time, maybe realizing they are true is the only way to reduce their power. on the OTHER hand, realizing the things i now know are true are true hasn't reduced their power. those things are still upsetting for me.

so that's part of what's going on, at least right now.

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hating being crazy

today is one of those days where i am really HATING being crazy. really hating it.

instead of watching the inauguration, i had therapy. things kind of went downhill from there. i mean, just spending my day having therapy is bad enough in the usual run of things. other people have jobs, do useful things in the world, do things for other people, and so much of my time is taken up by coping with the fact that i am crazy.

and today, it was the inauguration of the first african-american president. this is amazing. i am thrilled. and yet... the tears i had today were not tears of joy, and it was the stupid, all-about-me feelings that i hate having, but don't have the force of will to keep from coming.

why was i crying?

i was reading an email, and someone was writing about how wonderful this is for little biracial children, how they can look to the white house, and see that anything is possible. and the tears came, because here i am... i had so much potential. when i was a kid, teachers would say that i could become the first black, and the first female president. they really believed i had that much potential.

as i got older, i realized i didn't want to go into politics, but i definitely still had that potential. i really believed that i could do anything i set out to do. and for 20 years, for maybe even 30 years, i was able to make that be true. hard work, intelligence, luck. whatever combination of things, it was working. i was demonstrating how much i could do, in spite of handicaps.

it was about overcoming. that's kind of how i made peace with the things i couldn't control: i focused on overcoming them. sure, we were poor when i was growing up, but that was something that didn't have to be permanent, that didn't have to say anything about who i was as a person. same with me being biracial, or female, or anything else.

i guess i thought that by getting past it, by achieving what i wanted in spite of the things that made it hard, that kind of erased the negatives.

and then... it feels like it all got thrown off by me going crazy. everything else, i managed to handle. i even dodged the bullet several times with going crazy. i can think of times where it came so close, and i managed to get past it, and keep going on.

so this last time... damn, it sucks. it's like i lost all of the things i was trying to do, which means, deep down, that it feels like i lost my chance not to be the person that the bad stuff happened to. because that's what the accomplishment was about. it was about proving to the world, or maybe more, proving to myself that just because i was black, or poor... just because i was abused during my childhood, it didn't mean i couldn't have a good life as an adult.

it's not about being black, or poor, really. certainly, those are things i can talk about with people, so i can tell they aren't the things i have trouble with. but i guess that i believed that if i just did enough, achieved enough, overcame enough, i could erase the abuse. make it like it didn't matter, didn't count, didn't really happen.

and then being crazy came along, and proved I really couldn't just ignore it. I couldn't really just act like it hadn't happen or didn't matter. And I'm furious about that.

But maybe mostly, I'm furious with myself over that. It was my job to make it as though it had never happened. It feels like that was the only way my life could work, the life I wanted to have. If I could act like it didn't matter that I was abused, that it was all in the past.

It's not even, not exactly, that I wanted to pretend it hadn't happened. I just wanted to have a life where it didn't matter that it had happened to me. Where I could deal with it, once a week, in a tidy therapy session. Where I could be a good advocate for children, make sure I did everything I could so it wouldn't happen to other children, and leave it at that.

I didn't want to walk around covered with scars. I didn't want to have to have it be this crippling thing that's making it hard for me to even make it through the day, with shockingly little expected of me.

I certainly didn't want it to take away from sharing joy with so many other people in this country, this historic moment that I feel is getting tainted by things that happened half a lifetime ago.

And that's part of what really makes me angry. That here I am, sixteen and a half years after leaving home, and I'm still reeling from the things that happened. It's not fair. I'm furious at my mind, for not being able to find a better way out, for interfering with my ability to cope. I'm furious with myself, for not being able to maintain the discipline that would have let me keep going on.

I want to be able to feel happy, and all I'm getting is sadness and anger. It sucks, and it isn't fair.

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exhausted

or, as the little kids say "i am EZOSTED!"

partly, it's fibro (and boy, do i resent having my fibro still flaring up in the fall! usually, i get a couple of months of better physical stamina! i WANT that. i NEED that!)

but more of it is that this was an exhausting weekend for me. yesterday was thoroughly aggravating until about 5:20. we were having a meeting of dinner collective--our first since we started a group on meetup.com, so i was anxious to get to the meeting place on time. but the chickens i was roasting turned out to still be frozen, which set me back by about an hour and a half (ever tried to rapid-thaw chickens, and then pry out the giblet packages from half-frozen chickens? not an easy task!)

and at the same time, our internet wasn't working (which turned out to be a router problem, and i need to figure out how to deal with that, since it's still happening sporadically.) so i was trying to fix that, thaw the chickens, get dinner made, keep the kitchen from becoming a *total* disaster, and not getting any down time.

dinner collective went well, although only one new person showed up. but we now have several meals in the fridge for next week, and that is a really good thing.

today was more emotionally exhausting. trying to deal with idiocy on our landlord's part, and doing some tiring processing with w (good, useful, not tense, but tiring never the less.)

last week was also very social, which can be difficult for me, so it's just been a while since i had down time, and there isn't a whole ton of down time coming up, either.

but that wasn't really why i started this post, now that i think of it. what i was *going* to write about is how i sometimes feel like i'm making things up.

case in point: tonight, the ones doing the majority of the processing with w were adults. those who have been reading for a while might be aware that the adult parts haven't been around a lot for the past year and more (not since the end of summer, 2007). they've been coming around more often for the past few months, but still not that often. one thing i, ellis, have noticed is that a lot of times in the past when w. and i both assumed it was adults, it was actually me. i have always operated as a kind of quasi-adult, so that makes sense. at least to me.

but the adults also tend not to announce their presence a lot of the time, at least, not if they aren't doing something specifically "adult." and i get that it can be uncomfortable to say "oh, right, this is who i am" to someone who has known you for a long time, and who you're used to just being "you" with. and the bulk of the time the adults were around, they were kind of the default, you know? i/we were with w for 4 1/2 years before DID was something we'd considered. and then the adults were only around routinely for about the first year post-diagnosis, and then it's been more than a year of us younger ones being the ones who are mostly out.

right. so the point. i went to check in with w before bed, and mentioned that it had been adults. i KNOW it was adults for the bulk of that discussion. it had happened a couple of minutes previously, and i'd gone into my room, and out for a cigarette, and then came back. and it seemed like a good idea to say, "hey, this is one of those times you got adult time." but it felt like i was making things up. not because of w's response, but because i had to say something. it's hard, because neither w nor i is always good, even now, at checking to see who is out. and it's hard, because there's a level where it feels like "if she can't see it herself, then i must just be pretending when i say what's happening."

not sure where i was going with this, but there it is. just some thoughts.

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self-help/support groups

i'm looking for opinions! please comment on this post, or send me an email, or something like that, if you have a response, ok?

i'm thinking about starting a self-help group for people with DID/MPD in my area. right now, it's still in the planning stage (like, because i know it would be a bad idea for me to try to do this without having at least one other person helping, and it takes time to find someone who would be interested!)

but i was wondering--if you could have a support group that did just what you wanted it to do, what would that look like? if you're in a support group now or have been in the past, what are the things you like and dislike about it?

note: in this case, i'm talking about a self-help group, and not something therapist led. because i think that in many ways, the best people to help me cope with being multiple are other people who are also coping with being multiple!

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wallpaper

i don't know what's up today, but i swear, the wallpaper on my computer has gotten changed about five dozen times today. normally, the wallpaper on the computer stays the same for months or years on end, but different parts have been grabbing the computer mouse as the slideshow of pictures plays on my google sidebar, and clicking "set as wallpaper" every few minutes.

no real point to sharing that, i guess. but it's getting a little crazy for me. crazyER.

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memories and monsters

had an interesting conversation (does it count as a conversation if it's all in my own head?) with the part who was out in therapy yesterday. not quite sure who it is. maybe one of the nonnys, but not completely sure. i think she's probably eight or nine, just based on the images i get when she thinks about things.

anyhow, she'd been talking with my therapist about how it is really dangerous to play, and how it's like there is a certain number of times you can play when nothing will happen, and you never know how many times that is, but if you play one too many times, then it will make the bad thing happen. same with not remembering all of the little things they do to keep safe.

her logic as to why things haven't been as bad since i left home is that maybe they just got better at being able to be careful, and if they *stop* being careful, then the bad things will happen.

after therapy, i was trying to get a sense of what exactly they mean, when they worry about "bad things." and this one gave me some interesting information. i don't think that they actually experienced the abuse directly. from the perspective of some of these parts--the ones who are super careful about following lots of "rules" and stuff like that--what they experience is this:

they miss some particular step or magic thing or make some kind of mistake. then they feel dread and fear about what is going to happen. then they "wake up" in pain, or they have more "nightmares."

and the thing is? i have fibromyalgia. i wake up in pain a LOT of the time. so now i'm trying to explain to them the difference between how i wake up in a lot of pain now, and it's not the same as when they were little. i point out that i *don't* wake up with bruises i don't know the origins of, that kind of thing. but... it's hard to explain the difference, because to them, it seems pretty similar.

what's funny is, they don't seem fazed by pain if they know where it's coming from. i was weirded out yesterday because i seemed to have a blister that i didn't remember, and then all the kids told me where it came from, and they didn't mind that at all.

and the nightmares... if all they remember is "nightmares," how can i explain that the things that happened when they were little weren't the same? that *those* things actually were happening, but the terrors they have *now* of nightmares are memories, and not actual "monsters."

but at least now i have more of a sense of why they are so nervous.

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disability

several people have suggested to me that i should apply for disability. i'm not sure what i think, but i'm leaning towards that right now.

but even as i type this, i am also thinking "how disabled am, i, really?" and it's hard for me to answer that.

i'd say that if w were totally incapacitated, or something like that, sure, i could probably get it together to figure out how to work at a job. but the truth is... there have been times when that seemed like it would be the case, and i couldn't get it together.

it's hard for me to accept that i can't actually do something. i mean, my legs aren't broken. in fact, none of my bones is broken. my body doesn't work the way i would like it to (it often startles me to discover that things i'm so used to are not, in fact, normal. you know, like being physically capable of standing up while a train or bus is moving).

i've tried to get myself to where i can do freelance work from home. i have trouble accepting that there is a good reason i haven't been able to manage this. i mean, i'm smart. i'm willing. and i just can't do it. i can't manage to work on my website, which isn't even something where there is a deadline.

i had to stop working on my dissertation, because i couldn't handle it.

but what "counts" as being really disabled? i keep hearing those voices in my head, saying "if you really HAD to, you could do this." and i can't work out what's true. there are a LOT of things i've felt like i really had to do, things i FEEL like i really have to do, and i can't. i have tried.

i've tried to make an appointment with the ob/gyn to get some health stuff taken care of, and i haven't been able to do it. i spend hours getting myself to dial the number, and then i can't manage to make the appointment. same with the dentist or the gp. there are physical health things that are actually problems. things that are definitely going wrong... and i can't manage to make the appointments.

does that count as disabled?

does it count as disabled that i mostly can't manage to shower, if i *can* manage to change my clothes and use deodorant, so i'm not visibly unbathed? does it count as disabled if it takes me three or four tries to talk myself onto a train if it's crowded? (and for me, "crowded" equals "people sitting on 3/4 of the seats")

i see people who can manage to keep working, even though they have much worse things going on. there are people who manage to work with all kinds of disabilities. so i can't figure out why i'm not managing it.

just because i become intensely suicidal when i push too hard... shouldn't i suck it up, and make myself work, on the theory that there's probably only a 20% chance i'd actually wind up committing suicide? i mean, that indicates that there is an 80% chance i'd live through it. those are good odds.

feels in a lot of ways like i'm just not trying hard enough. but then, there's also the fact that i feel like i'm trying my best, and just not succeeding. and that is... weird. i mean, i was raised to believe that the only reason i would fail at something i am supposed to do is if i haven't tried. and so i keep doubting that i've tried hard enough, because i keep on failing.

just... processing through this. not quite sure what the point of the post was.

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flashback

trying to process through a particularly intense flashback i had this afternoon. not really sure why it was as intense as it was, but then, who knows about these things?

so i was standing there, washing dishes. this is an activity that is often pretty triggering, and i know perfectly well why (lots of abuse around doing jobs perfectly; also abuse that happened simply because i was there in the kitchen, where someone might notice me.)

as i was washing, almost done with the task, i found myself flinching, braced as someone hit me. i turned slightly, so i'd be able to predict where the next blow was going to fall, and so i wouldn't instinctively try to lift my arm to protect myself. and somehow, i managed to notice that i was in my kitchen now, that this wasn't really happening.

i think part of what made it more intense than usual was the combination of circumstances. i was stressed when i started washing the dishes (although less so than i've been for a lot of this week). there were my hands in the water, washing dishes, checking to make sure the various plastic ones were getting fully cleaned. and i was listening to a song i listened to a *lot* when i was a teenager (Go On, by Russ Taff). so there were a lot of signals that brought up memories.

trying to remember what i was thinking about right before the flashback, and i really can't think what it was. nothing that is out of the ordinary for when i am washing dishes, and not feeling especially trigger-y (because i have learned that if i'm feeling trigger-y, washing dishes is not one of my better options). i hadn't even dropped something, which often brings up a flashback.

my sense of it is that much of what made this flashback as intense as it was, is that several parts experienced it simultaneously.

often, with a flashback, i only get part of the experience. for me, it's often mostly emotional. i know that the little kids, especially, get ones that are mostly physical (a more intense version of body memories, from what i can tell). some parts get ones that are mostly memories, as though they are watching something happen.

i also suspect that part of what made it feel different was the fact that at least one of the adults was nearby as it came. or so i suspect.

afterwards, after i had grounded back into the present, and decided to go ahead and wash the last couple of dishes, even though i was feeling kind of overwhelmed by the flashback... one of the parts who has been out recently commented on something. she was feeling kind of... dismissive of some things. i don't know. but she said something about how one reason the adults haven't been around lately is that for them, they would rather be dead than admit they can't handle things, or that they are not doing a perfect job with everything in their lives. (perfect in their world, which means... not necessarily perfect, but doing all the right things, and trying hard, and overcoming adversity. admirable is maybe a better word?)

i'd like to deny this, that the reason the adults haven't been around is because they can't handle imperfection, that they really would choose suicide over this, and that it's not just their insistence on continuing to function that has made other parts block them out, but *also* the fact that the adults would be more inclined towards suicide, if they were unable to enforce that perfect-ness.

and yet, i do remember a conversation i had with cleo last winter. she was incredibly distressed over me being dropped from my phd program. she was really feeling suicidal, as though this failure was... life-threatening. and i can remember someone (me, another part? i don't remember) pointing out how, we wound up where we are because the choice seemed like we could risk suicide, or we could continue being functional (in the sense of doing a lot of work, and managing without more than minimal help, and doing everything well), but at the time, the two were incompatible. and we asked, "so would you rather be dead than fail to be perfect?" and her response was an unequivocal "YES!"

so i can't deny that it's true, at least about cleo.

it's been hard for me to start to see that, for all they seemed so functional, the adults in this system really aren't perfect. they aren't actually more functional, even. they just appear to be so.

not sure what the point of this post was.

i have been meaning to write a totally different post about the song i linked to above. it's a good song, even if you don't normally like christian rock. the message is pretty simple, and for those who aren't into all the "god stuff," there isn't an overwhelming amount in it.

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positive things about parts who have been out lately

it's been frustrating and exhausting with the parts who have been out lately. hard to deal with them, hard to figure out what to do.

but i've noticed some really positive things about them.

first, intellectually, i know they are there as a kind of safety valve. they are doing the things they do in order to protect us. they are trying to keep us safe, the best way they know how. i suspect they came out because of a few things that happened with w, which really did make us feel like we can't trust her. particularly, the little kids got hurt, and these parts that are out are really trying to keep them from being hurt.

one thing i noticed yesterday, as the parts who were out (who would rather not have names right now, which gets complicated in talking about them, but i'll respect that)... anyhow, as they were venting some rage by destroying things, i noticed that they can actually hear all of the other parts really well, probably better than we more "functional" ones. they were able to hear when someone spoke up about not wanting particular things destroyed, and they did listen. so while we're regretful about some of the things, nothing got ruined that was *that* important, despite how those parts were feeling out of control.

what's more, we made it through the day without doing major self-harm. those parts *wanted* to cut, quite a lot, but listened to the rest of our objections (specifically, not wanting the scars). they even listened when we requested that they not send nasty text messages to w until she was done at work, because we didn't want to make her day any harder than the lack of sleep the night before had already made it.

intellectually, i know the rage they are feeling is important. there were things that happened that left me/us really badly wounded--more spiritually than physically, but the spiritual wounds linger. and they are able to be furious about that hurt, in ways that i am not.

they are able to say out loud all of the desperately hurting things many (or most) of us feel inside. and painful though it is, i think that getting those feelings *out* is better for us, in the long run, if we can live through it.

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hating this

i hate this. i hate the fact that i can start to regain control, but as soon as i slip, there are other parts out. fighting with w. making trouble. pushing everyone away. i make a vow to myself that this time i will hold on, but as soon as i move, it's like someone comes out.

they are convinced that no one is ever going to love me or take care of me. and so they are doing everything they can to push people away. and then they get suicidal because they have just confirmed to themselves that no one will love me (them?) or take care of me (them?). and if i go out and try to smooth things over, they get pissed at ME for trying to suck up to people and make them like me on false pretenses, and they insist that the only reason people are at all nice to me is that i take care of them and don't ask for anything.

and what the f*** am i supposed to do?! either i am trying to maintain relationships with people so they won't reject me and give up, which the other parts find unsatisfying because they want people to love them even though they are being a$$holes. or i give up and just try to keep them away from other people, which proves to them that no one loves them.

i can't win. there is NOTHING i can do to fix this. the best i can do is try to keep myself alive long enough that these other parts give up, and try not to let them alienate everyone in my life. they are doing a f***ing good job of that, alienating everyone.

I HATE THIS.

i want the damned grown ups to come back and THEY can deal with this. but i think chariots' comment was right. they ditched me just like pretty much everyone else has ditched me. w is still around, but i know she is worn out, and there is only so much she is willing to do, and if the other parts don't stop, i know they will wear her out entirely. certainly, she is going to take breaks from dealing with us/them, which is only going to confirm to them that she isn't in this for the long haul. certainly she has the sense not to keep getting in fights with them.

and there is NOTHING i can do to prove to them that this doesn't equal her not caring. there is NOTHING i can do to prove to the other parts that someone not wanting to deal with them being f***ing a$$holes does NOT mean people don't care. they are convinced this is true.


so what will happen? if i'm lucky, these parts will back off and i'll get to deal with all the fallout from their crap these past weeks. i will get to spend a ton of time trying to make it up to w so she won't be resentful. and then i will have to try to get my life back together.

if i'm not lucky, the best-case scenario is that someone notices how badly they're doing and manages to keep them from killing themselves (which includes killing me and the others, for the record). best-case scenario there ends up with me in the hospital, which will only confirm to those parts that no one cares and they might as well die.

worst-case scenario is no one manages to intervene, and i don't get to live through it this time.

this would be a GREAT time for the adults to show back up. this would be a really USEFUL time for them to step in and take control. they should NOT be leaving this on me.

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hating this

i am so tired of this. tired of everything. tired of trying to cope with the other parts.

the adults haven't been around. every time we get close to the adults being around, something happens, and then... no more adults. so i'm stuck trying to fix things so the adults can come back. i'm stuck trying to hold our life together so that things don't fall apart completely. i'm stuck being responsible for a bunch of parts who don't appreciate me. but i can't rest, because every time i relax even a little, some other part comes out and starts f***ing things up. they get in fights with w, and leave the house because they know it pisses her off and makes her worry. i'm doing everything i can to prevent more extreme self-harm, and that's pretty much all i'm managing.

and i feel like i keep getting shoved back into the role i originally had, of the one who was stuck dealing with the garbage no one else wanted to deal with. when is this going to be over? when do i get to just be a normal person? i don't even mean "normal" as in "not having DID." i mean "normal" as in "not stuck doing a job i am getting thoroughly tired of doing." but there it is. i can't help taking responsibility, because if i DON'T, i know perfectly well no one else will either.

i know it's different from when i was a teenager. w is not abusive. but i can see that some of the parts who have been out will push her until she acts abusively. she is a human being, and if they push her past the point she can deal with them in other ways, it's not gonna be good.

so the not-abusive part is better. but in lots of ways, things are worse. because you know what? when i was responsible for my siblings and the house and all that? i still was *separate* from them. people could still see me, and even if my mother did pretty much nothing but criticize how i handled things, at least people outside the house could see that i was good and responsible and not a jerk.

but now the people i'm responsible for, the ones whose behavior i really have no hope of controlling, are inside my body. the ones who i'm trying to keep from running away or hurting themselves or wrecking my life? they live in my f***ing BODY.

and that's a whole lot worse. because 1, people see them and they see me too. they think that i should be taking care of this, keeping all of this garbage from happening. and 2, the life the other parts are f***ing up is MY life too.

i am so TIRED of this. i am scared of the fact that my safety relies on the ability of a 15 year old--and exhausted, frustrated, worn-out 15 year old--to continue being sufficiently responsible and persuasive and in-control. because i am the one responsible for whether or not i'm safe; it's not anyone else's job. i am the one responsible for whether i am able to get better. i don't f***ing know HOW. but it's still my job.

and then people will say to me, "oh, put that responsibility on someone else. let one of the other parts be responsible. let them take some of that." but the other parts DON'T. if i'm not in control, nothing good comes of it. and i can't be in control all the time. the reason they didn't lock me up along with the adults is that i can't keep other parts from coming out. so they know they can push me aside pretty easily. so they can get out and I CAN'T STOP THEM. i just get stuck cleaning up the mess after they have been here.

and i don't get to do any of the things that **I** want to do. because any time i'm out, it seems like i'm just trying to clean up the mess the others left. trying to keep w from getting completely fed up and exhausted and hating us. trying to clean up the literal messes. trying to get the others to even have a f***ing MEETING so we can talk about this, but no, they aren't willing to meet, at least not with me. they are refusing to get better, and i don't know how to get them to a point where things aren't so horrible, and i am just STUCK with this.

and the little kids haven't had time out for a long time, so i feel guilty about that, too, but i can't find a way of making that happen, because i don't actually know how to get other parts out if they aren't wanting to come out on their own and the little kids are stressed out about the fact that there are a bunch of furious teenagers. and they're upset that w doesn't remember to ask them to come out. and the other teenagers have been telling them that if w really cared she would remember to ask them to come out, so if she doesn't, they should keep themselves safe by not trying to come out at all.

I AM SO TIRED OF ALL OF THIS. i am FIFTEEN. when do i get to relax and just be me? i'll settle for getting to relax and pretend i'm an adult. i don't have to act like i'm fifteen. i just want to f***ing RELAX and not be responsible for anyone but me.

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dang

i had a dream right before i woke up that was *hilarious*, or at least, it was during the dream. but i forgot it as i woke up.

well, i also remember thinking that the NPR fund drive that was playing on the clock radio alarm was probably why *something* had been happening in the dream (you know those dreams that incorporate things going on around you as you sleep?).

wish i could remember the dream itself.

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interesting observation

collective-i have been having daily meetings by typing to a private blog. one interesting thing has been that after whoever is done typing, they click on the names of whoever was present at the meeting. and what's weird is, it's not always the same group of people, and i (ellis) am often surprised at who is there... like, "really? this part was there, but this other part wasn't?" like, how do i know these things, or something, when they didn't specifically say something at the meeting. and yet, they generally let me know if they are there, and if i don't hear someone say they're there, then i don't click on their name....

just a little bit of interesting-ness, i guess.

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sometimes i get tired of the pity party

this is going to be a fairly non-specific post, because i want to make it clear i'm not speaking about any one person or group of people.

but sometimes i get REALLY tired of the whole "pity party" that tends to happen when people are coping with having a history of abuse. sometimes, it feels like there's a culture of saying "oh, woe is me, these bad things happen and there is NOTHING i can do to change this, and now another bad thing has happened, and ANOTHER.... oh, woe is me. oh, i can't do anything to change this."

and then you look at the situation, and it really seems from the outside that there ARE things that person could do, but if you suggest those things, then you are being unsupportive and cruel and not validating how difficult things are.

i guess maybe part of this, on my end, is a reaction to my older sisters.

here's my usual example of the kind of thing i mean (no triggers, unless you get really freaked out by a lack of sympathy on my end, or by financial stuff):

my older sister has trouble with her finances. she tends to spend impulsively, and she doesn't budget. she is well into adulthood--she has spent more of her life over the age of 18 than under it. and she would keep having services shut off, and wound up having her house foreclosed, because of financial mismanagement on her end.

her response? to be upset that our mother hadn't taught her to budget when she was growing up. so it's not my *sister's* fault she had money trouble, because it was our *mother's* job to teach her to budget.

and i often see people (to my knowledge, not people who comment on this blog, in case you're wondering) who do the same thing with their abuse histories. they are like, "oh, i wasn't treated right when i was a baby, so now i am forever scarred, so feel sorry for me."

well, ok, yeah. we do get scarred. it totally sucks. but there are things we can do to change that. particularly once we reach adulthood, we have a LOT of options.

it's not like we can make things perfect, because we can't. yes, there are a lot of things that are hard. and there are days when i can't bear the thought of going on trying to cope and heal.

what i'm objecting to is the people who really do seem to be refusing to move beyond acknowledging the pain. the ones who spend a whole lot of time talking about how everything is so hard, and don't spend time taking responsibility for their own lives. with people online, i try not to say much, because i know that only a tiny part of who they are shows up, and it's entirely possible that they *are* doing a lot of things to improve their lives.

but sometimes, people online remind me so strongly of people in my non-computer life. the ones who, rather than sitting down and learning to budget for themselves, spend twenty or thirty years bemoaning the fact that they weren't taught to budget in childhood. the ones who refuse to take action on their own behalf, because they are still waiting for someone to come and save them.

and, yeah, i'm speaking from a place of privilege. i managed to figure out how to go to college, and because my parents weren't paying for it, that meant that when i left for college, they no longer had any concrete way of controlling me.

i was fortunate enough to not get into an intimate relationship until i'd done enough healing work to be aware of what a healthy relationship looked like.

i have been amazingly lucky in my friends. while we all have our issues, we do seem to be more likely to encourage people towards healthy rather than unhealthy behaviors.

i have also been fortunate in the therapists i've worked with (barring the idiots right after i was in the hospital, but that was two months out of my life, and i was able to see that they weren't doing me any good).

it's not that my life is perfect, or that i don't have hard days. and i don't know, maybe there are people who look at me and my life, and see that same pity party going on. i mean, i'm not working, because of the fact that between fibromyalgia and DID, it's just a struggle to get more than three or four "good days" in a row. and i'm sure there are people who look at me and think "well, if she would just ______ then she could be doing so much better."

so i do try to be sympathetic, and generally, i hold my tongue when people seem focused on having a pity party. sometimes, i even type words of support, trying to be compassionate and respond to their pain.

but then i get frustrated, and just kind of back off. because there are some people who seem to focus so much more on how other people mistreated them, and how they are wounded, than on figuring out how they can take control of their own lives, and change things for the better.

just had to get this off my chest. and apologies to anyone i might have offended by writing this.

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let me know what you think

i(we) have been working a lot this week on figuring out how to write (or, in the end, how to modify) themes on wordpress, so we can organize our website through that, which will mean that even those of us who can't write html can still put up pages. plus, it will be easier to keep links and the overall theme of the site updated, all from one place.

anyhow, we finally got it to the point where we're willing to show people who aren't w, so if you want to let me know your opinion, you can go to coping in crazyville and take a look around. the site is very much still in progress, but i'm pretty proud of having managed to put together as much as i have. (also: if you use a browser other than Firefox, Explorer, or Netscape, can you let me know if it's not working? thanks.)

there are other things i could be writing about, and i might get some of those up later this weekend. but right now, that's what i have to say.


**update**
if you have the time, and feel like doing so, we (ie, us in jigsaw analogy) would also appreciate feedback on the content. it's one thing to have the pages in theory, but it would be nice to know whether anyone else likes them!

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unconditional love

ok. before i begin this post, i want to clearly say... generally, i am in favor of unfettered free speech (except spam--i DESPISE spam, and delete it). however. with this post, i'd like to request that people not leave any comments that are just to say things like "oh, poor you for having that experience" or anything like that. sometimes, sympathy is something i can't handle. if you feel you must, go ahead. but please don't feel obligated to say something, ok? thanks.

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I wish you hope, that keeps you looking toward tomorrow
and away from yesterday.
I wish you faith, in yourself and all humanity
and the belief that we will finally live as one.
I wish you joy, I wish you peace,
I wish you more than you will need.
I wish you unconditional love.

~~from Unconditional Love, by The Four Bitchin' Babes.

i started thinking about this post because of a conversation i had with w last night. even at the time, i knew i was asking kind of unfair questions. the kind of questions where, even though i wanted her to tell the truth, there was really only one truth that wasn't going to upset me.

you see, i asked her if, had she known how our lives would unfold, would she have chosen to be in a relationship with me. and she couldn't give me an unqualified yes. some of that is just w--she *thinks* too much about these questions, or she doesn't hear the question behind the one i ask. and i ask those questions, because i know she will give the automatic answer if i ask "do you love me? do you REALLY love me? do you love me unconditionally?" and i don't trust the automatic answer to be true. so i ask questions that have less automatic answers.

in my life, my experience of love has not been unconditional. growing up, i was taught that the path to being loved was fraught with danger. and to a child, or at least, to me as a child, love was the source of things like a reliable place to live, food, clothing, shelter. and, oh yeah, that emotional nurturing that is supposed to be so important.

but my experience of love was that it could be easily taken away. if i could not discern what the adults around me wanted, they would stop loving me. if i could not be good enough, or if i asked for things they were unwilling or unable to give, the love would be taken away. depending on the adult in question, that could mean that they would abuse me physically or emotionally, or it would mean that they just stopped noticing me.

and yet, in many ways, being noticed in a way i was told was loving could be equally dangerous. because sometimes, being noticed meant getting something perhaps intended as "positive" attention from people who really didn't consistently understand what it meant to be nurturing to a child, and how just because you're touching someone doesn't mean you're touching them... there. or in that way.

so i was not an especially cuddly child, to say the least. which also led to punishment, because if i couldn't accept nurturing love, the occasionally appropriate kind, the adults in my life would get furious. why was i rejecting them? why was i saying, with my body language, that i didn't appreciate their love? because that's what goes through the mind of a six month old, or a three year old, or even a ten year old. and because, clearly, being furious and raging is going to teach that child to accept nurturing when it's available.

there were adults in my life, people in my life who were not violent, who were not abusive in any way. but for my first five years, i didn't have any extended experience of that. so by the time i got to school, i understood the positive attention i got from teachers as being based entirely on my ability to be good--to learn quickly, to not ask for any extra effort, to help where it was needed without getting in the way. and let me tell you, it was much easier to follow the explicitly stated rules of school than it was to follow the invisible twisting path at home.

but here's the thing. you know how they say in trainings for people working with kids, that kids will seek out negative attention if they aren't able to get positive attention? that may be true for some kids. not so much for me. i didn't fully trust positive attention anyways, since i never could understand when positive attention was going to be safe. so i certainly avoided negative attention, and was fairly undemanding of other attention. if it seemed freely offered, i would take it. but i certainly didn't seek it out.

i learned not even to rely on family members who weren't abusive, because for whatever reasons, they tended to... well, to be unreliable. my father is a big example of this. i didn't meet him until i was eight. then, for the next 2 1/2 years, we wrote to each other, and i spent some vacations with him. and then he stopped writing, stopped having me to visit. he never really said why. he just stopped. for a lot of reasons, that just reinforced the message that there was something wrong with me, something that kept people from being able to care about me, to love me, to give me attention in ways that were safe.

yes, i had teachers. and i am grateful for them. but for the most part, teachers were something transitory. built into the relationship was that it was time-limited. it was a teacher's *job* to teach, and the would do it no matter how you behaved. when a teacher was kind, it still fell into my vision of what they were supposed to do.

looking back, with all the various times i can remember teachers going out of their way for me, it occurs to me that they actually cared about me, as a person, separate from what they were "required" to do. but it never once occurred to me, growing up, that a teacher would want to see me when they weren't being paid to do so. it never occurred to me to go back to see a teacher after i was no longer taking classes with them. because my baseline experience was that people only spent time with me when they felt they had to, that people only allowed me to be around so long as it benefitted them.

growing up, i somehow picked up the message that one's family is supposed to love a person unconditionally. and since it was pretty clear to me that my family did *not* love me unconditionally, i took away the lesson lots of kids in that situation do: that there was something about *me* that caused me to be less lovable. that this wasn't the fault of the people who were unable to love me, but something about me, as a person.

at some point in high school or college, i found out that my mother had had an abortion. (disclaimer: don't get me wrong. even with this particular experience, i am 100% pro-choice. people have every right in the world to determine for themselves what happens when they are pregnant.)

the thing is, my mother's story about how she had decided to have the abortion reinforced some really negative lessons i had already learned.

when i was a few months old, she divorced my father. and then she found out she was pregnant. i assume there were a lot of reasons she would have decided to have an abortion. i mean, being a single parent with three kids already, and not much money, having an abortion or giving the child up for adoption, would probably have been a good idea. had she decided to do this because she didn't think she could be a good parent, while it might have been kind of sad, i could see her point.

but the thing is, the reason she told me she had the abortion was because she was concerned the baby would be dark-skinned. my father is black, my mother (and the rest of my family) are white. she didn't feel she could go back and not have *me*, but the subtext as it came across to me was, "had i known what would happen, i wouldn't have chosen to have a biracial child."

i know there are parts who have often understood that the "wrong, unlovable" thing about me is the color of my skin. too "white" for my black father to want to have anything to do with me (or for the black kids in middle school not to beat me up for it); too "black" for my white (and rather racist) family to fully accept me. they coped with me by insisting i wasn't "really" black, but at the same time, my skin color came up pretty often. the conditions i understood for being loved required that i deny basic parts of who i am; and also that i not cause trouble, that i be hyper-good, simply because i was only loved on sufferance, and should i ever be difficult, i would be dangerously rejected.

and knowing that there had been the possibility that i would have had a sibling, someone who would have been my full-blooded sibling, who would have looked more like me, who would have been close to me in age... how much of the pain and loneliness and isolation i experienced growing up, how much of that might have been alleviated if my mother had chosen to carry the pregnancy to term, and have the child? at the same time, knowing what i know now... would i choose to subject someone else to what i grew up with? no. so i'm not going to say my mother shouldn't have had the abortion, because i can't see that it would have benefitted whichever soul eventually came to reside in that collection of cells.


okay, so where was i going with this post? oh, right.

so knowing all of this, knowing all of my experience of rejection, i was talking to w about my difficulty with trusting her. and i said, "it's really unfair to you, the fact that it's so hard for me to trust. because no matter how trustworthy you are, the hurdle you've got to get over to achieve my trust is set immensely high."

and w gave me the strangest look.

"unfair for me?" she asked.

because, ok, sure, it's kind of difficult for me, too. but i guess i'm used to it. i'm used to not being able to trust that anyone will love me unconditionally. but w isn't. she has mostly known people who were able to give and receive unconditional love. and here she is, in a long-term relationship, kind of stuck with someone who is always braced for rejection.

so yeah, to me, it seems harder on her. because she isn't doing anything wrong. because she isn't the one who hurt me. and yet, she's the one who gets the fallout from all of the pain i grew up with. and i'm less able to be a good partner to her because of that. we won't even get into the fact that she thought she was getting into a relationship with an adult, and seems instead to have gotten stuck with this whole mess of teenagers and little kids, and the adults have now been gone for seven months, with no idea of when they will return. so to me, it seems like the one getting the really unfair part is w. (yeah, i know. it's something i'll discuss in therapy.)

i do wish for hope, and for the ability to look towards the future rather than the past. but sometimes, the past gets in the way, and makes it awfully hard to build up the faith that unconditional love is even a possibility.

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religion

i keep starting this post and erasing it and starting it over. i guess the problem is that there are several things i want to blog about, and i can't get them in order. or maybe there is more than one part trying to get something said? that might be why i'm thinking four or five separate things at the same time.

so what's the point of this post about religion? i guess to just write about some of what's going on for me right now.

first, there's the whole RA thing. i am relatively certain i didn't experience ritual abuse. but this is a hard time for people who did, and there's this... backlash, i guess. where i feel guilty talking about the things i enjoy about this season, because i know that some of it is really triggering to other people.

so i get mad--that there are these jerks in the world who do what they can to pervert and ruin holidays for little kids. i mean, what the hell? (um, sorry, i'll address that later....)

and the thing is, spiritually, i'm most comfortable as a pagan. and here we are, with the spring equinox falling on a full moon. this should be a happy, positive thing. i should be able to feel free to talk about rebirth and all of that. i should be able to feel comfortable with writing about my pagan experiences.

but because of those a$$holes who do things and abuse kids on a seasonal calendar, i feel like i need to be super-careful talking about pagan holidays, because even more so than the christian ones, the pagan ones got taken over by those jerks who are using them for really evil purposes. this is more of an issue for me around samhain/halloween/pagan new year. and even MORE so around winter solstice/christmas/yule. i'm generally more casual about the spring holidays (well, more on that later, too). but there's the whole ritual abuse thing, and i really don't want to go around doing the equivalent of kicking people where they're already bruised, so i don't write about it.

so there's that part.

and then there's where i am, religiously. i was raised christian. i was raised christian in the kinds of churches that just weren't really... uplifting. the kind where your experience of christianity is a whole lot of judging and shaming and all of that. the kind of churches that justify what i can now recognize as child abuse, but which they insisted was just parents trying to raise "godly" children. the kind of churches that say to stay in an abusive marriage because it's god's will, and the woman's duty to behave in a way that will "save" her husband, rather than to cut her losses and protect herself and her kids.

the kind of churches that discourage people from doing anything "worldly" like reading books the church hasn't approved, or listening to music the church hasn't approved, or really, doing anything that gives evidence of really enjoying the world, or thinking outside of the incredibly narrow little box the church defines for them. i don't just mean "don't drink, smoke, or chew, or run with those who do." i'm talking about "christian rock is evil because it's too worldly. you should only listen to music *we* say is ok." and "don't read anything ungodly, like (i kid you not!) c.s. lewis, madeleine l'engle, susan cooper, or, heaven FORBID, j.r.r. tolkien." (for those who haven't read them, these are all deeply christian writers of pretty darned christian fantasy novels.) i mean, seriously, my churches when i was growing up thought these books would lead us into sin.

the kind of churches where they spend weeks in sunday school teaching little eight year olds about the book of revelations, and how good christians will have to suffer and starve because they won't be raptured until after the tribulation, but they won't be able to buy food or anything because to do that you'll have to get the mark of the beast, so you and your family will starve to death and not be able to have anything, and go through a whole lot of terror and suffering, just to prove you're worthy of god's love.

now, don't get me wrong. it's not that the people were evil or bad. i totally get that they thought they were doing the right thing. i mean, if you really believe all of that, and you honestly believe that there is only one way to get to heaven, and it involves a lot of pain and suffering, then maybe you are doing the right thing, by your beliefs, if you push other people to follow impossible rules. i don't know. i guess if i believed that the only way to be saved was to go through pain and misery, and i wanted my children saved, maybe i would do that too. i just don't know. because i can't bring myself to believe in a god who aims for all of the "true believers" to be in pain and suffering. i mean, what would be the point?

but anyhow. what it ends with is that, even though i know there are a lot of devout christians in the world who don't have that worldview, it's hard for me to hear people doing a lot of talking about christianity without all of this being triggered. and so i just kind of shy away from the god-talk, because i feel like my own religion isn't gonna be accepted. (i describe myself religiously as culturally christian, spiritually pagan. and that gets thrown off because in terms of actual practice and religious observance, i'm closer to jewish, because i do that with my partner.)

and because all the god-talk is just triggering to me. but i feel guilty about not reading blogs, because i just can't cope. and i feel alienated from some forums, because even when they call it "spirituality" (or even on totally unrelated threads) lately, it seems like it just turns into this whole christianity thing.

i keep losing track of where i was going. i suppose i could've made an outline and stuff, but i'm just not feeling it.

right. the whole being triggered by christianity thing. i mean, i know that people aren't meaning to be triggering. but there's a level where i feel like... why is it ok to be spouting all of this stuff that is really immensely triggering to me, that brings up all of that guilt and shame and fear and pain.... but i can't even say a little bit about my *own* positive religious experience, because it's too close to things that people are triggered by?

i know i can't be the only person who was abused in a fundamentalist christian context. i can't be the only person who was scarred by the people who did all the god-talk, and were always doing something that i've considered the true meaning of "taking the lord's name in vain" where they bring god into discussions of things that are totally unrelated (like, "i got this toilet paper at 75% off, praise be to god!" ok, that's a *slight* exaggeration. but only slight.)

and i can't explain how it is that *some* people talk about god, and it's not triggering, and other people do, and i want to run out of the room and start screaming.

and then it's even weirder, cause it's not like a bunch of us in this system find nothing of value in christianity.

i mean, i guess religion is like sex. no, really. there are some parts who need to avoid it totally, and there are some parts that have learned it can be a healthy thing, done in a caring and respectful way. and there isn't any one true way.

maybe that's it... some of the people who have been bugging me write in a way that reminds me of the christians who insisted there was one true way (theirs) and no one else was going to get to heaven, and actually, anyone who didn't do it their way was basically either uninformed, or a deliberate sinner.

i really hate the whole attitude of "one true way" pretty much anywhere it shows up. because, honestly, there ISN'T one true way. there are different ways that work for different people, and there's nothing that says any one of them is better than the others.

ok. not sure what my point was, or anything like that, but that's some of what i wanted to write about.

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AAARRRGGGHHH!!

so today, i sat down with the mail, meaning to just make sure that the letters with the "explanation of benefits" from our health insurance we all correct. and lo and behold...

nope. they were trying to deny the claim for mental health benefits for me, saying i had exceeded my maximum. given that my maximum is "unlimited," i think that this was wrong.

so i called the number on the letter, and proceeded to spend twenty minutes trying to get to an actual person who could explain what went wrong with the coverage, and what to do to correct the problem (since we're talking about ~$1000 worth of therapy from last year, plus however much it would come to for *this* year, it's an important problem to correct!) the first two times i made it to an actual live person, they said they weren't the ones to answer my question, and then i wound up getting bounced back to the very first part of the voicemail system. i hate voicemail.

anyhow. the thing is, before i started going to therapy as often as i have been, my therapist and i both called to make sure that DID is covered under mental health parity in new york. and the people my therapist talked to assured her that it was. and the first time this bill got sent back unpaid, she called again, and they assured her again that it was covered. so we're working under the belief that... you know, it's covered.

after spending so long trying to get to a person, and dealing with people who spent several minutes taking my information, and then telling me they weren't the ones to answer the question, i couldn't help but think, "boy, it's a good thing for them that the hospital people who diagnosed me as borderline weren't right, because if i were borderline, i would SO be screaming at someone by now."


**update**

brought this up with my therapist today, and she had already talked to them, and they *insist* that they've corrected whatever, and she should get a check in the mail. we'll see. i just hope they finally get around to paying her. and i'm grateful she's willing to put up with the stupidity of insurance companies, because she's a good therapist, and i couldn't afford therapy if she weren't on insurance. and certainly not the amount of therapy i've been getting!

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trust

so the new couples' therapist w and i are seeing who (knock wood!) appears to be working out for us, has talked about trust several times.

and i was thinking about this. she asked whether i trust w, and i can honestly say i trust w more than i trust anyone else in the world. and that's a collective answer. we all trust her more than we trust anyone else.

which isn't precisely to say we *trust* her, just that we trust her *more*. the therapist (e, we'll call her) asked me to rate it on a scale of one to ten, so i'd say, overall with w, it's about a four. although probably it's a bit higher, but i was doing an average, you know. so maybe a five.

but then, i'm never quite sure what people mean when they ask me about trust. i mean, i trust pretty much anyone i interact with routinely not to be physically abusive. more or less, at least. there are parts who don't feel that trust, but they're also the parts who aren't entirely certain that anything actually exists. so i'd say, of us who are out often enough to have a sense of reality, we trust the people we interact with routinely not to be physically abusive.

i trust that when i buy canned food, the contents of the can will be what is marked on the outside. i trust that when i use my debit card, they will only take out the amount of money they are supposed to. i trust coffee shops and restaurants to give me food that isn't poisoned. i trust people driving cars to have some basic awareness of following traffic laws.

so where is it that i'm not trusting people? i have trouble trusting that they will remember i exist when i'm not right there with them. i have trouble trusting that people will follow through on things they've said they would do for me. i have trouble trusting that i will be able to depend on anyone outside of myself.

i'm able to trust people *not* to do things pretty easily. i trust people in my life not to go calling my family and letting them know about the things i've told about. i trust people not to tell me that i'm lying. mostly, on that last one, because there is still a lot of fear around people not believing me. but mostly, i trust that people will believe me.

i trust most people not to go out of their way to hurt me.

but at the same time, i really *don't* trust most people (or any people) to go out of their way to help me, or even, to go out of their way for me at all. and i guess that's where the lack of trust comes in. i find it really difficult to believe that people will make much of an effort, or respond well if i ask that from them. and i don't have much faith that people will continue to want to be friends with me, or whatever, if i ask for too much. and since i don't know where the line is, what "too much" is, i try not to ask for anything that hasn't been expressly offered, and try to avoid asking for too much of that, either.

and i guess there are parts who don't feel safe allowing emotional vulnerability to show, so probably, it's either just a long-ingrained habit, or we don't really trust people to be safe with emotional vulnerability. i guess we don't really trust that people aren't going to be critical of us, and reinforce the negative messages that run in my/our head: that i'm just lazy and selfish and not trying hard enough or working hard enough or that i'm making all of this up. a little bit, we're starting to trust a few people, and it's not like we've had too many negative experiences like that for a while (well, there was the hospital and right after, but that was so *clearly* messed up....)

maybe it's that it doesn't feel safe to allow myself to rely on anyone else. much as i and a lot of other parts are desperate for help, it doesn't seem safe to believe that someone else will be willing to be there to help us cope. and so we close off and withdraw, because sometimes, coping is the only thing we can do, and figuring out how to cope and also be with people becomes impossible. i don't know. and i *do* know someone else has been waiting to do something else, and i've held on for a while, but i guess i need to be done now.

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