Daily Archive for August 30th, 2006

Confused

One might think I have this whole DID thing down pat by now but I get surprises quite often. I’m use to most things with this disorder and I often claim that I lose very little time and that I am co-conscious more than not. The other day I began doubting myself when Blossom insisted that one of my 5 year old’s told her how to correctly spell her name because I spell it wrong. I doubted it because hey, she’s “my” 5 year old I think I know how to spell her name. I never got any objection from the little one but I didn’t get confirmation either so I just figured I was right until NOW. The way Blossom said she spelled it seemed to be a misspelling. I was kind of embarrassed because I know I don’t spell well so I figure a 5 year old me doesn’t spell any better. Maybe some of the doubt was to save face. I often feel so bad about not being able to spell very well. I have no idea why my spelling is crap but it is. Anyway, a bit ago I realized that the spelling of this little one’s name isn’t how I’ve been spelling it at all. The way Blossom said it is spelled is correct. It blows me away when others know more about me than I know about my selves.

I’m a bit on edge about the pictures too, the one of me and my sister. Of all the pics I have of me I do not remember any of them. I recognize the house and the things in the pictures but I can’t tell you how old I was or what what year it was. Blossom kept asking typical questions, ordinary things like, “how old were you here?” My answer was the same humiliating thing, “I don’t know.” “I don’t know.” How do you explain to someone that you’ve only lived a portion of your life as yourself and if and when you come up with the info about dates and times they’ll be among the first to know…. I get so tired of saying, “I have no idea how old I was.” And it hurts that I do not recognize any of the events in my family pictures. I do not know the girl in them other than that she is supposed to be me. She asked me about my high school graduation but I dont remember it. She asked about my wedding but I dont remember it. She asked about graduating from Culinary school but I dont remember it. I have paper saying it was this date or it was that date but that is the only real evidence I have saying I was there and breathing. How does that even make sense to someone who can only say, “time gets away from me” and not “I’ve lost years.” It just makes me sad and it makes me want to hide under a rock OR come up with some huge lie to answer questions so that I don’t look so stupid when someone says, how old were you or what year was it when you….. it seems like it would be so much easier to come up with a fabricated story to match ordinary questions. The first story will have to go along with the question, “What is your name.” I stop and think every single time someone asks that question. I stop and think every single time I fill out a form that asks that question. My mind almost buckles under simple stuff like my birth date, my home address…I have to look at my ID to remember it. I don’t know why.

It helps to look at those pics from time to time because it reminds me of how small I was. Being that small I can’t actually think that I could have done something to stop the family from hurting me and my older sister and eventually my younger brother. Seeing myself so small in pictures is almost odd because in my head I know I may have been small but to me I’ve always been an adult. So I look at the past with adult eyes and adult reasonings. Seeing pics of me so small helps to dispell the idea that I could have done something, anything to make life better for me back then.

Dinner is on. I’m going to bed early because I have therapy tomorrow. I hope I remember what I was supposed to tell him.

 

Me

The Domestic Handicap

The Domestic Handicap- Wednesday, August 30, 2006- 11:02AM

In addition to my mother being the worst cook in the world she also tried her ill-suited hand at sewing. Is it me just me or does my sister look like the black version of Heidi? Blossom and I laughed so hard last night when looking at this picture.

 

A therapist of mine giggled when she saw this picture and said, “Oh is this Halloween?” Now you know my pain. No, no it was not Halloween but it certainly was frightening.