you can spot my work schedule by my blog. long week: just a pictue. short week: three blogs in one day. by the way, blog is such a weird word.
i haven’t written about my “condition” lately. mostly because i have trained myself to walk around pretending like i don’t have it; like there is nothing wrong with me. but sometimes…well i can’t always avoid the truth.
on Wednesday of last week, i came into work in a different personality. apparently. because EVERYONE commented on how weird i was that day, and one of my co-workers/friends said “i don’t think denelle is with us today”. i’m not sure if she was talking about the Multiplicity situation, or if she just thought i was “on Pluto” which is what one of my other co-workers said.
i sort of feel like i have MPD-Lite. like a lite beer instead of the real thing. i’m not sure if that is an accurate summation, or a real possibility. maybe i just don’t want to think i’m as crazy as i am. i put up pictures on my blog because people seem to respond more strongly to my photos than to my written blogs, and somewhere in a corner of my mind, someone sighs from relief, thinking that if we just keep people happy we won’t have to talk about that “weird stuff”.
but it is weird. Wednesday i was in whatever personality i was in, and i didn’t know i was any different than normal. i’ve never played an RPG game or Magic the Gathering or anything like that, but i think i can liken my situation (multiple personalities) with Magic: people – like cards – are on reserve for certain situations. i more frequently use my WORKER card, because it is an appropriate face to show the general public. but i have all these other guys in my deck, just waiting for the right circumstance to pop in the game: a laughing little silly girl; a cynical, untrusting old soul; a prankster type; a klutzorama. all of them are waiting for their moment to come back, so they can hop around and eat ice cream, or stick their tongue out at someone.
and they don’t necessarily know that they haven’t been out in a while. some of my personalities are very aware of time, others, my lifeline. others are … well, pretty clueless and scared. and sometimes these people pop out on accident, which is maybe what happened on Wednesday, i don’t know. but then i had someone asking me if i was OK all night, is there some way they can help.
i’m like: Jesus, i’m not bleeding out of my eyes! i’m just crazy! and how are you going to help; have you got a personality organizer handy?
well, anyway, i guess all this came on because i just put up an old poem that uses the word “skritchy”, and that is what i call one of my personalities.
but skritchy is a story for another day….
I wake up naked a lot. I suppose that could be pretty hot, if one imagined that I’m waking up nude from a long night of sex. But I’ve been single for about a bajillion years, and there’s no one sleeping in my bed at night except me. And me, and me, and me. No, I wake up naked because of my “others”.
I used to sleep walk when I was a kid, which I thought was rather exotic and exciting. This potentially dangerous situation wasn’t dangerous at all, compared to what went on in my waking hours, and I chalked this wacky habit up to me being an oddball dramatic type. Some mornings I awoke to find my head at the foot of the bed, and my feet on my pillow. Days that I spent the night at my grandmother’s house, I awoke on the living room couch. It seemed I just got up and meandered about. I talked in my sleep as well, told to me by my mother, who remembers me trying to drive a car in my sleep when I was five. I told her I was trying to get to a dance recital, which must have been my older sisters.
My favorite weird nighttime sleep activity seems to be stripping. I have a habit of waking up shirtless. Or more often, just in my panties. Or better still, in completely different clothing than I started off in. I’d go to bed in my jammies, like cotton men’s pajamas, and wake up in a pair of boxers and a tee. Or maybe I’d go to bed in a silk nightie, only to find myself in a sweatshirt and bottoms in the morning. And there are times that I actually rummaged through the closet to get these items, because I know they weren’t easily accessible. I’ve taken to laying out several options on my bed, and just sleeping next to them like I have a ‘clothing boyfriend’. The options lie against the wall, just in case. It’s easier this way. I find I have less unexplained bruises in the morning from tripping over stuff in the dark, or banging my elbows on the closet door when my eyes are shut.
I have one particular “other” who seems to get the most enjoyment out of this. This as of yet unidentified personality gets incredibly hot when the rest of everyone is fine, and she starts pulling articles of clothing off the body. Off comes the sweater, off with the socks. She hates anything constricting on the neck line, so if I’m wearing a crew neck tee shirt at the time she comes out, I can pretty much kiss that shirt goodbye. She’ll rip the neck wide open, because it’s “choking her”. So when I wake up in the nude, I know whose been sleeping in my bed. I imagine she got hot in the middle of the night and just started peeling layers of clothing off. Although, it could be that she is a closet stripper personality, because I’ve always had a thing for pole dancing.
I think I can blame the missing bra on her as well. I had a favorite cute bra go missing for months at a time, and I couldn’t figure out where I’d lost it. I mean, I’ve lost a number of things in my life – my old Styx album, “Paradise Theatre”; my antique cigarette container that I used as a lipstick case; that year of my life in third grade – but losing a bra isn’t the same as misplacing your keys. It’s not like you accidentally set down your bra on a counter at Taco Bell. For the life of me I couldn’t find the thing, and then one day I discovered it hiding underneath my mattress. Like, wedged between the two mattresses. One of my kooky spiritual new age fluffy bunny personalities likes to blame this on the faeries; convinced that the fey came and made off with my bra for some reason. I think it must have been hot head, slinking out of the clothes when the rest of us were asleep. But seriously, did she have to stick it between the mattresses? To what end?
So yeah, it’s a little weird and funny, sometimes. Having this life I have. But for some guy in the world that finally decides to date me, I hope he might consider my spontaneous stripping disorder more convenient than annoying.
i’m emotional now.
driving to pick up my sister (whom i missed and i guess she had to take the bus, ooops) i kept getting a stab of a headache now and then.
i recognize this as one of my people, wanting to come out. i haven’t yet determined if the headache occurs when they are trying to take over, or if it happens because someone else doesn’t want to let go of the “driver” position, and shoves the other away, who then gets a headache. but headaches do seem to be associated with one or more alters specifically.
and since i’ve just been jilted by my shrink, i imagine it’s someone wanting to come out.
at this point, i guess i don’t know why i try.
i don’t know why i open myself up to people, when they just throw me away like an old McDonald’s wrapper. i don’t know, that is probably over stating it. it’s not uncommon for therapists and their clients to part paths. but, i guess because of my condition, i feel it might be useful for me to have someone who can help me, show me information i need about my condition, guide me in how to assimilate, or integrate, or just deal with this. i don’t really feel like i was an overwhelming client, but either i was and didn’t know it, or it was just time to move on.
but it’s excruciating for me.
it’s a diabolical difficulty for me to open myself up to people and trust, and let them in, and expose myself to them. because of this. because i get left behind. i’ve been given away too many times, and it literally hurts my brain. so i don’t know, i guess i’ll go it alone, without a shrink. what do they know that i can’t figure out? what can they tell me that i haven’t already discovered, or can’t teach myself? they’ve never been all that much help anyway, and i’ve kind of always been treating my own self for my own illnesses. ah well, physician heal thyself, i guess.
the more important thing to me is not closing up. normally, at a situation like this, i would hunker down. batten up the hatches. seal up all the openings. everywhere that i have opened myself up, i would pull back and slink inside. new friendships, old ones, lovers and hopeful lovers, all would come under the category of “toss overboard” when i’m feeling vulnerable and discarded. not because i don’t want these people in my life. but because i have to apply the statistics. i have to look at the numbers. i have to assume that the people in my life that claim they love me, or care for me as a friend, or don’t even say either of these, but occasionally look at me with fondness…i have to assume that these people will also, eventually, find me distasteful. unappetizing. disgusting. i normally sense this coming on, or the potential of its potential, and i pack up my bags and move along.
but i can’t really bring myself to do that now. i’m in too deep with the things around me. i’m too close to my sister, i could never bail on her now, because she is the life line that ties me to sanity. she has been there for me through everything and more, and i could never just escape the world if it meant leaving her behind. i want to sometimes. i want to run for Chicago, or make a break for Seattle, and just start over. create another name and identity, like i’ve done before. assume a new mannerism, a new role in life, a new personality. this gets me away from everyone that knows me and allows me anonymity.
but it is constantly severing. it brings new friends, but leaves me without people that know me well, and love me still.
but it’s safe. and sometimes safe means more than love.
but not today. not right now. i have too many people around me that i care about, and actually see as friends. i have too many hopes for my future to run away now. i have too much potential for happiness – FINALLY – in my life to ditch it all because i’m hurt and scared and have been told, once again, that i am too much to handle. but it is tempting.
still, i have to believe that somehow, someone out there can handle me. and maybe it IS only my sister that can do it. ok. but i hope there are others who can handle me as well, and will rise up like zombies in the night to surround me with their love and friendship. or maybe they could rise up like something less apt to consume my flesh, but i’m hoping that i’ve finally found a network of friends and lovers that can tolerate my reality.
and if not – if worst case scenario plays out and all my friends turn away from me – there’s always a Motel 6 with a light on i can run to.
One thing I have to discuss here on the blog is this craziness I’ve been talking about. If you’re new to my blog, ha ha, you know nothing about what I’m talking about, and don’t you wish you’d been reading sooner. If you have read a few of my blogs you know that I have frequently discussed being crazy.
I like to be dramatic, that much is true. But I actually am dealing with some mental issues. I’m not an unstable individual, or rather, I am stable enough to hold a job, and most of the people that know me would call me colorful over crazy. But if I told them the real issue, I think they would go “Oooohhh, I get it now”. It doesn’t seem to be a big surprise when I have told the few people I have told. No one has really had a hard time believing my diagnosis.
I have Multiple Personality Disorder. Well, nowadays they are calling it Dissociative Identity Disorder, but it must not be that common still because my computer is not registering the word dissociative. ha ha.
This is a fascinating and curious ailment I have. This last television season, a show that I love called MPD/DID the “granddaddy of all mental illnesses”.
It’s bizarre, surprising, sometimes scary, and sometimes downright hilarious.
I am forty years old, and have spent my entire life hiding this disease, or whatever it is, from everyone around me. Which, trust me, is completely and thoroughly exhausting. It’s no wonder I can only work part time, because dealing with myself on a daily basis is like running a three ring circus.
But honestly, I live a remarkable life. I see life in a way that others don’t, with a perspective that few can understand. I get to experience so many amazing things that I guess are unique to me and those of my kind. I love myself. Finally. I love who I am, and who I’m becoming. I love where I’m headed, and all the crazy shit I’ve lived through to get to where I am.
I hope that others can love me as well. I hope that this condition I have doesn’t make people afraid to love me, or trust me, or be my friend. I hope that people can see beyond the stigma and label of MPD and look at my heart, and enjoy me as an individual, and not fear me for what the paperwork might say about me.
I’ve survived a great many things, and I continue to surprise and amaze myself. I am in the process of writing several books about my life, and this blog is a way to share some of those ideas, writings, pieces of work with others. Maybe I’m trying to get my thoughts in order. Maybe I need a sounding board. Maybe I need attention. Or practice. Or the chance to be writing on a regular basis without worrying about whether or not I will get published. Whatever the reason, here I am putting it all on the line. I hope my story will be interesting, encouraging, inspiring or at least comical for those that read it. I hope these blogs will bring something to readers as well, some bit of laughter or perspective or irony. Anyway, this is the crazy that I deal with, my own brand as I’ve mentioned, and you’re welcome to share in the journey.
I say all of this, because the next blog is an excerpt from a journal entry of mine. It didn’t make sense without all the information I’ve just shared, and I wanted to put it up here, so I had to come clean. It probably still won’t all make sense, because there is much I am not yet sharing, but will probably disclose eventually. So there’s my background piece, and here is the next bit….