Sunday, 12 February 2017

Dissociative Identity Disorder.


Living with Dissociative Identity Disorder (or Multiple Personality Disorder) is extremely challenging at times. I often struggle to vocalise what’s going on in fear of people thinking I’m strange and then running for the hills. I promise you I am not going to attack you. One part of me might say really horrible stuff and scream and yell at you, but I will never lay a harmful finger upon you. If you’ve ever watched Sybil or Split you’ll probably know why I’m so apprehensive about being open about my illness. There is a real fear that once you associate those characters with myself you’ll just see me as a maniac who will lock you up and torture you. I need you to keep in mind that movies and television shows tend to dramatise characters and situations. If they genuinely displayed the truth then I’m afraid it might be a tad boring and you might have wanted your expensive ticket refunded.

The basics of this disorder is that no sufferer is exactly the same, which when you think about it makes sense because no single person is exactly the same. Some sufferers just dissociate in the broadest sense of the word meaning they go into day dreams (or nightmares). You yourself may have experienced getting into your car and driving from A to B but then being unsure of the journey. It’s just like that but with trauma victims the act of dissociation is to escape the relentless abuse. When I was 10 I learned that it was easier to look up at the ceiling and pretend the walls were a white sandy beach. I’d pretend that the disney characters dotted on my walls were telling me a magical story. It’s a survival mechanism which everyone has in order to get through traumatic experiences. But the problem with learning this response is that even now that the abuse isn’t as frequent, I still dissociate to hide from the trauma. When I get triggered by anything I tend to dissociate and lose time. My brain is utterly convinced the trauma is still going on and therefore I overreact to a perceived threat. It doesn’t even have to be a real threat. And this is where life becomes incredibly hard to manage because losing time and dissociating when there isn’t an actual threat means my quality of life is very small.

For me Dissociation has altered my whole life and my sense of inner safety. I have to plan my days and be able to carry a lot of grounding tools with me at all times. These tools are ones I’ve developed along the way and most of them I’ve learned whilst in hospital. When I start to get dissociated I need to be able to ground myself to the here and now. It’s useful to access all senses; touch, sound, smell, taste, and vision. For smell I have smelling salts which jolt me back to the now because they smell vile and I have lavender balancing that out by being very calming. I have teddy bears, play dough, a fidget cube, a twist and lock block, and marbles to feel in my hands. I carry around mints, water, and chocolate for taste. For sound I have recordings on my phone to listen to, I have a squeaky ball, and also my fidget cube makes noises too. And finally for vision I usually use whatever is in my environment at that time, a light up cushion, and I also have a small bouncy ball that I can play catch with. One item I have found very useful when I’m at home or in hospital is my weighted blanket. The only way I can describe it is that it’s like a tight loving hug and I feel safe wrapped inside it. Please do feel free to utilise these ideas for yourself because they don’t just help with dissociation but also Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorders, etc. If you are unsure where to find them then do contact me.

The biggest part to my illness is having other parts or alters. Now before I describe them I want you to know that these identities are incredibly valuable to me. They help me to get through difficult situations but I admit that sometimes they do get it wrong. I’m still learning about how to stay safe when intolerable emotions are at play. At the moment I have six parts; Jacob (6), Anna (8), Ruth (12 3/4), Olivia (14), Alice (17), and Louise (19). They all have very different ways of coping and they all see our world through different eyes. If you know me personally you might have noticed that my reactions to you change very quickly and that one minute I love you and the next I ignore you completely. I want to apologise for this confusion but know that me as Sophie wouldn’t dream of saying such hurtful and abnormal words. I also want you to know that in those situations it can be helpful to validate why I reacted that way and for you to help me to ground myself. It’s much easier for me to manage when the person who I’ve spoken to in a dissociated state is able to relay what happened so that I am aware of my actions.

Alice is the angry part of me and the one a few of you have met from time to time. She can be hurtful at times but that’s only because she’s hurting herself. Her role is to act and by this I mean that during the abuse I couldn’t hit my father and I couldn’t run from him so Alice came about incase we ever need to defend ourselves and run away again. The problem with Alice is that I have lost friends through her behaviour. She’s not so great at acknowledging that the threat isn’t still there. If she thinks you’re going to leave and reject us she can get very defensive and quite nasty. She is also impulsive and absconds, goes missing, and takes huge overdoses on tablets and alcohol. Louise is slightly older but a very fragile part. She is unwilling to talk out loud because she fears our abuser will hurt someone else if she opens her mouth. She’s very low and lacks energy to do things. She loves our abuser and thinks incredibly highly of him which is difficult for me to feel at times. She is the writer and the artist. She is the part I try to protect the most due to how vulnerable she can be to abusers. Then there is Ruth who is incredibly anxious most of the time. She has a number of OCD rituals that she absolutely must do because she believes bad things will happen if she doesn’t. She also controls our food intake and is linked to my Eating Disorder. She’s highly suspicious of poison being in our food and drink due to our abuser poisoning us in the past. She’s incredibly intelligent and thinks with a scientific and problem-solving mind. 
Olivia is the most level-headed part. She is able to see the grey areas very easily and brings heaps of rational thought to the table. She loves animals and would rather not be around people forever if that was an option. She just loves her own company and I try to respect that as much as I can. Being forced into hospital a few days ago made her upset and frustrated because she hates being watched by people and being confined inside with minimal access to the outdoors. We then have Anna who is my little ray of sunshine. She’s joyful and happy a lot of the time which balances out the anger and sadness. If you’ve ever spent time with her you will know how much she loves talking to people and playing with her teddies. Every night she puts them into rows and then tucks them in. She’s sad at the moment because she wants to go home and I feel incredibly powerless due to being under a Section 2 of the Mental Health Act. She’s terrified of the big people on the ward and wants to play make believe with children of her age. Finally there is Jacob who is a relatively new part and I don’t know much about him. He feels like a mixture between Anna and Alice; playful but throws a fair few tantrums now and again.

With all these characters comes arguments and a bit of a tug of war. Most of the time I just hear voices in my head arguing. I do try to balance out my attention to meet all their needs however, sometimes I have to accept not everyone will be fine with my choices. But that’s life and sometimes you can’t please everyone. Living with chaos is difficult and sometimes I have to give up the control to Mental Health professionals and allow friends to help me. I do see this as a failure but I need to remember that asking for help isn’t a bad thing. Losing time and dissociating is very dangerous when in the community. I end up taking overdoses and cutting myself whilst in another personality state. I have to be incredibly mindful of how much medication I have in my flat to notice if some or all have gone missing. It’s exhausting being me but it’s also an adventure too. Trauma may have caused all this but I’m learning to manage and collect the broken pieces up to mend myself with gold. To end up being far more strong and beautiful than ever before. With time, patience, and therapy I aim to move forward and learn ways to manage my illness safely. I probably will never lose my disorder but it will eventually become easier to manage. 

Trauma might have broken me but I am stronger from it.

Tuesday, 7 February 2017

When the Lights Go Out.

Somebody had to be the first one to say it's over. Somebody had to break and tell the truth.

People ask me all the time why I left my family or rather why I had to leave them. It’s always that lingering question that causes an uncomfortable silence because I can’t say it out loud. I’ve told my story many times in the last two years and each time I wish I could have been strong enough not to. I wish so much that I was one of my sisters because why did I have to be the one that had to walk away? Why did I break the silence and finally tell the truth? Maybe I am weak and maybe they are strong. But essentially I made my choice to walk and turn my back on my entire family to simply speak the truth. Imagine that? You say one sentence of what actually happened and suddenly the people you love turn their backs on you and make impossible for you to return.

Somebody had to try and be brave and somebody had to take the blame. Somebody had to leave, I just hate that it had to be me.

A lot of people have repeatedly told me how brave I am for speaking out and not hiding away. How brave of me to do the ‘right’ thing by law. But I feel like a total idiot for reporting. You see if you end up losing your entire family, including extended family, I don’t think you’d think it was a brave move. Because if you lived a day in my shoes you would not feel brave. The moment you awaken you are hit with abandonment and loneliness. You have no one. And you spend your days holding crumpled photographs willing the people inside them to come back. Tears all over your childhood teddy bears. It’s not brave to report your family. Well at least for me it was incredibly stupid. And now I’m forced by family members to take the blame for my actions. Lets forget the person who abused me, because abuse doesn’t happen in a happy family. No of course not. The girl is mental, isn’t she? She must have made it all up. What a complete nutcase, yes? What an elaborate lie.

I had to walk away from that revolving door. It only takes me right back to where I was before.

When I lived at home I was in and out of hospital for Paracetamol overdoses. I was the revolving door patient because I was desperate for my own mother to care if I died. The problem was that she clearly couldn't care less and so I kept taking more and more tablets. Each time I sustained liver damage so bad that sometimes doctors feared for my life. That would have been a blessing. Living in a house where you might as well have been invisible was soul destroying. This loneliness filled the most heartbreaking moments of my life. The abuse was nothing to that feeling of not being loved and not being cared for. I nearly starved myself to death in front of my own mother and she ignored it. My arms were covered in dark red scars and she completely turned a blind eye. I was that loved and that wanted by her. She didn’t fight for me. No one in my family did. Sometimes I wonder what made me so unlovable. What did I do wrong? I tried to be perfect and in doing so I destroyed myself. 

When the lights go out and I struggle with the silence. 

At night I struggle to sleep because the silence is too deafening. I usually cry myself to sleep most nights because I miss having people around me. I think a lot of people take their families for granted and I did too. You only realise the loss when it’s taken away from you and the other people have the control as to whether it will ever return to you. So I spend every day hoping they will make contact. Hoping this is all one terrifying nightmare and I’ll wake up one day back in my butterfly covered bed. Nighttime is my riskiest time of day. I tend to dissociate much more at night which makes me more vulnerable to acting on my suicidal thoughts and urges. In the day I seem to manage from the outside but still my head is tortured by a choice I was forced to make. The abuse came first but guess who’s alone in the dark? Guess who lost everything the day she asked for help? The one with the bruises and the pain between her thighs. The girl who lost her virginity at 10. That’s me. It’s not a fair deal but it’s all I’ve been given. This is why someday soon I must leave. And it’s not a reflection of anything people could have done to save me. I think I’ve always known that trauma will be the death of me. Don’t blame yourselves.

It’s going to be okay soon and I will be sleeping safe and sound. 

This might well be the last article I write and I suppose it’s only fitting to make it short and sweet. I know I will be okay soon and I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I’ve always appreciated the support I’ve been given throughout this ordeal. Me going away isn’t a reflection of poor support. It’s a reflection of the life I have had and the abuse I have sustained over large periods of my life. It’s a refection of my family giving up on me because I stood alone in the truth. And maybe one day they will change their minds but I’m not waiting for that to happen anymore. I know I will never receive the family I wanted but I love them all the same. It’s not their fault, it’s mine. I’m a complication and I’m the faulty gene. I’ll be okay. I promise.


When the lights go out.