It’s been a while. I have to admit, I got a bit discouraged when I’d been blogging for a couple of months and still hadn’t gotten any comments. But really, I’m mostly doing this for myself and no one else. Any readers who ever happen upon this site will just be a bonus.
I notice that at this point, whenever my poor doctor says anything, I completely and totally miss everything he’s said and come away feeling like I’ve just confirmed once again that he knows I’m evil and he can’t stand me. Also in recent news, it seems that as a complication of my C-PTSD, I ended up with Dissociative Identity Disorder. I’ve had the symptoms for most of my life and a previous long-term therapist diagnosed me with it long ago, which is where I first heard of it. I googled it at the time and read somewhere that “dissociation is zero percent genetic.” But I guess it doesn’t matter, since here I am and I have to get better. DID became a talking point two weekends ago when I woke up on maximum precautions and had no idea where I’d been for the past week. Then my doctor came back that Monday and he had a very clear memory of what happened. It seems that I have an ego-state that is hellbent on committing suicide. I, the primary owner of this body, may not want to die, but I have a body-snatching alter that doesn’t care what I want. This is massively problematic when it comes to discharge, so it seems that I’m going to be institutionalized for at least the next several years if not the rest of my life. I’m finding solace that I will adapt. Spiritual Care gave a presentation today and mentioned “the peace that surpasses all understanding.” I read in The Happiness Hypothesis that after a major life event like winning the lottery or abruptly becoming quadrapelegic, people return to their baseline level of happiness pretty quickly. A life in the state hospital might not be what I was originally hoping for, but I can bring my values with me and be a state-hospital-patient that brightens the lives of other patients and staff alike. I can bring empathy, honesty, and humor with me wherever I go. It does sadden me that my first thought when I found out I was going to be locked up for years was, “My parents are going to have a field day with this!” But, I suppose it’s beating a dead horse to reiterate how sucky my parents are, and the best I can do is keep them from finding out for as long as possible so I don’t have to think about all the horrible things my mom is saying behind my back.
Anyway, returning to my conversation with the doctor. I mentioned today that I usually know long before anyone else that I’m sliding into that suicidal ego-state. The voice behind my internal narrative changes and there are other changes in my thinking that give it away. I pointed this out to my doctor today, and said I was scared because once I’ve switched, the Me that is writing this has no control and everything I do is only motivated by suicide. The Me that is writing this uses coping skills. Suicidal Me does not. It doesn’t want to and has no reason to, because coping skills reduce the risk of suicide. So I asked my doctor what to do. He said that I can just continue doing my best not to switch into that alter, and if it happens it happens. That’s why I’m not leaving the hospital. They’re going to keep me here, where if I do anything to harm myself, they can resuscitate me. He understands that I can’t control this and that’s why I’m here. I asked if I should tell staff when I notice ominous changes to my internal voice, and he said I could if I wanted to. But he’s not going to just put me on precautions simply because I’m concerned that I might switch. If he did that, then I would be likely to constantly worry that I might be a risk to myself, and constantly put myself on precautions. I said that I was scared that my body-snatcher would kill me, and he just kept saying that that was the reason I was in the hospital. At first, I took that to mean that he didn’t care when I was afraid I would kill myself. I think now that his point actually was that I’m safe here.
Spiritual Care asked us in group today what we were thankful for. I had way more things than I could get through in my share of the conversation time. But I did say that I was thankful for Dr. X, “even though he pisses me off every single day.” I was homeschooled by severely mentally ill parents and I’m not used to authority figures actually knowing better than me. I’m used to being forced to fight every single limitation because they are being set with the intention of breaking the spirit of a strong-willed child. I don’t like being in my thirties and having to learn for the first time how to be cared for, but I suppose it’s better late than never.
