Tag Archives: confused

D.E.S. results chat

Talked to Dr C about the results from the assessment, and I took it again with her. I scored a 44 this time… we looked up the scoring; doesn’t look like you can score much higher than a 50… I’m not DID though, so…? I dunno. 

I had questioned how reliable my self-report could be if my score changed so much in just a day. I questioned if maybe I was exaggerating things on the questionnaire. She said that it sounded more like I was trying to downplay my experiences (I was talking to her about a few of the questions).  I have trouble quantifying my experiences, so I’m not sure I answer the same way each time. She said that the test was statistically quite accurate and reliable. She also mentioned that one of the underpinnings of dissociation is not being able to remember the act of dissociating. So, I guess that’s another check in the “you’re really fucked up chicky-do” column… :/

She asked if I was worried about a DID diagnosis. I reflexively answered “no” because I don’t see it as that bad & because I’ve seen DDNOS on my records, so others don’t think it’s that bad. I think I’ve talked to her another time about it also, and I think I remember ruling out DID, so there’s that… but on the way home, I kinda panicked about whether her thoughts on it were evolving to lean more towards that diagnosis. I just text her asking if she was seeing DID. I’m not sure she will answer that through text or not, but as long as we address it at some point, I think I’ll feel better about it. 

I know my dissociation can be severe at times because I’ve completely lost days, weeks, and even months in the last decade. I guess I just don’t think it’s that severe all the time. I don’t see too much evidence pointing to DID other than L’s frustration around never knowing what to expect from me in terms of likes and dislikes…

We chatted more about dissociation and the functions of it. We talked about other coping skills for handling the body sensations and the flashbacks. I think she kinda came to the conclusion that even my healthier coping skills utilize dissociation to a degree. We talked about the writing and the art, and how I often don’t really remember what was created. We did differentiate the “flow” of creating vs more dissociative aspects of it. I think with both the art and the writing, part of the creative process is having no real direction and letting the piece take over its own evolution. It’s when I can’t recall writing something (like a blog entry) or creating something, that the dissociation plays a bigger role in that coping strategy… there are definitely some things I have to look at over and over again because they seem familiar, but I don’t connect to having made them.

Dr C commented that dissociation, especially such intense dissociation, takes a lot of energy. I countered that it’s actually the least draining of my coping skills, but now that I think about it, I wonder if that contributes to the constant exhaustion. I know some of it is the depression, but maybe she’s right; maybe the dissociation is exhausting as well. 

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About therapy last night (**trigger warning, talk of: abuse, self harm, past suicide attempts)

There was a moment of soul-crushing pain. It felt like my chest may cave inward. I could barely breathe through it… no. Just no. I spent the last hour (?) telling her things… they are impossible fictions. I’m not sure why I need to lie about this stuff, but I just do.
They’re not consistent stories. They’re not complete. Some I’m aware of as scripts (I didn’t actually remember them at the time, I’ve just read what I’ve written in the past enough times to be able to recite them. There’s no emotion. I just know what I should be saying)…

I can’t sleep again tonight.
I think we got home around 10:30. We didn’t come to bed till about 11:30. It’s 2 and I’ve already been awake for 20 minutes. I wish I could sleep. But I’m confused about the session last night. And the body memories are loud right now… right now, I can feel the scripts I was reading earlier. There’s a physical aspect to them. The emotional is just tired and spent (and maybe a bit scared).

I just want to sleep.

Please just let me sleep…

There was another point in session where she suggested an activity that involved tracing my body outline onto a large piece of paper. I nearly sunk into the chair and ran out of the room at the same time. In that moment, the thought of laying down on my back to be traced was utterly terrifying. Body memories flared up throughout every part of me. I could feel being held down. I could feel being touched. I could feel the panic… I wanted to curl into the tightest little ball ever. I wanted to hide. I wanted her to just stop describing the activity because no matter what words were flowing from her lips, I was sure it meant even she would hurt me.

I want to rip the skin off my entire body. I want to stab my legs. I want to open my arms up and let all the blood flow out. Part of what I felt and remembered last night must have been one of the hospitalizations. I felt tubes hooked to my arms, and a fuzzy, sleepy feeling. I didn’t want to wake up again. I really, really, really just wanted to fall asleep and not ever wake up… must have been from that time I OD’d for the first time… it would make sense for the emotions that came up on the way home once I was finally grounding… the emotions and the situation fit nicely into the OD attempt from 2007 (last night, L was out, I was supposed to meet her there after therapy. Therapy had been really unsettling and triggering. I thought about not going to meet L. The urge to self destruct in more ways than one screamed in my head. I thought it would actually work before she would be able to get home… I really just wanted to fall asleep and not wake up again). So instead I called her once I was home (I thought about calling her on the way home, but I was using really loud music to help ground. I needed to keep it loud till I got home). I got directions and managed to ask her to give me clear instructions on what I needed to do and where I needed to go. I got lost trying to get to her anyway – a place not 7 minutes from our house, but I messed up twice and ended up towards the other end of the road (near the hospital). I was still checked out at the time I arrived. I was supposed to help out, but it was getting late, and I was in no space to do anything that might require competence. I sat outside on the porch instead. I stayed there until I could finally feel the chill. I would have stayed there until it was time to go if L hadn’t come to chat and tell me to come inside even if I wasn’t going to volunteer…

I’m so exhausted, but I just can’t sleep. I feel like I need to keep talking about the things we opened up in session. Except when I go to talk or write about it, I freeze. I’m scared. It’s hugely triggering. It’s also something I shouldn’t indulge if it’s a story I’ve made up… yet there’s this really strong internal push to keep talking. I dunno…

I’m scared. I’m scared of continuing to address this, but also scared not to address it. I’m scared either will land me inpatient again. Both feel potentially hugely triggering, but one will trigger self-destruct out of fear of what’s being communicated, and the other will trigger self-destruct out of anger at ignoring things again…

Suddenly, I’m remembering Catherine. She was a case manager(?) At one of the hospitals I was at back in 2009. I only remember working with her one time, but apparently I was assigned to her more than one stay. I want to say maybe she was told more than I remember. I know she felt safe that second time (even though I thought I was meeting her for the first time)… she argued with the psychiatrist about the ect he was trying to force me into that time, and fought to get me into a trauma program out of state.

I wish the body sensations would stop. They don’t let me sleep (well, them and the chaos in my head). They are closing in on intolerable level… it’s nearly 3 am now. I can’t believe I’ve been babbling on for so long… it’s helping though. It’s helping stop the circles of thought. At least getting them down gives me a safe place to store them so maybe I can sleep at some point… Maybe I need to try to see the aprn at Dr C’s office and get something for the sleep… it’s been too many nights of poor sleep, and too many days of not being able to eat much of anything. Maybe I should try herbal tonight? Might be an improvement over the lack of sleep… I dunno. I really just want to be able to sleep.


Echos

It’s been a while again, hasn’t it?

I ended up being able to ask for some more of what I needed, though it was incredibly difficult. I did it with Dr C’s help, but didn’t stop shaking for about 3 hours afterwards.

Visited my mom, and that was difficult. She’s in a tight spot but I don’t know what I can do to help. I worry about her a lot. I wish I could do more.

Pretty much been working or helping people out since my return from the trip. I’m exhausted…

This morning I woke to echos of the past. They’re different though. It’s not the flashbacks and memories of my childhood. Instead, it’s memories and feelings of the times I was in and out of hospitals. It’s a feeling of… I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s a “hospital hangover” without having been there? It’s a weird, floaty, disconnected, being-in-two-places-at-once feeling… and my chest is heavy and breathless… and my head feels foggy. It’s an intense memory that’s just out of reach. I can feel things on/in my body, I vaguely hear the bustle of an emergency room (complete with monitor sounds and medical personnel), but it’s out there, like I’m hearing it from a semi-conscious state. Maybe it’s remembering the time I OD’d, or one of the times I was severely dissociative and hospitalized? I dunno…

It’s weird and it’s throwing me off.

I feel like I should be elsewhere…

————–

I had text Dr C earlier mentioning some of this. I hadn’t meant to worry her, but I did 😦 she called a bit ago. I didn’t know how to describe what’s going on. I managed to get a bit of it out, and she suggested I call her if it gets worse, or if I want/need to talk. I hate worrying people. That wasn’t my intent with the text, I was just trying to reach out 😦 kinda glad she called though. Glad I could kinda come up with some words around what’s going on… I wish I wasn’t so disconnected. I feel like I’m on the verge of autopilot. Can’t afford that right now. Need to stay here and grounded. Work later today should help…


losing understanding

Recently (like in the last 4 months or so), something weird has been happening to me when I get stressed, mostly when I start to dissociate: I can be listening to someone, but what they say suddenly no longer makes any sense. I can understand the individual words they are saying, but cannot put meaning to the sentence or sentiment. It most recently happened in my last therapy session. TL was asking me questions, and I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I told her this, and she suggested that maybe she was being too abstract in her dialogue. Since I have not worked with her long, I kinda just went with it (maybe she is and I’m just stressing a lot in session). But this wasn’t the first time it happened to me. It has happened before with De also, and sometimes it happens when I’m talking to people about other random things. I can hear the words, I can know I know their individual meaning, but I can’t string those meanings together to get the full gist of what the person is saying. It’s very frustrating.

Has anyone else had anything like this? It’s kinda disturbing…


therapy today

would it be bad of me to let her know I lied? I’m not sure what I want to accomplish by telling her… Maybe it’s just that lying to her is not sitting well with me. this ending is really kicking my ass.  I’m spiraling out, and I don’t know how to get a grip from it. other endings have not sucked this bad. I don’t know what to do with it. When I try to talk to her about it, she just tells me that she is sorry it’s so hard, and that I need to separate it from the other loss in which it’s so entwined. only, I don’t know how to do that…


Awkward intake

Had my intake at the new agency today. It was really awkward. The clinician doing it was very difficult to talk to. It didn’t help that I kept getting confused, and couldn’t remember the date even after writing it on about 6 pages… the wait time also went up to 2-3 weeks instead of the one week the guy mentioned over the phone. I don’t know if I want to keep doing this…


muddling through

It’s a rough transition.  Both L and I are struggling with the concept of being separated.  Both of us are struggling with our environments and our inner demons.  But both of us also seem to be finding a way through.  I wrote a really long but honest blog to De today.  It helped a lot to simply know that she will know all of that, to know that I was honest and putting things out there in hopes of getting support.  It’ll be an uncomfortable session on Friday (because a lot of it is surrounded by huge amounts of shame), but at least I’m being honest and trying to figure things out.

I’m very aware of my neediness and my mal-adaptive thought patterns, but I am having trouble changing them all by myself.  Awareness is the first step though.  I am hoping she can help me with the changing piece.  I was able to ask for some specific things directly for probably the first time ever.  I was able to identify specific things, how they would help, and what I would like to ask from her around them.  That’s not an easy thing for me.  I often have trouble identifying and admitting to my needs.  I think it comes from a combination of having them either flat-out denied (by being told that they are not actually my needs, and my needs are something else), or having serious consequences for voicing them.  I can remember a number of times when my opinions were denied and corrected (some as recent as a few weeks ago). It’s an interesting dynamic that happens in my family.  I will say something along the lines of “I need to talk to someone about X” only to get the response: “No. That won’t help. You need to do Y”  Even if I give concrete examples of how Y has been counter-productive, it is insisted that I really do want Y, just afraid to say it. When someone hears things like that often enough (and the person is forceful enough), they learn to change their desires to fit what is being insisted upon.  I guess this doesn’t happen so much if you have no history of abuse, but it certainly happens with me.  I lose the drive to argue when no argument in the world would help my case.