A Walking Contradiction
Three years and some months ago, I received a diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder that changed my life from then on out. The entire chemistry of our brain was altered permanently over 45 years ago, and the effects are still present today. It consumes my daily life, my nighttime, and my energy. But yesterday, my husband told me that he forgets sometimes that I have D.I.D. I mean, can you imagine saying something like that? How very dare you… oh wait…
So do I.
Okay, well, it’s not that I so much “forget” I have it, but I still have periods and times that I don’t believe I have it. Maybe I’m faking it, or maybe it’s normal to hear conversations with different voices of different genders in your head, forget who you are, or not recognize yourself in the mirror. It’s hard for others to understand how you can have several people living in one body. It’s hard for us to understand, too. It’s unimaginable to think that the brain can do things like that. And it’s worse to imagine that it was designed as such. And yet, other days, I wish I could forget I have it. Just for a day to know what it’s like to hear only your thoughts, see only things in your brain when you choose to, and have your own identity with likes and dislikes without questioning if the fact that you like sweet pickles wrapped in a Kraft single is even you or someone else? But how would I ever return to normal if I was granted that day?
If you speak to anyone I’ve ever lived with, they will give you a different version of who they know. I have been described as “extroverted” and “introverted”; “unable to commit” and “serial monogamist”; “sweet” and “intimidating.” “Easy going” and “rough exterior.” Yet, most would agree that I was “crazy.” But I was never crazy; no one in our system is crazy. We’re just not the same person(s). Libi loved partying; Cassie hated going out. Asa wanted to date around; I wanted a partner and family. Lily is incapable of hurting a bug for any reason; Deia would slit a man’s throat for laughing at her. I wasn’t moody that day; I was switch-y. I wasn’t a childish adult crying in a closet; a confused, frightened child was hiding. I wasn’t throwing a fit; an autistic teen was unable to communicate. I wasn’t masculine; a male had taken the role of host. I wasn’t immature; a child was in my place. I wasn’t mature for my age; I was traumatized.
But for the people that lived with and around me, it was ‘normal’ for their Angie to be silly, overly sensitive, or an acquired taste. It was normal for Angie to have mood swings or unexplained nightmares. It wasn’t unheard of for the person they thought they knew to flake out on plans, jobs, or relationships. To them, it was normal that their Angie both loved life and prayed for death to end our hell on any given day. What one knew as an angel, another knew as the devil. Both and neither are correct simultaneously.
So, even though my husband and I have been together nearly as long as I’ve been diagnosed, it would stand to reason that even he would forget sometimes. This would particularly be true, I would imagine, if I’ve had several days, etc, where there’s been minimal triggered switching in a row. It almost lulls you into a false sense of security. The person on the other end starts to forget that their partner isn’t always their partner. And what they say may not always be heard by the ears you want to hear it; what you do may not always be seen by just one pair of eyes.
I know that for decades I came across to people as impulsive or unpredictable. That’s only because I was impulsive and unpredictable. Looking back now with the pieces filling in some of those gaps, it makes sense how we would stop having intense feelings for someone like shutting off a… that’s right… SWITCH. I spent so much time in a confused fog, not understanding certain things. For example, why couldn’t I remember anything about a relationship that I had just gotten out of or why someone would know things about me, but I’d have no idea who they even were? That kind of shit helps contribute to feeling like you’re crazy. We were all so desperate for anyone to hear or see us. We had no idea what was going on, what we had done that made someone mad.
When another person's energy changes around you, trauma causes you to search the whole confines of your brain, actions, thoughts, feelings, words, and numbered breaths. We can feel energy shifts amongst people, and when it shifts to a negative energy, regardless of the reason, it signals that something terrible is about to happen. That signal sets off alarms in our system that someone young is triggered. That triggered alarm causes someone to run from wherever they are in the headspace to the Front room to see if it’s their job to handle it. That chaos confuses trying to determine, person by person, who ‘caused’ that other person to get upset. Because by this point, that’s what it comes down to: we have done something to make them mad but don’t know what. The only certainty is that it must be something because why else would someone be mad? Plus, in our vast experience, when someone is angry it usually was something that one of us had done that was against the character that the person thought they were getting. They’d sign up for Minnie Mouse and be disgruntled when they got the Tasmanian Devil. Even if it was something that Minnie should have never had to accept and Taz was trying to protect her from.
Trying to retrain your brain not to do something that is a lifelong habit is challenging. But when you have D.I.D., it’s not only a matter of over-thinking. It’s a matter of several people in one confined headspace overthinking simultaneously. On the outside, this all tends to come across as me looking “timid,” “in trouble,” or “agitated,” primarily if we can’t determine the reason. We then will go into the next phase of testing the waters to see if it’s personal to us. Based on the energy and response received, determine how much further discussion and thought needs to go into fixing it. Because, after all, we need to kiss the feet of anyone who can stomach to be with us longer than a month. And while that may be true in some cases, we also have a lot to offer; we didn’t ask to have a fucked up brain, and we are wildly talented, compassionate, fun individuals once the fear subsides. Is it worth it to be in a relationship with us? Who knows. Ask my husband because he’s doing it every day without giving up. On the hard days especially, for this, I am grateful.
Be kind to those you meet. You never know what battle they’re having to fight today.
Peace,
Angie & Circusystem
