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Diagnosed with Complex Trauma and a Dissociative Disorder, Emma and her system share what they learn along the way about complex trauma, dissociation (CPTSD, OSDD, DID, Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality), etc.), and mental health. Educational, supportive, inclusive, and inspiring, System Speak documents her healing journey through the best and worst of life in recovery through insights, conversations, and collaborations.
Over:
Speaker 2:Welcome to the System Speak Podcast, a podcast about Dissociative Identity Disorder. If you are new to the podcast, we recommend starting at the beginning episodes and listen in order to hear our story and what we have learned through this endeavor. Current episodes may be more applicable to longtime listeners and are likely to contain more advanced topics, emotional or other triggering content, and or reference earlier episodes that provide more context to what we are currently learning and experiencing. As always, please care for yourself during and after listening to the podcast. Thank you.
Speaker 1:This is Emma. My husband's at the store right now. I can't really do it, so he's gone for me. I thought I would try to record a podcast so I have time by myself. The children are still at school, but I can hear children.
Speaker 1:Someone is crying. Some of them are talking. Someone is laughing and making jokes. Someone wants my hot chocolate. Sometimes I can hear specific things.
Speaker 1:Sometimes it's just all blurred together. I don't remember driving home from therapy. I don't remember therapy. I know we were there. I thought I saw her, and I thought I heard her.
Speaker 1:But then it was like a dream, and then it went away. And then when I blinked, like, just in a moment, time is already gone. And I was in my car, in my driveway, at home, and the outside kids were running down the stairs coming to greet me. They were so excited to see me home, and they were so excited and came running up and hugging me. And I was so glad to hold them and to be close to them and to be home, except that it's a funny thing to come home when you don't remember leaving.
Speaker 1:I'm not even sure how long we were gone. It's snowing today. The days are quiet and still. There's something peaceful about it, the way it blankets the ground, except the leaves that poke through hot me. I don't know how, and I don't know why.
Speaker 1:They're just leaves. It bothers me the way sitting in the foyer bothers me to look and see from the front door how there are stairs going up and stairs going down, like an expanded version of a split level home, except we have a living room right there by the stairs. But still to go up to the bedrooms or down to the den, there's something about that that feels like the leaves in the snow, like something's not right, like something's not now. I don't know what it is. Sometimes these feelings are left in me like clues, But to follow them is to go on a dark path, and it's scary and frightening, and I'm not sure I wanna go.
Speaker 1:And so I don't. Sometimes I try and I focus on something. But the more I try to figure it out, the more blurry it gets, the more dizzy I get, the more fuzzy it all becomes until I forget what it was I was trying to think about, what it was I was trying to remember, what it was I've already forgotten. My husband is leaving town next week for work. He'll be gone for a whole week, and I'm really anxious about it.
Speaker 1:I know I'm an adult, and I can take care of my children, and I love to be with them and spend time together. But they'll go to school during the day, and I'll be home alone all day. And I'll be alone at night after they go to sleep. We have a teddy bear from therapy that our therapist gave us. It doesn't feel big enough for a week without my husband.
Speaker 1:I don't know if I'm strong enough to do it. I don't want something bad to happen or something to go wrong or for me to lose myself or my children. The others are there. They are me, but not me. I am them, but not them.
Speaker 1:We're completely different and completely separate and yet sharing this body in ways I don't know how, in ways that feel so crazy, in ways that I don't want to understand how or sometimes don't want to know. There are clothes that are not mine, shoes that are not mine, jewelry that's never worn, but I find it laying out, makeup that I don't even know how to put on. I don't know who plays the piano. I don't know who plays the cello. I don't know how to do the work that I see on the computer.
Speaker 1:I don't know how my children get their chores done. I don't know when I eat. It's not that I don't eat. It's not that I don't want to eat. I just don't remember eating.
Speaker 1:But I know that I do. Obviously, I do. Sometimes when I go to write in the notebooks for therapy, the table and the desk are covered in crayons, but my children haven't been home or markers, and the children are playing outside or even paints. And this is not what they could have fainted. Sometimes I try to read it to learn what's going on.
Speaker 1:Sometimes the pages blur in front of me, make me nauseous, and my head turns away before I can even stop it. Because seeing the pages or reading what's on them gets too hard so quickly, so easily, but I'm trying. I don't know how there's a house full of people that I cannot see. I don't know how there's a house full of people inside of me. If I could ever remember therapy or know that I was there, I don't know what I would say.
Speaker 1:I'm happy with my husband. I don't have any complaints. He takes good care of me, and he's kind. He's funny, and he helps with the children, and he helps with the cooking and the cleaning. We do everything together.
Speaker 1:He's my best friend. When we have a disagreement, it's just a difference of opinion, and we can talk about it. We don't even have conflicts or arguments. And the children are good. They're not perfect, but they're so well behaved, especially for all they've been through.
Speaker 1:So I don't know what I would say or how I ask for help except with understanding what's wrong with me. But that's what makes it hard Because to understand what's wrong with me is to remember what I can't understand and why all this happened the way it did. Two of my children have some medical problems that mean they're in the hospital a lot. I had a lot of injuries growing up, but nothing like the kind of illnesses these kids have. Maybe that's what I need therapy for.
Speaker 1:That's why I thought I was going to therapy, was from the trauma, like, the medical trauma, from all that we've been through as a family with life flight helicopters and hospital stays and being separated. That's how I lost three whole years. I know I was in the hospital with the baby, but I don't remember that. I mean, I'm aware of it. How can I be aware of something I don't remember?
Speaker 1:That doesn't make sense. Other things I can't remember or be aware of. And other things I remember so clearly, I don't know how I forgot anything else. The only other thing I could think of that maybe I should talk about with my therapist is just about my dead parents. I mean, my parents have died, so maybe I should talk about that.
Speaker 1:My father had some kind of lymphoma, and my mother had ovarian cancer. Not at the same time, but that's how they both died. My father never forgave me, but I don't know for what. I ran away from home when I was 17, and I know that that made them angry. Made my father angry.
Speaker 1:They were divorced. You know? My parents. My mother, who had been unwell for some time, she also had a mean streak. She was addicted to pain pills, and it caused lots of problems.
Speaker 1:But that's just life, right, caring for your aging parents. It was exhausting, and it was hard. I don't know if I did it well, but I know that I tried my best to care for them until they died. But maybe I should talk to her about that. Sometimes when things get really blurry in therapy, I can hear her, the therapist.
Speaker 1:I can hear her telling me her name and that we're in her office and that it's safe. I'm safe at home with my husband in our house. I don't know why it's such a relief to be at the therapy office and be safe there. I don't know why. I don't know why I think that I've been unsafe.
Speaker 1:Today, I learned about DID, that all of us together are called a system, and that each of us individual are called alters, or some people have other names for them. And I learned that some people say plural instead of multiple because it's more inclusive for people who don't have as much amnesia or for people who have DID but are functioning well. I don't know what functioning well would look like for me. Maybe being less afraid, maybe being less anxious, maybe understanding more of what was going on around me and where I'd been and what I had done or where they had been and what they had done. Being able to care well for my husband and children, I guess.
Speaker 1:And my nightmares, I have such nightmares. I would need better sleep to be considered functional, I think. I'm so tired. I had nightmares again last night, but I don't wanna talk about it. But I will say having my husband know about the DID and having a good therapist who's really helping me and that I feel safe with.
Speaker 1:It does feel like for the first time, the ground is beneath my feet. Even though it's also hard and often scary, maybe I just don't feel so alone anymore. I'm trying to make friends on the groups or others with DID or who are no or learning how to be supportive because so many people have helped me. It's not an easy thing, but I'm trying. There's so much to learn, and it's hard to process.
Speaker 1:I try to learn. I try to read some of the articles people have shared or listen to some of the other podcasts or the videos to watch, but too much of it, and it all gets blurry, and then I don't remember. And time has slipped away again. It's like trying to just hold sand in your hand or trying to speak color or trying to see feelings. There's just so much disconnected.
Speaker 1:I listen to the podcast about going to therapy, and the deer, I would have never in a million years thought to look up what that meant, what this simple meant, or to try and change it into something good. I don't know how you do that. I mean, I wanna practice good skills that help, but it's really hard to implement when you just don't know anything. But I'm learning some things. I learned today that I can freeze an orange and then use it as a grounding thing, like smell it and touch it.
Speaker 1:I never would have thought of that. I also learned that one thing that can help feel safe or, like, help with grounding is to turn on all the lights and shut all the doors. I never would have thought of that either, but I tried it today, and it really helped. I guess that's all I can say today. I wanna be more helpful, and I wanna share more.
Speaker 1:But I don't remember therapy, the notebooks are gone, so I can't even read something. But I wanted to check-in and say hello. I'm really grateful for your friendship and your support as I'm learning about this and for the things that you've shared to help me learn. Thank you for listening and being there as we learn together. It's so hard sometimes, but it doesn't seem so hard when we're not alone.
Speaker 1:I guess that's kind of ironic, isn't it?
Speaker 2:Thank you for listening. Your support really helps us feel less alone while we sort through all of this and learn together.