I once had a dream that I was trying to read a book about dissociation but all the words had been tippexed out. This is such a succinct and perfect depiction of my situation that I’m a little in awe of whatever it is in the brain/psyche/soul/universe that creates dreams. One part of me is trying to investigate and understand what is going on, while another is busy blocking and blanking out all access to awareness and information. Sometimes I start to notice what is happening as it is happening, but often the noticing itself is eaten up by the encroaching blankness. I don’t get as far as thinking “Oh it’s happening again”, it’s more like “Oh it’s -“ BLANK. I come back to consciousness some time later, confused, vaguely aware that I am missing something vital, but not sure what.
All I can do in the face of such a powerful process is to chip away at it, to keep making efforts to acknowledge my experience – not just that it is valid, but that it exists at all. This is why I have decided to start blogging again even though, to be honest, it would be much easier not to. Because I noticed that there was a disconnection between time in therapy and all the other time. It was starting to seem as though I was only able to access feelings in therapy and then, when I left therapy, I was simply unable to remember and reflect on what had happened in therapy. The only way I know how to tackle this is to write about it, and through writing about it make it real, and available to all of me both in the present and the future. I am in desperate need of more communication and connection between selves. The current arrangement simply can’t go on.
So, therapy this morning. It was a difficult but important session. We brought some bogeymen out of the basement and started to look at them. Dissociative Identity Disorder. False Memory Syndrome. All the arguments and controversies about them. These things are twisted up into the fabric of my thoughts, so that I cannot make an assertion without a counter argument cutting me down, so that I cannot feel an emotion without an accusation of lying, faking, making it up. I end up mute and unable to move in any direction. I was able to articulate some of these problems today, and in doing so the sense of being mired in impossibilities shifted a little. I started to see that I need to face up to these things, to find a way through them, and to feel that maybe I could. It is unsustainable to continue to exist while constantly doubting the reality of that existence, while trusting nothing. And yes, I know I have almost certainly realised this all before, and almost as certainly I will have to realise it all again in the future. What can I say, I’m a slow learner.
Something else. A gathering clarity that I cannot continue to be in contact with my family. I’ve just written several sentences about this, and then deleted them. It’s too difficult right now. It makes me feel sick. I’ll have to try again later.