I suppose we all knew we were running a little bit out of ‘normal’. Like Bill Engal says about cool: running about fifteen degrees off kilter. It’s always been like that. It’s always been normal.
Being beaten as a child (regularly and fairly often) was normal. All the punishments were ‘normal’. Even the six week restrictions were ‘normal’ – though my friends at the time didn’t think so. They just thought it cruel, and that our parents were being ‘weird’. Overly strict and things.
Having sex as a child … hmmm. Yeah, that seemed kinda ‘normal’ as well – just the kind of thing a kid would do. Nothing unusual about it – something to “hide”, of course (lest the folks find out and get mad) – but normal. Yeah.
Getting bounced around . . . yeah, that seemed kinda normal – living in one place for a few years, then another for a few months – and then a half dozen moves in a few months after . . . leading to living in a place for some years . . . yeah, that was kinda normal. Mostly is for any kind of military dependent family … especially for young kids.
But folks have always said I’m not ‘normal’. “You know that Mikie!” they’d laugh, “Always getting into trouble!” Then later, as a teenage kid: “You know M. Always into something weird.” (Like science and survival and camping and stuff.) Coming up with unusual things to say: unusual outlooks, perceptions, jots and notes . . .
“M. Come to my office please.” Another kick in the pants – or another raise. I never knew which. Usually (come to think about it – and to come down to it) – it was another project that they were wanting me to “add to your plate”. Sometimes I was juggling as many as twenty-five projects at a time. And this was in engineering. The Big Stuff. And Pharmaceutical. You know that one’s big – and we worked for one of the biggest…..
“You aren’t normal,” the guy said, looking at me. We’d just gotten the results of our “herman something or other” brain dominance test. I’d scored impossibly – in two ranges – diametrically opposed to each other. Analytics (science, logic) – and Creativity. Lousy at those human skills, tho’ . . .
Voted “The Most Honest Person” in there. Also “The Most Laid Back” as well as “The Easiest To Get Along With”. (Informal polls, those – most of them, anyway.) Along with being honest.
But being different . . . being multiple . . . being ME.
It kinda sucks sometimes.
No one can truly understand you. From what I know, I represent something like 0.o1% of the population. Now that’s truly rare. And I’ll tell ya something else.
It’s also truly ‘lonely’ in this ‘cage’ I’m in – this one of mind and matter; this body I’m in; these people I “possess”. It’s really weird – here I am, “DID”, multiple personality – so in a sense, I’m never truly “alone” (I can be friends and hold conversations with my ‘selves’ – “we” entertain ourselves a LOT that way … listening without a sound, nothing on but the crickets outside. We find music and TV a … distracting was to live.)
But – who truly knows me? Who truly knows anybody, for that matter? Who knows what thoughts and ideas lurk in those heads; what emotions they are feeling; what they are THINKING . . .
no one does. Not unless they tell you.
And they don’t – not most of the time.
And when it comes to “this stuff” – this “DIDism” and “MPDism” and (old) “PTSDism” and all that … blending it up, mixing it together – managing to stay in control ….
Well, it’s a wonder that I do, I reckon, except I know so many other people are doing better. And worse, I suppose. And everywhere inbetween. It all depends on where they are in their journey – this Journey of Life we’re on ..
But it gets mighty “alone” in here – not to be confused with “loneliness” (which “we” sometimes feel) – but we’re never “alone”. Not inside, not ever. Not by a long shot.
And we kinda like it like that . . .
You can tell nobody how you “feel” – because you feel so many things.
You can’t tell anybody who “you” really are . . .
Nobody can really get to truly “know” you . . .
they are usually confused when you try to explain,
and when you go into those issues about child abuse . . .
Well, it’s more than likely they’re gonna tell you “just hang on” – and walk away like so many other did, never intending on coming back, or ever talking to you again.
Even the abused ones do that sometimes . . . when you give too much sometimes.
And so ….
the therapists and shrinks we all saw – all of them – one by one (except one) – they “quit”, threw their hands up….
for we were indeed “too different” and “resistive to therapy” because
A) they didn’t know what they were doing;
B) they didn’t realize what it takes to keep the system under control;
C) they didn’t know who they were dealing with;
D) and they refused my help in helping THEM understand ME so that they could help me help me help myself somewhat better . . .
Cuz’ that’s what’s gotta be done.
Educating folks. Yeah – people like you, and others – what this “DID” means … that we’re not some kinda Dr. J and Mister Hyde ….
and then maybe it won’t be so lonely anymore . . .
Maybe it would be nice to finally be able to get up and introduce myself as ME – one of many who happens to be one . . . one body, that is – without getting laughed at, thrown into the mental museum, or listening to the shocked silence of “get out of here.”
For once it would be nice to be free . . . of the social stigma, the concerned looks, the gasps and incredulous eyes; the pointy questions – to be able to talk FREELY and say “WE” . . .
and not feel so let down . . . by those all around us. Not their fault; but ours . . .
and I hate it. On behalf of all my selves . . .
for we are all alone.