It’s like stepping in for someone at work when you are a waitress. They have all of these tables running, some have drinks, some need drinks, some are waiting to order, some need their food, some need to see the dessert tray, that one guy needs a coffee refill. But you get all of that information in about one minute of time. And you have to get out there and do those things and try harder to remember those things than you have ever tried hard to remember anything. It’s the Friday dinner crowd at a swanky, upscale restaurant at the mall RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS!
So, you just move, hoping the faces you see at the tables and the contents of the table will help you remember as you fly by. Oh, there’s the coffee cup guy. Oh, those people have the remnants of cleared dinner dishes on their table, a few used knives, a bread plate with a piece of crust and an empty butter pat souffle cup. They want dessert. And on and on like that. You race to catch up and make sense of things at the same time.
For me, I just got back to being that regular me who is probably the best me at the day to day things. I wake up at 3:45pm, the day is already half over. I have to figure out what we need as far as foods from the grocery store, AA batteries, printer ink, my beta blockers. What needs to happen right now.
Oh, Rob is up. I can give him a bowl of Lucky Charms to hold him for a bit, as he picks out the marshmallows individually. Then I can assess if he will want a pancake or pizza, as it’s late afternoon. Look around the house. What can I get cleaned up before my mom gets home? I am already worried about seeing her because she came downstairs last night, before we went driving at 5am, all worried and kind of scrutinizing me. As she should have, as I was absolutely dissociated. So, I want her to think it just seemed that way because she was basically asleep when she came down to use the restroom and look at me.
I can get the house pretty well in order and then get the printer ink. I can get the beta blockers while I am out. Oh, the doctor rejected my refill request. Don’t cry, don’t cry. He doesn’t know you have DID and that you weren’t taking the beta blockers consistently until towards the end of the bottle. And that you just realized it was helping tremendously. It was keeping my heart rate down, thus cutting down the number of times I feel this sheer I am in the weeds feeling of near-panic. You guys might know that feeling– running late to a very important thing and you can’t find the papers you need or your keys and wait you need to bring that thing for that lady and grab a bottle of water, and fuck, you need to get gasoline. You know?
Also, it is on my shoulders to stay with this day as me and make it go better than yesterday did. I simply could not do anything about getting Rob to bed. He was far too busy, he was not listening. I checked out by dissociating, which I could feel for the first time. I have to do today right. We have to take our drive at 10pm. Or, fuck, even midnight, at this point. That would be six hours earlier than yesterday. Rob is pushing against going to bed because he knows how many more days of summer vacation are left.
I have to do better today, and do it in a way that inspires confidence in these two around me. Mostly my mom. If she had the ability to put pieces of things together, she could figure out what I have. One night she said I seemed like a completely different person. And she has been looking at me funny when I know I am a different me than usual. I don’t want to tell her because she will not believe me. She will say my therapist told me I have it and it is a scam. She will cling with her last breath to that common dead alcoholic who caused her years and years and years of grief. He damaged her. She remains damaged. But she will cling to whatever romanticized memory she has of him until she dies. Instead of, you know, believing in me. Her world would, I suppose, collapse inside itself and she would have to go to a mental health facility for a nice, long stay.
I am going to take a whole mg of Ativan now, since I don’t have the betas. I am going to make myself eat. I am going to shower. I am going to keep on Rob until we get to Flub’s, the beginning stop of our nocturnal life. After that is the park, then scootering. Then the hardest part. Getting him to get in the car for this fucking drive we do. He will not cooperate. But if I say, okay, now or never, or if I say no driving tonight, he completely goes cold and starts repeating over and over, “Driving tonight, driving tonight, driving tonight,” and he is all set to have a meltdown. It’s like he absolutely needs this drive to exist. But he won’t just go. It can take hours to get him to go. Hours. And that is why I dissociated from it last night. I had decided to try just letting it happen and not getting emotionally involved in the when part. I apparently achieved that by dissociating. And that would have worked great if I hadn’t figured out with the other parts of my brain that I *was* dissociated. And then all of the stuff that went along with that from the last post.
Please alert me of typos.