Yeah, um, so I did a map of Sheila’s system last week and dragged it into my therapist. With DID, you need to do regular System maps, or “Mapping” (Upgrading), so you know who is closer to you and who is farther away and who knows whom, and who doesn’t want to be known, all the social ramifications of throwing a party, or having a group of friends, except they are all in your head, and then you put them on paper. Breathe. This is just my life. My whole entire life. I had 79 parts. Including parts that had parts that had parts. Parts, like Sheila, who have systems, or sub systems of their own.
It’s confusing, I know. Try living with it. Or, having a serious relationship with DID. I just lost a friend of 20+ years because she wanted my, “bits” (wrong), to introduce themselves to her when I switched so she would know with whom she was discoursing. Um, yeah. Sorry. My system doesn’t even do that for me, Queenie. So, yet another relationship bites the proverbial dust.
Sheila is a part of me that formed when I was 15. See, I fell in love, first love, real love for the first time, ever and since. I loved Dave, but that was all lies. I’ll get to my relationship with Dave. David Dean Smith, the notorious AIDS Killer. Which is horseshit. It’s HIV, people. No one dies from AIDS anymore. It known as HIV Type IV in research now, for chrissakes! The only people who die from AIDS, are the ones that don’t know and don’t seek treatment for their HIV. And they die from Pneumonia, Cancer, etc. just like other people do, just all at once. So, yeah, I was engaged to Dave. Twice. Half my system loved him and the other half of my system didn’t trust him as far as they could throw him. Anyways, having DID and HIV and being a big girl, yeah, the likelihood that I’ll ever get some again? Oh yeah, and I’ve been away from drinking for 6+ years, so, real crowd pleaser. Reeeeeeaaaall crowd pleaser. So, we can thank Dave for the HIV and the Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) and subsequent abuse from my babysitters for the DID. I’m fucked, really. I don’t even know why I get out of bed some mornings. WTF do I have to get up for? Oh yeah! To heal and get this website off the ground and heal and give some other people some fucking hope. Cuz that hope? She is one, cruel bitch.
But yeah. Sheila formed when I was fifteen and I met the love of my life. Never been in a healthy or better relationship since. All steadily downhill. For reals. So, yeah. He’s gone, and happy (I HOPE- there’s that bitch again) and slugging through life like the rest of us sorry basterdz. And then there’s me.
Good news? Down to 7 parts. Was Diagnosed in August of 2008. One of those parts being Sheila- who has her own system/subsystem- whose system is above. So, I have busted my ass to become whole. Integration is what I am aiming for. Even if we can at least all play nice, that’d be great. Sheila and one of her parts (think of it like on ancestry.com, I got a leaf!!!! Well, I got a part of a part) are trying to give me their feelings regarding my first love. See, your parts were invented/created to protect you. I was a messed up kid and this lovely, wonderful, sweet, amazing boy fell head over heels for me. I couldn’t lie or say what I didn’t know…I just knew something was very wrong with me, and he was very right and deserved to be happy. So, I cut him loose. Fucking kills me, I’m shoulda-ing all over myself. But, he deserved a shot with a whole woman. Not a broken young girl. I kick myself for playing God and not giving him a fair choice, but wtf are you gonna do? I loved him, so I set him free. Now, it sucks to be me and I get all moody with many parts and I can’t even have a decent and close friendship.
Wah, fucking, wah. Shut my yap. I know. It’s just where I’m at today. I’m miserable and lonely and embarrassed to walk outside because I’m two bills and change, and I feel like everyone can see through me. I feel like a fraud, so I hide. But with Parts works and Mapping, I can’t hide from myself. Not anymore.
I left Facebook because I needed to heal and I know the general populus does not believe, understand, or even accept DID, because very few people can wrap their heads around the concept of DID, let alone grasp why DID exists in their loved one. Sorry Marty, but I went there.
I’ll say it to the day I integrate or the day I die, whichever comes first- I was a little kid (4 years old to 8 years of age) watching, seeing, feeling, smelling and experiencing HORRIFIC grown up things that even grown ups would find repugnant. And I was four. I’m wickedly creative and insanely intelligent, so I created Parts, parts of me designed to hold and experience the traumas I was enduring because I was too little. I know it’s hard to understand. I know no one wants to talk about it. I know no one wants to believe DID is real.
Everyone with DID is different. Everyone with DID is also remarkably the same. Our systems are all different, and all the same.
Chew on that Koan, and I’ll get back to you…