I was officially diagnosed with DID like a decade ago.
I never suspected I would have it until my life started to get “weird” in adulthood. I’d have blackouts…but I never ever considered I had DID.
It started with the event I describe in my post about the falling out. I was standing in the kitchen across from my egg donor and her husband.
When he told me it was my fault she almost died by suicide (because of him), and she just stared at me, I felt like something in me changed. But I couldn’t describe it then.
It was like an internal flinch, but I didn’t recognize it as anything abnormal.
Like a light going on when you flip the switch.
It was an alter, Jane — that’s me — came to the front, but she (I) never fully fronted.
(DID is so hard to talk about…I don’t know how to explain this to people who don’t experience it.)
Finding out I had it
I’d be putting in my contacts in the bathroom on a Monday morning, blink, and find myself in the barn on a Thursday evening with horse feed in an old Folger’s can.
On drives home from work, I’d be in the driver’s seat while it felt like someone else was controlling the wheel and gas pedal. Around a bend, they’d make no plans to turn, only to keep going straight — then there would be this weird, inner smirk in my head. Then it’d be blank and I’d be home.
The more these blackouts occurred, the more strange things kept occurring. I started struggling with auditory and sensory processing more.
Suddenly, I was allergic to peanut butter.
I’d drive to work in Terrell and find myself in Mesquite, with no idea how I arrived there.
These episodes were described as “psychosis” until I was diagnosed.
Scared of getting lost
I’m prone to getting lost because I have little sense of direction and can’t survive without Google Maps, cell service, and city roads.
The blackouts didn’t help.
I was so scared of waking up in the night and leaving and getting lost that I started putting things in the floor. I’d keep my room purposely messy so I would trip or fall or whatever instead of getting lost.
I’d quadruple-check the doors were locked and that my truck keys were not easily accessible.
I quit my job a few weeks after seeing (imagining?) a car driving into a ditch in front of the DMV and exploding, and my workplace telling me I couldn’t go home early just because I was seeing things that weren’t there.
Also, they’d scheduled me for 6 days in a row and I needed a break. I couldn’t handle the overwhelm, sensory overload and socializing on top of this new stuff I was dealing with.
When I moved from living in Wills Point with my maternal grandmother, I moved to Garland with my paternal one and stopped driving altogether out of fear.
Therapy and diagnosis
“B*tch” slipped from my lips when a relative kept nagging me about things I needed to do, but it was so uncharacteristic of me to have said it. As soon as I acknowledged that, I blacked out.
The blackouts happened a lot, especially when I recognized uncharacteristic behavior of mine.
I saw a few therapists and obtained a proper diagnosis.
I didn’t accept it at first. Like, I would reference having DID on my blog — but I didn’t fully know what that meant.
So it’s like…I was diagnosed, but what was I supposed to do with that? I’d start chatting in therapy about a topic, then pause. A literal wall would appear in my mind.
Once, I’d heard, “Don’t you dare talk about that,” in my head, and I was so confused and scared. I’d say, “I…don’t think I’m allowed to talk about this,” and my therapist would nod and change the subject.
Therapy was full of walls. I stopped therapy.
Eating disorder recovery really helped clear up my mind. Nourishing my body helped with brain functioning. Like, I was more capable of discerning who was me and who was “someone else”. These other parts of me.
For better or worse, DID TikTok helped me accept my DID…while also pressuring unhealed, people-pleasing parts of me to fit in.
So…I finally accepted my DID? But I was even more of a mess?
I found a former therapist-turned-trauma-coach who introduced me to “shadow work”. I learned how to communicate with my alters and develop a camaraderie.
The memories began flooding in.
I started experiencing a lot of déjà vu despite being in certain locations or experiencing things for the first time.
Horrific nightmares jolted me awake and disrupted my sleep.
Learning to live with it
I’ve spent several years learning how to live with DID.
It requires a lot of systems and self-accommodations in place, plus the acceptance of my inner children.
Healing each alter of their trauma(s) heals them into me. Sometimes that means they stop existing, and that’s saddening.
Boundaries help me protect myself from triggers that cause switching that could be dangerous for me, even if those boundaries seem “immature” to other people.
I find myself in situations where I’m like, “I need more therapy for this,” or, “I’m not healed enough yet to engage in this appropriately,” and step back. If the other person can’t take it, it’s okay.
Trusting my alters — and my alters trusting me — is more important than pushing myself to please someone else who has no disregard for my trauma.
My biggest struggle has been figuring out who I am, feeling like the ways I choose to express myself reflect me, and being okay with people not liking who I choose to be.
Ah — and I’m still allergic to peanut butter. Maybe we always were, maybe it’s because of me. Jane.
I don’t know. DID is weird.
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