It’s Over

I met with the assistant dean today and was able to withdrawal from the program. The school is not right for me. Now, I just need to pull myself back together. I am not sure what my next step on this journey. I think my parts need to introduce themselves to my therapist and talk about why the fall is such a bad time.

Today, I plan on going home and watching tv. I still do not like leaving the house. Now, I will also be able to use the bike that I have a little every day to build up the strength in my legs.


Stressed to the Max

Today is my first day of field. I am sick and excited all at the same time. I am scared to be here for an entire day. Normally, I can only go about 4 hours and then I will begin to fall apart. Hopefully, I can keep it together.

I have PRN’s, yet I am worried about taking them because they make me sleepy. This is going to be such a challenge.

The kids were over this weekend. My oldest moved downstairs and my youngest got a bigger room. They were happy. Now they each have a tv and either an x-box or a blue ray.

I have had to increase therapy to twice a week. My psychiatrist had stated that he is not going to do parts work with me. I really wonder why he went into trauma to begin with if he wanted to keep a huge divide between him and his patients. My therapist was great about finding an extra time for me to come each week. I am going to need something with all of this stress.

This really is one hour at a time. Then onto class this evening. At least I have off tomorrow. That should help with the stress and the sleep. Now just to see how today goes!

How is This Supposed to Work??

I have one more week until school begins. Luckily, I was able to get all of the accommodations for my disability. That makes me feel better about class. I am still skeptical about parking. So me of the areas near the school are sketchy. I think the anxiety about parking is worse than my anxiety about clinical at this time.

The kids are back with their dad for right now. I am going to try to complete some me prep work for this semester. We had a good time over their visit. I like having time with them. I get to see how they are during the day and what they really do all day. 

Today, I have my appointment with my psychiatrist. We do not see things the same way. I think I am more upset after the visit them before I go in. This person tries, they just do not seem to get it. Even when I say how I am doing I am not believed. There is no trust there!

Another Waiting Room

It seems like I spend a large part of my week sitting in waiting rooms. That is not including the almost hour drive to get to the waiting room.

One waiting room has classical music playing, there is a machine where you can get coffee or tea, magazines, and mints for grounding. The other waiting room is in the middle of a hall. It has one chair and that is all.

The experiences inside of the office are night and day. One is sterile and uninviting. There are so many walls up that I feel I cannot get through. The other is welcoming and willing to talk about what is going on with life. One is willing to share a little of themselves and the other is closed off.

I miss my former psychiatrist. She was interested in my art. She would laugh and she would be empathetic. She was willing to work with a patient and see where they needed to go, then gently guide them there. I feel lost without her. She would have celebrated my accomplishments and been there through the rough times.

The waiting rooms now have me hoping for something more. Some kind of reaction. Some kind of person. Boundaries are a good thing, yet to many keep you separated to the point where there cannot even be a therapeutic relationship. 

I keep hoping that something will change, yet maybe it won’t. Maybe this feeling of loneliness will persist. 

Another new treatment team member

I have really bad anxiety. When my PTSD symptoms and my anxiety combine it is all I can do to email my treatment team.

Yesterday, I saw my psychiatrist. I have only been with him for a few months. He does not have an email that I can use. The only way you can reach him is by voicemail. I hate the phone. Especially if I am out here in public. I do not need everyone around me know that I am having a hard time managing my symptoms.

For me, this is a deal breaker. To the doctor it is a boundary issue. I have not had a therapist and or psychiatrist who I could not email.

I need to look for a new psychiatrist that knows about trauma and who I can email and form a professional relationship with. I may have to get on a waiting list. That is ok as long as I can be treated.

I know that my former doctor had the best of intentions when she recommended him, yet he is not the right fir for me.

A Scary Day

Today, after almost 4 months, I meet my new psychiatrist. I do not trust people easily and I trusted my past psychiatrist with everything. No topic was off limits. Art work often took up an entire session.

She truly understood all of my diagnoses and was not scared or hesitant to go into the really dark places with me.

I wonder if in time, this psychiatrist will do the same. Will he treat me as an individual. Will he listen to me about medication and those that have not worked for me?

Does he believe that treatment is ongoing and that patients go back and forth as to how much better they feel?

Is my art going to be welcomed into the office? Is he going to realize how much my art means to me and much it expresses what is inside and cannot seem to come out into words?

He is supposed to specialize in trauma. What does that mean? Sure he has been trained in how to handle patients with a trauma based illness and he has completed internships. How many patients has he worked with who have had multiple traumas throughout their lives. Who relive their trauma each day through flashbacks, nightmares, and body memories.

It us going to be a interesting first meeting. I most likely have as many questions for him as he does for me. One thing, I hope that he shows passion for what he does.

Hospital Trouble

I know what my diagnoses are and I am comfortable, to a point, with them. I have accepted that I am mentally ill and need treatment.

Currently, parts are having issues with food. A locked unit is not an option at this point. We started to look for residential treatment. We thought that if a hospital treated both eating and trauma that they would accept us.

We were so wrong!!! We have been turned down by hospitals because of the DID diagnosis. We guess that even among the mental health community we are to different.

For one treatment center, I needed to see a doctor and get some tests done. After trying to get an appointment for over a week, I saw a medical doctor yesterday. My scars flipped him out! He actually left the room and they are no worse than anyone may have if they do not self- harm.

A 15 minute appointment turned into 2 hours Nd suddenly he had turned from medical doctor to therapist. All he needed to do was take my pulse and listen to my heart. I told him that I have a therapist and that is what they do.

So, after being turned down by centers, I am down to two. Hopefully one will take me. I really do not want to have to go through another phone assessment again!! Crossing my fingers that this week will end with an a acceptance to treatment. I feel like I am back applying for colleges. I never knew that I could be rejected by psychiatric facilities!! Another lesson:-)

Please Stop Telling Me What Is Going On With Me

In my opinion, my therapist and psychiatrist are good. They listen and try to give assignments and advice that relates to what is going on with me based on what I tell them.


They do not get to see or hear everything that is going on. In my case I have DID. The doctor can be talking to one part while another is shouting about what i or the doctor is saying at the time. My life is complicated. Days run into each other and so do experiences. I realize that the doctor can only treat what I tell them about, yet I have drawings that map my parts and what each remembers. What happens to that information.

Assignments become triggering or irrelevant depending on what it is. I am tired of hearing it will get better with time, For me, it has been seven years. I still have the same nightmares, the same memories, the same fears. I have been working and journaling, yet none of it seems to help. The work just seems to stir more up.

The doctors are so happy that I got out what the assignment was that they do not see the landfall that they have created. I wish that everything could be put into a nice box. That the doctor could say to draw a safe place or write about how I feel and I would feel better. The only problem is that with so many parts, the safe place for one part may trigger memories for another part. All I tend to think, is here we go again.

Then there are the parts that refuse to show themselves. They are buried deep inside and would like to keep it that way. Why bring up the nightmare if I do not have to. Then, I wonder if the nightmare is really that bad. On top of that, the doctor will focus in on that one nightmare. The only problem is that the nightmare is one of many.

Having PTSD is like a choose your own adventure book sometimes. Follow the path of the memory and eventually one will come to an ending. Not always the same ending and sometimes the path diverges. What trauma do you want to hear about today??

Stop picking me apart. Stop telling me it will get better. Stop trying to separate events that cannot be separated. Most of all realize that there is so much more going on besides what you are hearing,

I said to my husband the other day that those of us with DID should be able to live together, It seems like we can often give each other the best advice, esp. on bad days when parts may be fighting. It would be nice to have people to feel “normal” around, Who know what you are going through, Who can give you suggestions on how to talk to your doctor because they have been there.

So to the doctor’s out there. I know that many of you are great, yet you only see a small fragment of us. Please try to listen more and talk less. Maybe other parts have a different opinion. All sides need to be heard before anything can be done!!

Doctor Overload

**May Trigger**


When did going to the doctor’s become a part-time job? That is how I feel anymore. From the therapist and psychiatrist to the rheumatologist, pain doctor, neurologist, and internist, I feel that someone should get something right.

Nine years. That is how long I  have been going to therapy. It always seems like something has triggered one of my parts or my PTSD. I feel like therapy is never long enough and I cannot get what I want out. There are things in my past that I have yet to work on and they just seem to build up.

Then there is the psychiatrist. MY doctor is amazing. Yet, I feel so drained after a second session. For some reason my parts really like her and want to talk to her, yet I feel guilty right now because parts want to draw, yet cannot find the time or a way to do it. They feel trapped with everything else that is going on.

My internist is leaving and I get to get yet another new doctor. I guess I will see if this doctor thinks that all my illnesses are in my head. I am hoping the new doctor is open-minded and takes the results of all of the physical tests seriously. I feel that doctor’s are too quick to blame my mental illness when the physical evidence is right in front of them. Not just in words, but also in pictures.

Then there is the fact that I am just plain tired of all of the testing. How many EKG’s is it going to take with abnormal results before someone does something. I have had over 5 by the way. Anemia keeps coming up, yet none of my doctor’s is treating it. I may not be locked behind the doors of an institution, however; my mental illness is the first thing that the doctors seem to want to know about. I am tired of doctor’s asking me how I came to have PTSD. Some even going as far as to ask what type of abuse? How does this relate to my knee hurting or an MRI that shows abnormalities of my spine?

Sometimes, I feel like I am invisible to regular medical doctor’s. They read my chart and I become some type of sick experiment. If I was not mentally ill, would they take my test results more seriously or would I get different treatment? Sometimes I think so.

So, in the tradition of appointments. I have a biopsy next week along with therapy, I just want some of this to end. No one would want this. I know that I don’t. I am trying to find answers to what I fear is not able to be answered. Therapy is great, yet it cannot take away my memories. Everything cannot be solved with a prescription. Sometimes things are the way they are and the doctor needs to understand that!!

We Are Not All the Same

We Are Not All the Same

**May Trigger**

The shells in the picture are representative of people. People who have not experienced illness, those with illnesses, and those who do not know.
I have Complex PTSD, depression, Fibromyalgia, arthritis. I am not my illnesses.

Yesterday, I experienced yet another weird ailment that I needed to go to the doctor for. The nurse who called me back was not very friendly. As I was returning from using the restroom, I overheard her saying to the doctor that the next patient has anxiety and PTSD. “I bet you just want this to be over.”

Hold on, I am a person like anyone else and deserve the same medical treatment as anyone else. Yes, I have PTSD, yet this doctor does not know me or my symptoms. I have met many people with PTSD along my journey, they are all unique and deserve to be treated that way.

Yesterday, was not about my mental health. I actually had a physical symptom going on with me. I was insulted and then I realized that so many doctors are ignorant. People have become a diagnosis to them. Whether it is mental or physical, they expect everyone to present the same.

As patients, we are all unique. Our diagnosis may be the same, yet we present differently. Just look at the bloggers on here. None of us write the same, yet we are all blogging.

It is just so frustrating that the doctor does not look at the entire picture. He/She looks at fragments of the picture. One day it is the back pain, another a knee, another my loss of balance. In the meantime, I am a whole person and all of this is related.

The only thing that I can do is to fight for myself and fight to be listened to. When I feel that a doctor is ignoring me or not understanding, I am the only one who can make them understand me. I am more than the name of a diagnosis.

Each shell, as each person is unique. Two may seem alike, yet there are always slight differences. It is in those difference that we are each are own person.