Monthly Archives: September 2012

Windchimes again

Perhaps this is what the warning was for.

Everything going sideways.

I think it was from Audrey.  I’m so sorry Audrey.  I’m sorry for everything that happened to you, for everything you went through.

I understand why you went away.

Sometimes I think about joining you.

Sometimes I think we should all join you.

But I know that’s wrong and bad.
It’s just…everything She did…everything She didn’t.
I don’t understand how it means nothing to Kit and Midori and Serefina.  We lost Audrey over everything She did.  Sweet, soft, gentle Audrey.  Audrey who only ever loved with every bit of herself as deeply as she could.
And all it did was hurt her.  And destroy her.

Then there was Cordelia.  Our darling. Our light. Our life. Two against the world.
…I didn’t know my heart could break this much.  And now the anniversary is approaching, rearing it’s ugly head and reminding us of all the ways we aren’t good enough.

Rika has a theory that Audrey and I are twinned (Shadow Dragon talks about that concept occasionally).  I guess I can see that.  It would explain why I only have felt like half of a whole since she’s been gone.

Maybe if I keep talking to her…if I don’t act like she is gone…maybe Audrey will come back.  She could come back and fix everything…


(warning for Rika’s language, as per usual)

Sometimes I hate being the fucking protector.  Claire’s in the goddamn corner, curled in a ball, crying and apologizing to an imaginary Audrey like she’s fucking schizo.

All because of a fucking phone call.

I tried to not let goddamn Kit answer, but then Charlotte and Middi got behind her and I was fucking pushed back like I’m nothing.  Really bruises a protector’s ego, you know?

Kit’s determined to prove that she can “be normal” and carry on a “casual conversation” with Her.  Goddammit Kit, you don’t have to.  She lives in a different fucking state. It doesn’t fucking matter.

Charlotte and Middi mostly want to prove to themselves that they can “not care” or something bullshit like that.  But all it does is put the system into a tailspin that we definitely don’t fucking need.

Why is she calling us?

Well, I listened in on the whole goddamn conversation and it was stupid bullshit.  Just stupid life updates.  Yeah, she mentioned Kally which had Kit flicker back and I got excited, thinking I could fucking wrestle control, but Middi easily stepped up for a bit before Kit settled down.  So I got jack-shit.

Then she ends with some goddamn offer of us playing this stupid role-playing game over Skype with her and some of her friends. Ugh. Fucking…just fucking no. I don’t care if Middi is interested (girl has a strange interest in gaming for being a fucking loner).  It’s not fucking happening.

I’m putting my fucking foot down.

Hear that, everyone? The protector’s foot is down. Ya’ll ain’t going nowhere. Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.

Monogamy vs. Polygamy (in our DID world)

Recently, I’ve been reading about how most persons with DID/MPD are either non-sexual or polygamists.  Obviously, this isn’t true.  I know this isn’t true.  This is a narrow-minded pop culture viewpoint.

But I’ve gotten a couple people on a website I’m a member of ask me how I can be both DID and monogamous, and yet still be highly sexual and into kink/BDSM.

It’s hard, I’ll admit.  We play that balancing game constantly.  We are hard-wired to be monogamous, but it is tricky trying to satisfy all of the requirements demanded by each of us.  But we work it out due to the following feelings on relationships; broken down by alter.

being a litle i dont really wanna have a boyfriend or girlfriend.  but i do want someone who will let me have my alone time to watch disney movies and play with zoe.  i’ve never really found anyone i felt safe enough to be around.  besides katharine. there were a few times she would watch a disney movie with me and i felt safe. but boys are scary, so its harder with them. i just dont want someone who will trigger any of the others…

I have needs.  That’s pretty much my bottom line.  If said person cannot fulfill my needs (which are also the body’s libido, so it isn’t just me being selfish or some shit like that), then they don’t hang around for long.  A libido has a lot of power, especially for a young woman, so I get a lot of say in whatever relationship we attempt to pursue.  I’m willing to be patient….to a degree.  But there is that point around the 3 month mark or so where I start getting antsy, twitchy, and it’s time for me figure out a solution to those needs.
However, I don’t do the whole cheating thing. That’s disgusting.  I am monogamous.  If the current relationship some other dumbass alter has gotten us into doesn’t fulfill my needs, then I correct that (Rika: she means sabotage).
Thanks Rika. Sure. Fine. I sabotage it. We need a complete relationship, not some half-hearted bullshit.

I just want to be able to trust someone.  I don’t want to be used. I don’t want any more abuse.  We’ve had enough of that.  Sometimes Charlotte forgets that the sort of people that fulfill her desires are the dark ones who will take us down that thorn-covered path again.  Roms and Rika help back me up on that usually.  I like someone who I can actually talk to.  I can cuddle with.  Who will make me smile and charm me.
I like the idea of someone who knows about our condition.  It’s…really hard to hide it.  It’s dishonest.  I’m tired of dishonestly.  It’s only cost us in the past.

I’ve been getting the largest vote in the past- though apparently this needs to be re-evaluated.  I care about that spark.  That chemistry.  Not necessary with the clothes-tearing and such, but just at least someone who will make me smile when I think of them.  I suppose I’ve got a bit of Claire’s romantic streak, but I also do enjoy sex occasionally (not to the degree as Charlotte, but at least some vanilla stuff).  I’m looking for that happy medium.  Someone who can be my friend and my bed-mate.

I am mostly a loner, so I don’t much care about relationships.  But I do like the idea of someone I can bake and cook for.  I’ve done that in the past and it was nice to have someone praise and enjoy my creations.
I also want someone who understands my function with the pills.  That I’m not trying to be suicidal, like Victoria or Daria.  I’m quite aware of the safe level to take to keep us from drowning.  I’ve perfected it over the years.  I’m the closest thing to a medical-alter this body has.  Let me do my thing and stop bitching at me for having “problems”.
And let me play my piano in peace. I do not perform.

I allow only partners who will not fuck us up.  No more of that shit.  I have one job and I’m going to fucking do it well.
I will handle any asshole who thinks he’s hot shit but is really fucking crazy shit.  I don’t care about honesty, like Claire. I don’t care if they know about our “condition” or whatever.
I do care that they understand that though Charlotte may be into dark shit, there is a line and they will not fucking cross it, or they will deal with me.
There is a reason why we were not nervous living in the slum side of town without constantly carrying weapons.  And that reason is me.  I’ve handled men and women larger than the body in the past will little to no trouble.
You fuck with us and I will fuck you up.

I’m not particularly opinionated about relationships.  I just want someone who isn’t going to upset the other alters, especially Armes or Claire.  I have no desires to be with anyone, but I respect the other alters having those desires and they are welcomed to pursue them.  I suppose I would prefer someone who does not have a problem with the whole Pagan belief thing.  Someone I can have the occasional intelligent conversation with.
Someone who doesn’t hate children.

I will not stand anyone who is dumb.  Also tired of people who don’t have their shit together.  I worked my ass off to get the job and education I have.  It was hard- but I did it.  Despite all the shit we deal with.  If you have a damn good reason for being a little behind the curve, then sure, I get that.  But don’t be making stupid excuses for being a lazy fucker who doesn’t understand how life actually works.
I don’t really have a physical interest in anyone.  Just someone I can talk to.  Especially about work.

No person should touch me.  That’s very bad.  The other alters say that it’s going to happen though and I should say what sort of person I would accept if I had to.
Someone who doesn’t judge our appearance.  I know we’re awful and fat and disgusting, but I don’t like that being pointed out.  Someone who isn’t constantly trying to make me eat.  I hate food.  Maybe someone who is nice to my hair.  I do like brushing it and playing with it and putting it into braids or buns or other things.
Someone to make the thunderstorms not so scary…


Daria declined to participate.  I don’t think she has a true opinion beyond wanting to ruin anything we attempt to do as a functional person.

This is the balancing act we have to do every time we think about starting a new relationship.

But we definitely don’t want to compound the problem by adding multiple partners.  That would just cause more issues.

Sometimes we wonder if it might be easier to just remain single.

If this joint were mine…

Oh the things I would do if I were running this joint.  If I were in charge.

But it isn’t even a “consideration” because I’m too “impulsive” and “erratic”. I know the words you all really want to say. Just say them.

Slut. Skank. Nympho. Bad. Whore.

Impulsive…please. Don’t kid yourselves.

But if I were in charge, things would be better. Despite what you say. You say last year was my fault. Maybe you’re right. But these hangups ya’ll are having are not. I’ve washed my hands. I’ve moved on. I never look back.

We need more of that.

I may be bad, but I’m damn good at it.

Can any of you say the same?


Forgot codeine makes me so effin itchy.

Shoulda taken the vicodin.

But needed something to make the others calm their shit down. Way too rough and switchy of a night. Hell, weekend.

Kit cannot keep this shit together like she used too.

Something needs to change. I’m going to run out of pills if I have to keep self-medicating at this rate.

We need to take stock and figure out our options. In the morning. Right now, we all need to sleep.

If I could just stop feeling so damn itchy!

Boy with the Purple Socks

“Sometimes you have to lie. But to yourself you must always tell the truth.”
-Ole Golly in “Harriet the Spy” by Louise Fitzhugh

Today on my drive to work, I saw a young man driving around downtown on a chic, slick moped.  He was dressed in a business suit and I wondered about the wind blowing dirt onto his suit jacket.

He was smiling.

And when I glanced down towards his feet I saw that above his black shiny professional loafers, he wore bright purple socks.


I loved “Harriet the Spy” when it first came out.  I loved the idea of being able to hide and watch what everyone else did without them seeing.

Spying seemed like the perfect survival tool.

I started my own notebooks, it was completely goofy I know.  I was jealous of Harriet’s other tools; the vintage binoculars, the rotating flashlight, that yellow rain slicker.

But it was the boy in the purple socks that always had me fascinated.  Who was this boy? Why did he never talk? Why did he wear purple socks? In the movie, it’s never really revealed, although in the book he explains that his mother wanted him to dress in all purple to stand out, but he talked her down to just the socks.

And yet he stands out anyway.  To me at least.

Before I read the book (one of the few book-to-movie renditions where I saw the movie first) I used to theorized all sorts of things about the boy in purple socks.

Sometimes I wondered if he was like me.  He didn’t really want any attention, but he didn’t want to be invisible.  So he compromised.  No talking, but wear purple socks.  I wondered how else he could be like me.

And today I wondered about a businessman who would drive a moped and wear purple socks.  It seemed exactly what the boy would grow up and do.


Windchimes has been a codeword used by us, our system, and friends for over a decade now. It’s always been a serious sort of warning, a secret in-crowd sort of all-encompassing “there is danger ahead, check yourself”.

It was written on the inside of my car’s windshield tonight.

I don’t know how long it’s been there. It’s writen in the thin layer of smudgey grime that’s built up on my windshield since the thorough cleaning I gave it back in April. Because of this, the word is only truly visible at night when it’s hit just right by a streetlight or passing car’s headlights.

This is the first evening I’ve driven since last week. It could have been scrawled at any time over the past couple days.

I also have no idea what it’s referring to. My job? My health? Internal (switchy-type) stuff? I dunno.

I just know that when I think about it, I get this scary sinking feeling in my stomach.

And no one is fessing up.

Windchimes. A warning. A serious warning. I know none of my system would ever use that codeword as a joke.

But a warning for what?

Rough Weekend (and apologies to all of you)

This weekend sucked.

I don’t really remember what caused the previous post.  Obviously it was from Victoria, not me.
I do know that Friday night was a swirl of triggering from the storm and reflection on our life so far.  Not sure why we were thinking about all that.

Okay. That’s a lie. Heh. Obviously don’t want to lie to myself, especially after the last post. I won’t do that.

I do know why we’ve been so reflect-y lately, but I don’t want to talk about it.  Right now at least.

There was some self-harm, but it saved us from being even stupider, as it usually does.  Victoria knows what she’s doing sometimes.  I have a respect for her that I can’t seem to find for Daria at all, even though deep down, I know she technically serves a purpose too.  But her violence towards Charlotte is unacceptable.

This weekend sucked because of Friday night but also after that, as we had a wicked bought of hypertension, migraine, nausea, and pain that kept us in bed (or the bathroom for throwing up) for the rest of the weekend.

So so much thanks and love to Shadow Dragon, who took lovely care of me over the weekend, even though she didn’t have to.

I’m still not sure about eating much, as even late last night when I attempted simple corn chips, my stomach was not happy.

I have managed a cup of hot apple cider, which is my comfort drink fall-back.  It seems to have worked to settle it temporarily.  I’ll try real food in a bit.

I obviously haven’t been online checking blogs or commenting, and I apologize for that.
I also apologize for the delay in my replies to your lovely comments of support on my last entry.
I did read them Saturday morning and even though I couldn’t bring myself to reply then, they meant so much to me and really made me feel better.

Thank you for being there when I had it rough.

I’m going to try to get back into the swing of the blogging circle here.  Hopefully you’ll be patient with me.  I’m having a really hard time reading others’ entries lately…

I know it’s unfair to make these connections and then just suddenly not be able to handle reading other people’s problems due to triggering and unstable-ness we’re having.  That seems just terribly wrong.

I’m still here and supporting all of you, even if I can’t manage to read your concerns and comment.  I’m so very sorry.

I also can’t talk about today’s Suicide Prevention Day.  I know it’s important and you guys are great for posting about it.  But I’m not strong enough at the moment.  Especially after Friday.

Warm thoughts to all of you.



They always lie.

Every single time.

Every single one.

“I’ll never hurt you.”


“I won’t let anything happen.”


“I won’t touch you like that again.”


“I love you.”


“I’ll never ever leave you.”


I told them. I told her. No one listens. But I’m always right. Always.

Why do storms always make us cry in the middle of the night? Why do they break her heart all over again?

I should just cut it out.

The blade makes it all better.

Drip drip drip.

It’s always red. It’s always warm. And it always hurts so much less than everything else.

Blood never lies.