Dementia and DID

I never knew what a trigger seeing someone I love with dementia and Alzheimer’s would be.

I traveled to Chicago (my hometown) this past three day weekend to help my father and aunt with sorting through my grandparents’ house. We just moved them to a care facility due to their debilitating dementia, Alzheimer’s, and self-care ability.
There wasn’t just the pain and stress of going through their house, the only stable home I’ve ever known; but also visiting them at the facility. They barely recognized me. Had no idea I am well past college and own my own house now.

The memory struggle hit me like a punch to the gut.

The weekend fractured and I have whole chunks missing. I’m back home now trying not to lose myself to the terror of losing my memory more and more. The crippling fright is more overwhelming than it’s been in years. Maybe ever. I’ve never seen the struggle of memory reconstruction from “the other side”.
I love my grandparents with my whole heart. But I seized in panic every single time we pulled into the facility’s parking lot. The first visit I could barely carry a conversation. The other visits are a hazy blur due to the disassociation/blackouts/switching/lost time.

I’ve discovered a trigger than I have practically no coping technique for. Besides being a shaking mess in my bed with Zoe.

I’d rather kill myself than have that much constant trouble with my memory.

And it terrifies me to think that I might already be more than halfway there.

My grandma when she was younger- she has an affinity for masks too.

My parents just before their marriage. They’re younger than me now in this shot.

Above are a couple of the old pictures I found while cleaning that give me a slight smile.

I don’t have the strength for a long entry, even though there is much I could say on this topic.

Katherine

She is red siren lipstick. The color that I can never pull off with my red hair. The kind that she always wore when she was feeling especially feminine. The kind that was next to impossible to get off my neck, breasts and thighs later that night.

She is sports bras and wife-beater tank tops. Even if she later dressed it up with a button down shirt or blouse, it always ended with that. I only saw her wear a dress twice in our whole relationship.

She is ice blue eyes. Always getting asked if she’s wearing contacts. She was always amused by that. The eyes were the color that could see deep into your soul and past the masks. The kind that haunt dreams even years after.

She is the taste of Skyy vodka and Smirnoff ice coolers. The cool burn creeping down my throat all the way to my stomach. The sour taste of green apple- the first alcohol I tried with her in Kentucky. The bitter taste of it coming back up the next day. To this day I avoid the green apple flavors.

She is the smell of asiago bagels and soft cream cheese. The smell of forgiveness when her 3rd shift ran over. The rustle of the brown bag from Panera. The covert way we carefully ate them in bed, even living all alone.

She is the hiss of the word “Mine”. Uttered way too often and most often accompanied by a sharp squeeze or nibble.

She is binge watching “Gargoyles” while scarfing bad junk food. The teasing about Fox being so much like me. The way she automatically got me another diet coke when in the kitchen for herself.

She is talking until the small hours of the morning (or afternoon, if she’d just gotten off work). Sleep is for the lonely and we never seem to run out of topics.

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She is the wistful desire for deep intimacy beyond sex. I know better than to actually pursue it, but there are so many times I remember how fulfilling it was.

She is my inability to comfortably listen to Journey. I still listen anyway.

She is my hatred at seeing Daddy settle into perfect domesticity. Despite every thing he’s done, it is him that is rewarded after a lifetime of denying any want for stable romance. And here I am living in loneliness and taking the scraps I can while denying outloud a want of anything further.

She is the wet hiccups of learning to cry silently and quickly. No one else ever wanted to deal with it. I’ve always been a quick study.

She is the tension in my muscles every time I drive near anything that reminds me of Kentucky. The rolling hills. The blooming meadows. All terrain vehicles. The burning liquor. I can’t force them to loosen until I’m well past memory lane.

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She is my utter struggle here in Chicago this weekend. I just want to cope like a normal girl. A good girl for Daddy. But the memories swirl and I can feel her breath and it isn’t entirely unpleasant. The only good part about dealing with my grandparents’ wicked dementia is they don’t ask about her. Or is that good?

While Daddy goes through his sections of their house and personal effects with the stark detachment he’s always possessed, here I am trying not to weep at every moment. At every item. In every room.
And I feel like only she would understand.

And all I can feel through the curtain of misery and DID-fog is burning hatred for myself.

It’s been almost five years now and she’s still the security blanket I automatically want to reach for.

DID Media Spotlight: “The Ward”

(Note: If you haven’t seen this movie, I will completely ruin it for you. The main character having DID is supposed to be a twist. Sorry. This will happen with a couple of my reviews. DID is a common “twist” tactic in suspense/thrillers/horror. Still worth watching in my opinion, but this is my warning for you if you do care.)

(Note 2: Trigger warning for some frank clinical discussion of self-harm. Nothing graphic.)

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Rating: 3.5 Stars (out of a possible 5)

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The plot of The Ward is a bit confusing. At its most basic, the premise is a young woman named Kristen is found in front of a burning farmhouse by police and taken to a psychiatric hospital for treatment, as it appears she lit the farmhouse on fire herself (and possibly injured people?).

I will preface this by saying I am a rather large fan of John Carpenter. And I must give him props for using a common horror trope in a way that didn’t completely offend me like most DID thriller/horror movies. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

As I said before, since I’m dissecting this movie for how it pertains to Dissociative Identity Disorder (or the ol’ title of Multiple Personality Disorder, as it’s referred to in this movie) there will be spoilers ahead. I watched this movie twice so that I could more deeply react to the little “clues” and techniques used knowing that “Kristen” is physically by herself during her stay in the the ward, not accompanied by a couple other young woman, as shown to the audience initially. It’s done decently well. Although I’ll say as a avid fan/student of both the horror genre and someone with DID personally, I recognized what was going on with Kristen pretty early on. The other staff did not interact with the other girls (alters). With the exception of the main therapist/psychiatrist, who does address multiple alters. But only in counseling sessions. And it’s done in such a way that a multiple can tell he’s addressing a multiple.

Now to dissect.

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The Good

#1 No psychopathic killers-  STILL a horror movie!
I truly enjoyed this movie for being the only thriller/horror I’ve ever seen to feature a person diagnosed with DID that did not kill or murder others. The violence in the movie is entirely self-harm related. And handled rather cleverly, if more Hollywood-tized that us average multiple systems, obviously.

The strife between alters is more dramatically violent than my personal systems’ experience, but there could be some argument made that Kristen’s system merely manifests the internal strife and memory/abuse issues differently. The main conflict is that the original personality (Alice) is upset by the alters and doesn’t want them around. The alters, in their fear of being destroyed, have tried repressing (“killed”) the original personality so that they could continue their existence. Though an extreme reaction, I find it realistic in the movie because the therapist was encouraging Alice to “get rid” of the alters. Almost like an “integration” as opposed to co-conscious to function in day-to-day activities.

But Alice wasn’t truly destroyed and she starts trying to fight back against the alters; they start disappearing. Again, extreme for a normal system, but it is a movie. And a horror movie. Still more legit in my opinion than someone like Norman Bates and his alter killing young women regularly.

#2 The alters/personalities
I must say I really enjoy the actual characters themselves. I think they did a good job trying to address a lot of the common archetypes systems tend to develop. I do have one major nitpick, but I’ll get to that in the next section. Mainly though, I could find parts of my own system in the archetypes they had. Unlike United States of Tara, where the personalities are sort of more just these “fun quirky characters” like “housewife” and “redneck” that sometimes serve the more standard coping mechanism of a system (like Buck acting as a protector alter at times), the alters in Alice’s system seem to serve a more standard DID system function. 

#3 Self-harm actually addressed
A sensitive topic, of course, but one that is rarely actually referenced in the media’s interpretation of DID. But in “The Ward” it’s addressed not in one, but two ways! There’s the more standard self-harming alter (Emily) who has self-harm scars on her arm. The sassy Sarah ribs Emily about them derisively, reminding me of my own Rika’s scoffing at the self-harming alters in my system.

But there’s also moments where Alice or Kristen is seemingly attacking/harming another alter, but when the “twist” of DID is revealed to the audience, we can see that they’re truly just harming themselves. Sort of like “Fight Club”. It appears to Kristen that she’s in a brawl with Alice when what the hospital staff is seeing is her throwing herself at the ground and window, cutting and hurting herself. A bit dramatic, yes, but I know I’ve had minor versions of such issues myself.

Before the twist is revealed, this is what the audience sees. After, it’s shown that Kristen was holding the knife to her own throat.

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The Bad

#1 All beautiful young perfect white women
Okay. I get that a lot of systems’ alters tend to reflect the body’s physical attributes, to a degree. But I know I have some with dramatic weight/coloration/height differences, some with dramatically different ages, and a couple with different gender attributes. I was disappointed that “The Ward” had all of Alice’s alters as young, beautiful slim white women. Even the little-alter, Zoey, is obviously no younger than 16 (and that’s pushing it), her “little” status more addressed by the addition of childish pigtails and a stuffed animal she babies constantly. The only real difference was hair color. Different hair colors does not diversity make.

Ignore that she’s obviously the same age as Kristen (the blond), Zoey is sucking her thumb and clutching a stuff bunny! She’s obviously a little!

#2 Therapy is maaaybe evil
This one I’m a little more torn on. Mostly because personally, I’m hugely against the whole idea of destroying parts of a system for integration or a similar prognosis. But I do give this movie’s therapist some credit for dissuading the nurse from dosing Alice for no reason at times, and for listening to each alter as much as possible. If his goal had been co-conciousness and trying to have the alters respect each other rather than “beat” each other until the strongest is left standing, then I would respect it much more.
Also they use freakin’ electroshock-therapy at one point. Granted, the movie takes place in the 1960s, but still. Not cool.

#3 DID is still technically the villain
Okay. I did say I respect this movie more than the average DID horror because the protagonist, despite having DID, is not a murderer/killer. She was abused as a child and splintered and now is still having trouble coping. However, by the end of the movie, DID is still clearly a villain. The goal is to “cure” Alice of it. She obviously couldn’t possibly function in society without it. The violence of the movie is caused by the alters’ fear of being destroyed by Alice, which is encouraged by their therapist. This movie definitely doesn’t have DID coming out smelling remotely rose-like.
United States of Tara still does a better job of trying to de-villify it more than the average media attempt. Which is disappointing, because if “The Ward” had ended with the alters finding common ground and deciding to unite against the stress/introject of the abuse instead of the origin personality of Alice, I would have given this a full 5 stars for merely doing something a movie never has. Vilifying DID.

But we are still the villain.

And that is sad to see.

DID Media Spotlight: “United States of Tara” (S1)

(Note: since this is a multi-season show, this review is strictly about season 1)

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Rating: 4 Stars (out of a possible 5- strictly Season 1)

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I thought it might be best to start with an obvious one.

A show that aired first in 2009, “United States of Tara” is arguably the first TV show to focus on an in-depth look in the life of someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

In my experience, the only shows in the past to even mention DID in any fashion are soap operas (as a lame plot device) or criminal shows (as a lame villain/criminal device). Only in a single passing episode, of course.

“United States of Tara”, a show to feature a classic nuclear family (two parents, two kids) but with DID as the main conflict, is an interesting way to take the classic family drama/sitcom formula that is so mainstream-popular and feature mental-health.

I have watched this show in the past. Like many multiples, I leapt on it when I first heard of it, In my case, when it was picked up by Netflix a couple years ago. I prefer my shows binge-able and commercial free. I admit, when I watched it previously, I found it mostly offensive and Hollywood-itized. Some of my long-time followers may remember my passionate reactions, especially to Eddie Izzard’s character (who appears in later seasons).

This time I tried to view it with a more fair eye (helps that I’m more co-conscious this time around- HA!).

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The Good

#1- No psychopathic killers
I have to say the main good for me, as a passionate lover of the horror movie genre, is that Tara is not automatically a psychopath who has an alter that kills people. I can’t even begin to say how much I hate that trope. I’m sure you shall see in later reviews, when I get into what mainly features that trope- movies.

#2- Family love and dynamic
The other part of this first season that I love is the family dynamic. Yes, there are inaccuracies with how the DID is manifested, especially in the drama-sense; and yes, the way therapy is treated in this show is a joke at best. But I have to say it is truly nice to see a mainstream show showing a family that, despite the ups and downs of living with a family member that is struggling with their identity, remain for the most part supportive.
As a whole, that is. I have beef with Max, but I’ll get to that later. I think the kids are portrayed in as accurate a way as Hollywood can get. They have some novelty fascination with their mom’s “issues”, they also have real anger and fear, but the main emotion is love.

I can’t say how much I adore the tattoo scene with the mother and daughter (Episode 9). If most of the show was more like that, I would give it a full five stars, just for trying so hard.

I also have to give it some credit (strictly in Season 1), for retaining an interesting plot that flows well without resorting to “let’s get super freaky with the DID”. It’s pretty standard stuff: she’s trying to deal daily with the alters (and a little later in the season, figure out some of her past). There’s some mess when her alters come out, but nothing that can’t be (relatively) cleaned up. There’s some good side stories with the kids. You get to see how all the alters have somewhat of a bond with the family. It is truly Tara’s family- alters and all.

There’s some great sister moments in season one as well. I find Charmaine an obnoxious character in general, but for my review I tried to be more empathic and really feel for her as if she was a three dimensional person, like I think the writer’s may have been going for.
She’s a very frustrated person though a bit selfish. I think she has a hard time seeing the family and lifestyle Tara has and equating it with the struggle of her health. I honestly think she could use some therapy to help her love herself more and stop worrying about what her sister has. But there are some great moments where you really see Tara and Charmaine, as sisters, shine through.

There’s this great bonding moment at the end of Episode 4. One of the alters may or may not have fucked up income stream for both Tara and her sister. And at first, Charmaine is pissed. She lost a job over what she thinks is her sister’s “crazy”. But then, you see this beautiful shift. Tara’s family. And Tiffany was sort of an uptight bitch anyway. And Tara offers binge-food (you can catch the lollipop obsession here, that bleeds over to the alter T, though it seems to be something Tara and Charmaine share from childhood) and Charmaine helps steady her with this wonderful patty-cake game. It seems to be this stimming/focusing technique for Tara that has perhaps been done before. There’s a deeper level to this brief scene and it’s wonderful!! I wish more were like this!

Of course…the show can’t be all unicorn farts and puppy cuddles…

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The Bad

#1- Actual system manifestation
All right, let’s get the DID stuff out of the way first. The manifestations are extreme. They all seem pretty anti-keep-shit-flowing-smoothly. Now, I get all systems are different, but this review is based on my personal experience and my knowledge of friends, studies, blogs, etc. But feel free to chime in if you think I get something super wrong. 

So my experience with systems is that, yes there are some that like to be selfish and just sort of fuck shit up. But there’s also a good multitude of alters whose entire purpose is to smooth that shit back over. To keep things so the body seems semi-functional, doesn’t die, or get thrown in prison/hospital/etc. Pretty common. But Tara doesn’t seem to have any alter like that.

UNLESS
Tara is that alter.

Which brings me to point two. Tara is treated in the show as “the original personality”. But DID doesn’t exactly work like that. Again, from my experience and knowledge. Yes, there can be a sort of general “smooshed” aspect (or alter) that can be close to “original”, but the truly original person that was born? That person got destroyed in the trauma event. That’s what makes DID what it is.

And in United States of Tara, we know it isn’t co-consciousness. It’s explicitly stated that Tara isn’t able to do that. She “goes away” when the other alters are out. So what makes her not an alter? In my opinion, nothing. She is one. She’s the one that tries to keep shit together. I just wish they’d label her as such.

#2 – Max- coolest dad and perfect husband?
Okay, so my other big issue with season 1? Max. Maxy Max. The husband and father. Oh my god, could they have gone for “cool dad/perfectly supportive husband” trope any more?!

The teen daughter, Kate, literally takes advantage of this trope constantly, with her blatant discussing of her sexual activity and underaged drinking (arguably, Max sometimes stops the drinking). I get that sex shouldn’t be shameful. And I agree with that. But neither should it be some casual subject with your parents. Your child should understand how to use protection in the act, not just resort to Plan B/Morning After to not “let the fertilized egg implant itself on [her] uterus”.
Their younger son, Marshall, throws a large house party at one point with tons of underaged drinking and doesn’t get disciplined at all. An offense that literally could send both Max and Tara to jail in many states.
I guess perhaps there are families out there like that, I’ve just not come across them. But the “cool dad” trope isn’t even my biggest issue. My biggest issue is the man is somehow portrayed as this amazing freakin’ saint when it comes to Tara and the alters. I’m sorry, I do like that Hollywood isn’t having domestic drama overshadow the DID stuff, but good god Max, get mad like a real person sometimes!

I was actually watching part of season one with my boyfriend, Army, and he agreed that Max was very unrealistic. He agreed that there are great men out there that would be as supportive as they could, but all the shit that goes down in season one would definitely cause some real anger. Especially when it came to stuff that upset/hurt the children. Max seems to constantly choose his wife over his childrens’ wellbeing and I’m not sure how I feel about that message.

That smile though…

I get that I may be bias, but this is my review. So I get to vent about it 🙂

#3- Therapy is pure EVIL
Okay. Third biggest issue. Therapy. Therapy is a joooooke in this show. The whole thing.

It gets worse as the show progresses, but it is already a problem in season one. There’s a very weird message about medication too. What actually kicks off the season is that Tara is going off her psych-related medications for the first time in many years. And that is what’s “letting the system wake up” or whatever. I know there are a variety of meds that “deaden” the whole disassociation thing, but once the alters start doing real damage (hello, one sucker-punched a teenage boy!), does the therapist start discussing alternative medication? No. It’s just a sort of weird “oh shucks, power through this and soon it’ll be totally fine”. Like Tara is supposed to just “suck it up”. A little too reminiscent of my father.
There are only about two moments in the season where we actually see a therapy session with Dr. Ocean, Tara’s therapist. And it’s just…I was slack-jawed. This woman should not be licensed to practice therapy. The way she handles Tara is patronizing, at best. And even Army agreed that her discussing the treatment with Max behind Tara’s back (even in a “vague” sense) was way out of line. Tara is rightfully upset. Dr. Ocean is a terrible therapist. And there’s some sort of awful sick joke thrown in at one point that she “just started reading up on DID” or something. Like she didn’t even care to know how to handle Tara until after the shit-storm started happening. It was horrifying.
And don’t even get me started on the hospital’s/center’s doctor at the end who felt he had to drug Tara to force a transition. Yeah, no wonder the alters distrusted him. Hands-down, the worse part of season one.

I could take the manifestation of the DID and the characterization of Max. But I really wish the therapy was handled better. The best part about this issue is that therapy was so rarely featured in season one. The good outweighed it in this season.

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Honestly, I think season one overall did a good job. For Hollywood trying to portray such a complicated and touchy disorder, they seemed to put some real thought into it. There is heart in season one. Enough heart to make me stomach it pretty well. It’s like “Practical Magic” when it comes to Pagans/witches. Yeah, not really accurate most of the time, but man do they try to not be utterly offensive like 90% of Hollywood.

Have you seen it? What did you think?

New series: DID Media Spotlight

Lately with this blog, I feel like I need to be more constructive and “give back”, in a sort of way. Something that’s less specifically about me and more about relating my experiences to a larger audience.

I’m sure I’m not new in this idea.

The specifics are as follows:

1.) A pop culture form of expression (at the moment I’m more thinking books, movies, and TV shows; I don’t want to limit myself in the future though) that features a form of disassociation or DID/MPD.

2.) For the moment limited to fictionalized, not non-fiction (like memoirs or documentaries). This could change later.

3.) It will be less of a review and more of a reflection on what the piece has going for it and what it doesn’t (emotionally that is).

4.) Suggestions are encouraged! Via comments or email!

5.) Comments on the post on how you felt about the piece are also encouraged!

6.) It will be every Friday. Starting tomorrow. Regular posts will still happen on other days.

Let me know what you think!

And see you guys tomorrow (probably afternoon-ish)

Feeling actually excited. Hopefully this’ll kick my butt into gear a bit 🙂

Rotten week

This week is a bad one.

1.) The wake of Mother’s Day. A holiday I haven’t dealt with well for a couple years now. Add to that my stepfather being extra-dick to my mom while we tried to bond and it was an extra-rotten day.

2.) My best friend is finally visiting the U.S. from all Germany. But she’s on the other side of the country. To be fair, her mom bought the plane ticket (that’s where her mother’s family lives). But it’s rough having her closer and yet still so far. Almost a full five years since I was last able to hug her.

3.) My stepsister announced her pregnancy. Accidental. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But she’s flipping a bit on how to deal. And where to go. It’s shockingly familiar to me. And yet, my father is welcoming her with open arms. That’s a whole fucking different story than when it was me. I do wish her the best, but dealing with my family’s fluffy treatment of her compared to the brick walls I got is extremely difficult.

4.) Still haven’t found a job. Not handling that well.

5.) My brother, Grey’s, constant parties and having friends over while not actually helping me clean/maintain the household is starting to raise my anxiety to unmanageable levels. I’ve basically been holed in my room for 3 days now, slipping out briefly only to let the dog out.

6.) Food and I are not getting along. Grey keeps asking me about grocery shopping (because he doesn’t want to put forth his own money of course…) and I keep telling him later. It’s gotten to the point that he’s bringing himself home food from work since our kitchen is pretty much bare. But I like it bare. It makes the restricting easier. I wish he would recognize the signs and just go shopping himself. Gods know I’m not going to tell him.

7.) I’m supposed to drive across the state on Saturday to visit an old friend I haven’t seen in years (we’re both depressed about Germany not coming to Ohio). I’m both stressed and looking forward to it. Hoping I don’t make an idiot of myself. I also somehow need to get my ass in gear by Friday night because I promised to bring a baked dessert. Fuck.

8.) I would like to sleep until fall please. Thanks.

I’m not trying to list complaints in hopes for some pats on the back or anything. I just need to try and purge it, so to speak. Listing them sometimes helps. Perhaps I can focus on other things now.

I can hope, right?

Tracking Dirt

Sometimes family isn’t about blood. And sometimes it is.

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She was eleven when she first knew he was not trustworthy. Her mother had married him and was expecting the second brother.

Sitting on the couch, she read a Baby-Sitters Club book. The house was quiet. She still felt jittery in this unfamiliar place. She wished they would spend 100% of the time at the house on the corner lot, instead of a mere 40-50% (at best).

Bang!

She flinched at the door slamming and glanced up. Her stepfather loomed near the front door, staring down at the floor. He quickly looked up at her and snarled, “Did you track dirt into my house? You know to wipe your feet!”

She looked down at her bare feet, clean of any dirt or debris. She tried to remember if she’d been outside recently. Logic said no. She was a good ways into her book and she was pretty sure she’d read it in only one sitting so far. The tracks on the carpet were outlined in shoe treads. Her shoes were neatly placed on the mat next to the front door. She looked back up with a pleasant expression, preparing to relay all these steps that had given her the logical conclusion that she had not tracked dirt into his house.

Her stepfather was now closer, stomping his ways towards her. His expression ferocious. She dropped her book.

“I didn’t.” She whispered, “I take them off when I come in. I don’t wear them on the carpet.” Her voice seemed to be swallowed by the shadows of the room. He stopped just above her and leaned down. She made herself very still and her eyes did not meet his. She would be a good girl. Good girls do not cry or plead. Good girls merely listen.

“You will treat this house with respect. You will not dirty it. Do you understand me??” He hissed. She quickly nodded. Good girls respond to questions without complaint.

The stepfather did not agree with these rules apparently. His hand was suddenly clamped around her wrists. Her breath froze deep in her chest. She was a statue. She was ice. She was far away. Someone listened though.

“Did you get dirt on your hands too??” His hand tightened as he examined her palms. She made no sound. She was above pain. Good girls do not feel pain. “Wash your hands this instant.” The command registered with who listened and the moment the wrists were released, the girl was upstairs and in the bathroom.

Click

She does not remember who locked the bathroom door. She does remember that she is supposed to wash her hands. It is done quickly, barely noting the fact that her hands are already clear of dirt. An angry part of her catalogues that fact away though.

Asshole it murmurs. It can say that word silently, deep in the recesses of the girl’s brain. Things are safe there.

She finishes and carefully opens the door and peeks out. Coast is clear. She darts quickly to her room and closes the door.

Click

Again, there is no memory of locking the door. But it is locked. That is certain.

It is especially certain when the knob is tried mere minutes later and the door does not give way.

“What the hell?!” yells the stepfather from outside. The girl curls up into a small ball on her bed. Perhaps she can stop resembling a person. That might help. “Did you lock my fucking door? This is not your house!” The door is rattled. Girl is a tiny stone. She is a pebble. She is not a person.

The door is rattled again.

Then suddenly it splinters open.

Her breath freezes deep inside again. She unravels herself and lets the bits float up and away. It is a tactic she is good at. She can be seeds on the wind.

He is above her on the bed.

She is dandelion fuzz, granting wishes to all the little children of summer.

Her wrists are clamped again. He thrusts a small rectangular object in her face. Only part of the title registers in her fractured brain. B-A-B-Y-S-I-

“Don’t leave your shit downstairs.”

She is the fizz in a root beer float. The bubbles in a bath. She bobs on the surface with the rubber dolphin and Mermaid Barbie.

“Do you understand me?”

She is the spray of a sprinkler in summer. The droplets making tiny rainbows in the air.

“Hey. Do you understand me?!” The grip on her wrists tightens again. The pain crackles her brain and gives rise to someone. The eyes undeaden and she is no longer a pebble. She stares up at the stepfather.

“Yes.” Her voice is barely a murmur, but it is enough. The wrists are released and he leaves as suddenly as he came in.

The fractured doorframe and her splintered brain the only looming reminder.

And she had been doing so well.

Birthday

This past Monday was my birthday.

No magical number or anything. Just a general “you’re getting older” sort of day. I felt very adult by the fact that I actually scheduled a doctor’s appointment for that day. It was a bit stressful for me and my system, but I don’t really want to discuss that right now.

The main gift from my mother was a simple DVD.

It turned out to be a compilation of all these family video clips from when I was a toddler. From before we moved to Ohio. For some reason I cannot entirely comprehend, I was terrified to watch this DVD. I let it sit.

With the freshly filled script of Ativan, I finally brought myself to watch it the other day.

It was a roller coaster of emotion. As expected, I suppose.

I’m going to list my main observations in a list to sort them out better.

1.) I have not always been shy. Through various clips I am very outspoken and interact joyfully with all relatives and friends of my family. This was surprising to see.

2.) There are multiple Christmas clips (from two or three years’ worth of holidays) and though I don’t recognize the event itself, there are gifts/toys that I recognize. There are gifts that Armes especially exclaims over from deep inside my brain. It gives me a smile and yet deeply wounds me at the same time.

3.) My paternal grandmother is featured prominently in many of these clips. She passed when I was 8. I do not remember her unless I really think about it. I remember how she used to collect the Beanie Baby toys McDonalds had for a time. She wasn’t a fan of fast food, but she collected as many as she could just for me because I loved stuffed animals (and Beanie Babies). I remember that she would use any excuse to send me a package in the mail. I used to even get “First Day of School” packages with little gifts.
It’s hard to remember the funeral. But I do remember that for months afterwards, I talked about how her “ghost” watched me and tried to protect me. Dad tried to logically explain how that wasn’t possible until he’d had enough and told me to “cut it out”. I stopped talking about her altogether. I remember that many years later, when we moved to our new house (his current house) and the basement seemed to be creepy and weird to my friends, I told them I wasn’t afraid because “Grandma watched out for me”. I don’t think I even entirely knew what I meant.
It was shocking to see her face on the screen. And yet…her face is not unfamiliar to me. I can’t explain it well.

4.) My father only briefly appears in two clips.

5.) There are clips at the beginning where my mother seems to be recording “for” my father (because he is deployed with the military at the time) and tries to get me to talk to him. My toddler-literal-mind doesn’t understand though. At one point she asks me to “say bye-bye to Daddy on the camera” and I say “Bye Camera!”.

6.) The first clip to feature my father, (more than halfway through the 80 minute DVD) he is putting together a child’s desk for me. I ask him who broke the desk (it’s laid out in many pieces on the floor). He patiently explains that it isn’t broken, just taken apart and he’s putting it back together. He shows me the instructions with pictures. I study it intently for a good 45 seconds. I cannot place this interaction emotionally in my brain. I don’t know how to feel. I feel like I should know how to feel.

7.) The second clip is my birthday. Dad is icing my cake. Not Mom, as I would have expected. It is another moment I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know how to connect this father on film with the one I know who seems so distant and anti-child.

8.) Though my father is not in the clip, there is a clip of me talking to him on the phone. I am very serious in my discussion (though I can barely understand what toddler-me is saying). I am upset when Mom tells me I have to say goodbye and hangup soon.

9.) I want to watch this again so I can catch more details and try to not be so switchy during the whole thing. But I can’t bring myself yet. Perhaps in another week or two.