Category Archives: Roms

First session

“I’m lying there wondering what happens next and I hear a voice. It says, ‘Man, this is not a way to live. This is a way to die.'” -Cornell, “28 Days”


Today was the day. As the alarm blared, and a hand reached from under the covers to slam it off.

Fuckin’ alarm

She shrugged off the echoing words, well-used to strange thoughts and ringing words she didn’t remember thinking. It matched well with scrawled notes she didn’t remember writing and stacks of books earmarked at pages she didn’t remember reading.

The strange bruises and cuts on the canvas of her body. A quick glance in the bathroom before dressing showed there weren’t any new ones today.

Her stomach felt strangely hollow, but she ignored it. Breakfast wasn’t happening anyway. Running too late. She shoved a wad of cash into her hip pocket. She’d get food at lunch. The worshipful caress of her sharp hipbone said otherwise, but it wasn’t noticed.

Time hop-skipped and she was at her locker. The hopscotch jump of lost time didn’t faze her. Thankfully it was a routine school day and she could easily see by the clock on the wall that all she missed was the trip to school and maybe a bit of pre-homeroom socializing. Nothing she would be required to recall at a moment’s notice. But then a post-it on the inside of her locker caught her eye.

Meeting with the counselor today- after lunch

Panic rose. She would have to discuss “things” with this woman. Explain why her schoolwork was slipping and why her friends never saw her eat.

“Hey. Today’s the day.” said a voice to her left. She jerked silently before noticing it was a real person standing next to her. Katherine.

“Yeah. Today.” She replied.

“Are you still mad at me for telling your mom?” Katherine’s bright blue eyes were concerned and Kit momentarily wondered why she wasn’t mad. Normally she would be. She had been furious at Sarah back in middle school. Telling the school guidance counselor about having to prevent her from drinking bleach at a party. That anger seemed to bubble and overflow for weeks. Months.

But Katherine telling her mom about not eating? Nothing. Even though it was the missing piece in the mystery of “Kit’s mental status” that her mother was trying to untangle.

“I’m not mad.” She replied honestly. She had a sudden flirty urge to play with her hair. She squinted for a moment, trying to place the urge. It didn’t feel like hers. Katherine raised an eyebrow.

“What are you planning to talk about? Josh? Texas? Your dad?”

“I dunno. Maybe. Depends on the person.” She shoved the locker closed and twirled the lock compulsively.

“I think you should tell them about everything.” Katherine pushed. Kit’s eyes cut away, fluttering.

Another pair looked up.

Everything?” came the sharp reply. The eyes accompanying the harsh word seemed in contrast. They were a bit shy, but also warm. Katherine turned a bit pink. Her turn to glance away.

“Well. That’s up to you.”

The sharper eyes fiddled with her small green purse, pawing through it with purpose. Suddenly a rattling sound announced success and she pulled out a small bottle of painkillers. Katherine frowned. “More headaches?”

“There’s always more headaches.” Midori replied. “Today’s upcoming party isn’t exactly a help.”

“So you are mad.”

“Jesus Katherine. I said I wasn’t.” Midori huffed, tipping the bottle expertly and dry-swallowing a couple of the oblong white pills. “I’m going to be late.” She shoved the bottle back into the purse and looked expectedly at the dark haired girl in front of her. Katherine glanced at the clock.

“Oh. You’re right. I’ll walk you?”

“Whatever. Your tardy record.”

“Media doesn’t care. As long as we turn in projects, we can pretty much be wherever.”

“Should have gone the media track.” Midori replied, automatically falling into step next to Katherine. Sometimes their arms brushed. It was one of Midori’s favorite parts of the day and she hoarded the feelings jealously.


It was lunchtime by the time Kit was aware and she automatically headed to the table she shared with Germany and a couple other friends. She avoided glancing where Josh and Texas would be sitting, half in each other’s lap.

Charlotte peeked out and saw. She rolled her eyes, knowing she was better at pleasing Josh anyhow. Not her fault he preferred the sane.

Germany never asked why she just drank a diet coke. The excuse of headaches and migraines worked well for Kit’s supposed closest friend.

Lunch didn’t last as long as Kit hoped. As her other friends threw the remnants of their lunches away and headed towards the classrooms, Kit clutched her half finished diet coke and walked towards the faculty side of the building.

It felt like a death march.

The kids all knew where “special meetings” were held at the school. Whether it was tutoring, discipline discussions, or counseling, there was only one area it happened. Kit opened the door to the lobby and tried to dodge the eyes of a secretary she’d never met before.

Blackness

It was Roms who surfaced this time and timidly walked up to the counter. She recognized the sign-in sheet, similar to the one for when she arrived after third bell. She filled out the body’s name, then finally met the eyes of the secretary. The woman was obviously judging her, but Roms tried not to think about that. Someone important needed to attend this meeting. This meeting could not be lost entirely. That’s something a crazy person would do. Sane people remember. The primary goal was to appear sane.

The secretary glanced at the sheet, then at something on her computer screen.

“Room three. It’s the last one.” She pointed down a short hallway. Roms gave a brief nod and headed towards Room Three.

She opened the door and saw a woman already in there. She paused.

“Are you K____? You’re in the right place.” The woman said, a smile on her face. She was younger than Roms expected. Barely out of college. She entered tentatively, the diet coke held in front like a shield.

“Is this all right?” She asked. The woman nodded with a smile.

“Sure. I’m Joy.”

A derisive snort exploded in the back of Roms’ mind, but she ignored it. Fought to not let the offensive sound reach the air verbally.

“K____.” She lied automatically. Joy nodded.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because my father won’t pay for a real psychologist and doing it through the school is free.” Midori interjected bluntly.

Roms pushed back the sensation of a blush but wasn’t positive if her face remained passive. Lately, her and Midori had less of a wall. They synced in many of their goals for the body, so perhaps that was why.

Joy had about as good a poker face as Roms herself so there was no way to tell if the blush avoidance was successful.

“What are you hoping to get out of these meetings?” Joy asked

Roms paused, considering.

“You can be honest. It stays between us.” Joy encouraged.

“I suppose it would be whatever is needed to reassure my parents and friends that I’m fine.” Roms answered truthfully.

“Are you fine?” Joy asked.

“No.”

“Do you want to elaborate on that right now?” Her tone seemed hopeful. Rom felt the immediate upheaval and internal lip curl.

“Probably not.” She said quietly. Joy nodded easily.

“That’s fine. We don’t know much about each other yet. Please do sit.” She offered the open seats at the round table she was at. Roms chose one diagonal from the therapist. Not across, not next to. That seemed the most comfortable. Joy made a note in her pad.

“Let’s start with some easy stuff. Any pets?” She asked, her tone disarming. The buzzing bees of Roms’ head increased. Suspicion was high. Roms pushed back as much as she could, trying to focus on the fact that getting through this meant parents backing the fuck off. That thought decreased the buzzing.

“Two cats. Girls. Velvet and Ashes.” She went ahead and supplied the names. Knowing that was the logical next question. She’d handled enough guidance counselors to know the line of questioning.

“Do you take care of them mostly? Or your parents?”

“They’re only at my father’s house. But I mostly take care of them. He will on the weekends I’m at Mom’s.” This commentary caused another note made to Joy’s pad.

“Do you see your parents equally?”

“That’s the technical deal. But since school is here, I’m at my father’s more. Most of my friends live here.”

“Understandable. And your parents are okay with that arrangement?”

“Yep. Friendliest divorced parents you’ll ever meet.” Roms’ tone edged on facetious as Midori crept out slightly, “Their separation was a business arrangement. Neat, organized, timely, and emotionless.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Joy said, her expression remaining fixed. Midori rolled her eyes.

“Okay.” She replied without argument. Joy seemed to react to this, and made another note.

“Why do you say it’s like a business arrangement?”

Midori slumped slightly in the chair. She definitely hadn’t taken enough painkillers for this woman. It was ridiculous that Roms thought to go along easily with this bullshit.

Midori debated a moment on letting Rika out to just end the session bluntly. But that could end with further counseling and possibly school faculty involved. Rika was not good at censoring her language.
Last time in Geography when the boy had made a crude pass at Kit, Rika’s response got her kept after the bell. Thankfully the teacher liked Kit, and had heard part of what the boy said. So the discussion was mostly for show. Not a true disciplinary action.

Rika in this situation would end differently, Midori was pretty sure. She sighed heavily.

“Look. I get that I’m here to ‘sort things out’ or whatever. But I really hate the constant ‘why’ follow up questions to things I say. Can we do this a different way?”

“I appreciate the honesty, K____.” Joy replied matter-of-factly. She did not make a note on her pad. Midori wasn’t sure what that meant. “Any suggestions on the best way to do this?”

“The way that gets me out of here and my parents no longer pissed.” Midori answered.

“Well I’m going to be honest with you then, K____. That’s going to have to involve some whys. I have to be able to see why things are not fine. Eventually. Or the parents probably won’t be cool.”

Midori picked up on Joy trying to make her speech more high school causual in its rhythm and some word choices, but it mostly sounded odd. It put the whole head on edge. Even distant parts of the pieces who were truly unaware of there being a system.

“I’m not sure what to tell you.” Midori said stubbornly.

Then there was a push and Roms gave way. “I guess I should say I just got out of a long relationship. For high school. Almost a whole year. I was dumped a couple weeks ago. He’s going out with one of my former best friends now. Found out they were already doing stuff behind my back for months. My other best friend that I sit with at lunch hasn’t noticed I haven’t eaten at school in three weeks.” Roms paused, hesitant with the last big tidbit. Then she focused again on the goals of just getting through this as honestly as they could without getting committed.

“And my third best friend…she’s the only one who’s noticed anything different about me. But I think I have a crush on her. I don’t know how to feel about that. I’ve only liked boys. I still like boys. I’m not a lesbian.” Roms’ tone became desperate at the end as pieces of emotions breathed in from other corners of the system.
Being more abnormal was a fucking disaster.

Why couldn’t they just be normal.

Joy was silent for a long time. It felt like forever. Roms was resisting the urge to give way to The Compulsives, who would pick or scratch, or toy with something and make the abnormal even more obvious. She remained rigid, in body and head. The headache increased.

“Thank you. That’s very helpful.” Joy said, finally starting to make some notes on her pad. “I think having feelings for people who care for you can be good, healthy, even if they seem confusing. I think we really got through a lot of stuff today for a first session. Is it okay with you if we stop early today? I think you need to pause after telling me all that. And I need to pause too before talking to you about all that. But I’m glad we were able to open a little bit of this box you keep.”

Roms stared, resisting the urge to drop her jaw in open-mouthed surprise. Joy knew about the box. Joy carefully didn’t meet her eyes while she finished writing and Roms composed herself, mentally running through all that had happened in this room. With Joy.

It was vital that Kit be aware of this whole first session.

Roms had a feeling these sessions with Joy would determine some important direction for the future. Others were more skeptical, but Roms was the one who was usually right about those sort of predictions.

Something important was at work here.

Coping with blackout results

Apparently during Shit Week (last week) when things were pretty blackout switchy, some fun was had with the credit card.

Normally, I’d send them back for a refund (stuff like this has happened before), but upon further reflection…they’re pretty cute.

Also, the most comfortable heels I’ve ever put on my feet. So long story short, it appears the burgundy fox heels are staying.

IMG_3427 IMG_3437

We still aren’t quite fully co-conscious like earlier this year and last year. That will probably take more time. But there seems to be more “camaraderie”, so to speak. Less blackouts and more just straight up switching. Walls are temporarily windows.

I do hope they shall remain as such.

Attempting Focus

I am scared to leave the bedroom.

I have hidden the car keys.

Slipping back into the compulsive habits of checking my hair and skin every time it feels like more than a minute has passed. (has it?)
Checking all online media and the cell phone for unknown communications. Checking the usual hiding places for blades or pills.

Habits left over from a girl who learned to survive. The others I’m sure wouldn’t call me that. I’m the part usually overlooked. Much dismissed.

I bring the clocks out and set them around the bedroom. Make sure the batteries are fresh. I can accept the lost time, but I at least want to account for it.

A good six hours gone today. Sucked into the curling smoke of nothing. In fractions and fragments. Nothing seems to be more than 30 minutes. Here and there.

I keep checking to make sure items stay in their hiding places. I keep checking the skin and taking blood pressure. So far no more than bruises and scratches. That I can handle. And the blood pressure is not ideal, but it is not hospital-level. I am determined.

Though I have just as much of a desire to stay far away from doctors while we are like this, I have no desire to put us in direct harm. I am not a suicidal part.

I remain as vigilant as I can for those that are.

-Roms

Blackouts

Having blackouts again.

Things are also quite fractured. No sense of teamwork. I’m just trying to keep somewhat focused so regular medication and hydration can happen at least.

Army visited this weekend and it’s almost entirely a blur or blank. I don’t think he’s the stress causing the blackouts and switching, but it seems to be worse around him.

At a loss for what to do. Communication is also extremely difficult. Haven’t been able to easily discuss what’s going on with any other parts.

I don’t want to talk to a professional about this. Last time the blackouts were this bad, anti-psychotic medication was prescribed (not always taken) and the possibility of hospitalization was urged. We don’t want those at all. Even though the ED becomes very bad and our blood pressure is shooting through the roof.

I’m worried it’s the nitro pills we have to take for the high BP. They’re new. Combined with the stress of this past week.

I don’t know.

I just want to try and keep things semi-coherent. But it’s hard.

I really hate losing time and being so split. It’s drastically better when we work as a team.

I’m at a loss right now. Trying not to get scared. Then I blackout even more.

-Roms

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.


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.


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.

Babysitting Experiences

Last night I had the pleasure of watching Shadow Dragon‘s lovely boys while she had a well-deserved night out with Puppy.

I learned some things

– Children softly singing along with Disney movies is pretty much the cutest thing ever.

– Conversation #1:
(Chatterbox [the older boy] is playing with his hotwheels. I am on Facebook…talking about airsoft guns.)
Chatterbox: You like this? *holds car up*
Me: That’s a cool gun.
Chatterbox: What? A gun?
Me: No. Wait. No. Car. Cool car. Not a gun. Crap. Sorry.

-Spitfire [the younger boy] will throw a tantrum at the drop of a hat. Or car. Best solution is to just ignore him.

– Conversation #2:
Chatterbox: Your dog licked me.
Me: She does that.
Chatterbox: Inside my mouth.
Me: Yeah…she’ll do that too.
Chatterbox: I let her.
Me: …uh. Ok then.
Chatterbox: It was gross. It tasted gross.
Me: I bet.

-Chatterbox’s response to Kryten on an episode of “Red Dwarf”:
“Why does his head look like that?”
“Well, he’s a robot…”
“A robot?”
“Yes.”
“….but why does his head look like that?”
“Hahaha. Yeah. It’s just supposed to be silly.”

Shaped like a novelty condom

– Chatterbox insisted on trying a Flaming Hot Cheeto.  He then proceeded to run to the kitchen for a drink.  Kids are brave little bugger.

-Putting them to bed wasn’t as hard as I expected- besides Spitfire trying to sneak out of their bedroom a couple times.
__________________________________________________________

All in all, it was a fun experience.

And SD and Puppy came back in a great mood which made me happy.  I love being able to feel like I’m finally beginning to pay them back for all their help.

And the kids are pretty adorable.

Two small notes

Just wanted to mention two things.  This isn’t a real post-post, just a couple things to clear up.

Sorry for clogging up your reader.

1.  We changed the theme on the blog. It’s because despite liking the aesthetic look of the previous one, it didn’t allow us to do a lot of the navigation we needed to.  It wouldn’t even do a simple drop down list for the pages so we could show more than three. Hence the switch.  Apologies if it looks awful to you.

2. Kit’s back (you may have noticed some little changes in tone of entries, the category the entry was marked it, or our “Meet the Alters” page being slightly modified).
The 30 Day Challenge is actually her idea to try and smooth things back into where she likes them mentally.  She has firmly pushed Daria down though and made Charlotte a bit more comfortable. Things are starting to resemble some normality…

Support for Claire

Claire is very upset and depressed from Monday.

Let me backtrack:

We had a couple friends over to Daddy’s house to talk about a party we’re hosting this weekend.  Most of what went on isn’t important, especially to this entry, but there was a point where one of the friends, who was a close friend of (almost exclusively) Claire’s in late middle school/early high school started talking about the stories Claire wrote back then.

And she was mean about them. I mean, nasty. I usually try not to speak ill of people, especially friends, but…it’s hard not to in this case.  Plus, it especially wounded Claire.  She knows they were middle school writings, obviously not something that would be published and read by adults.  But it was something she was proud of in middle school. It was her outlet. And she didn’t show her stories to anyone until this girl.

Rika was trying to get out and bitch out the friend, but it wasn’t the appropriate place.  I ended up having to take over for Claire, who went off into a mental-corner and hasn’t really come out.

Writing means a lot to her.  She doesn’t care about being published, or being a best seller, or anything like that.  But she does value it and only shares it with those she deems trustworthy.

(or in the case of this blog, anonymously)

I’m not really sure how to handle this.

Armes thought perhaps I could write an entry on the blog and get some support here.  Claire values all of our followers so much.

Maybe it’s a silly idea.

Choking

It was a crazy weekend full of switching and forced family outings and the move into our new place with Shadow Dragon (SD).

We had Jeff over last night to hang out and watch a movie with us and SD.  Something strange happened.  We were eating popcorn, as one normally does when watching movie, when suddenly there was a strange switching frenzy and a large piece of popcorn ended up down our windpipe.

There was then a revolving door of alters as they tried to take over, only to be triggered by the sensation of not being able to breathe.  It took Charlotte (the only one not triggered by breathing issues) to go get a glass of water and take some slow sips before we could calm down.

It was strange because we cannot figure out what happen, but both myself and Rika sense some malicious intent.  But the question is who.  Charlotte was on edge with Claire’s closeness to Jeff, but she wouldn’t let Charlotte out.  But Charlotte doesn’t do self-harm when it comes to destructive behavior.  And she’s the one who got the water.

Victoria has a very specific list of self-harm and choking does not fall on that. Plus, she has the breathing trigger as bad as the rest of us.

I’m disturbed by this.

It’s been a very strange weekend.

But it was also nice.  Claire had a nice time driving Jeff home and talking, and Charlotte managed to slip out at his door to give him her version of a goodnight kiss.  She was pleased at leaving him unhinged a bit.

Hopefully our system will mellow out more soon.