Feeling unwell

It’s been a tricky few weeks so much has happened and yet what has impacted the most has been a sore back. I have damaged a couple of the discs in my lower back and this has resulted in a trapped sciatic nerve, which is more than a little painful. In fact when it first started it felt far worse than any labour pains I had endured. My bad back has meant I’ve had to rest and that’s not been so easy for me or my alters, the other parts of me. 
Suddenly our planned trips to the beach, days out to recharge my batteries and catch the last summer sun disappeared. I couldn’t get off the sofa without great distress and so I seemed to just exist, I managed by sheer luck and determination to make therapy but sitting is so painful that it’s not been easy. However as time passes by  I am starting to deal better with the pain, I’ve managed to get myself into a safe routine that means parts of me still get time just its different to what we are used to. I had to spend a lot of time trying to work out how to do things for the different parts of me whilst feeling unwell and laid flat on my back. 

So reading has become  a lifeline, along with the TV and even some knitting, it’s been more about internal dialogue explaining why we can’t  do things we would normally have done. Some parts of me are having to except that right now I can’t do the things I would like. I can’t make the gym, or swimming and I haven’t been able to visit the zoo something I’d promised we would do in September. 

Yet life is sometimes about dealing with the unexpected, trying to keep moving forwards whilst challenged in new ways. I guess right now I’m challenged by pain and the fact I can’t move as well as I used to, but time is a healer and I will heal. My family have been really supportive and people have been very understanding when I cancel appointments or planned events. 

I guess feeling unwell has been a learning curve too and it’s also given time to think, time to rejuggle priorities and balance my diary better. Suddenly faced with being unable to move meant I had to wipe my diary clear and start again, that’s not been all bad if I’m honest. 

Now I’m managing my pain better and I can potter about the house carefully as long as I rest quite often. Whilst my diary is still quiet I have managed a few things. I made it to church this morning and whilst I felt unwell throughout and in pain it felt good to be out and to be there. I’m visiting my youngest son tomorrow evening for tea I haven’t been able to see him for a few weeks so I’m glad I’m getting the chance.  But I know I will need to rest the day afterwards to ensure the recovery process can keep going. 

I’m learning so much through this bad back, I’m learning to prioritise my family, to manage my diary better and to value the little things in life. Things I haven’t had a chance to do for ages I’m suddenly able to, knitting is one example of that I’m often too busy to do it, but now I have time and suprisngly you can knit laid flat on your back. Parts of me are understanding too and seem to appreciate the efforts made to give them time.  What I’ve realised too is that feeling unwell is not unmanageable,  yes it felt it at first but once I’d accepted the situation and got used to the fact I will be in continuous pain, things were more bearable. 

Having DID makes feeling unwell harder to manage, but it is manageable once you get your head round it. Maybe once this is over and my back fully healed I will be able to look back on this time and see the positives and not just the pain.  I hope so. For now I’m taking it one day at a time and managing my pain as best I can and I’m going to keep smiling and remember that there are people who are far worse off than me.  I will heal in time and my pain will eventually disappear, till then I plod on, me and my parts together. 
Copyright. DID DISPATCHES 2015 


Confronting the past



Please be aware that the content of this blog maybe triggering for some people.

Seven weeks ago a dear friend left hospital and moved to the town where I spent six years of my childhood. I so wanted to see her in her new home and yet it meant facing some demons of my own and I knew that would be difficult.

I had lived in this place for six years back in the 1970’s and they were not happy years, they were sadly filled with incidents of abuse and trauma. Going back would mean facing those memories head on and trying to cope with the plethora of triggers that are there. After many weeks of procrastinating I made the difficult decision to go and so earlier this week I ventured to this place full of memories and triggers.

I didn’t make this decision alone, I had discussed this with my family and briefly talked the matter over with my psychologist. It was his words that resonated the most, he had said that going would allow me to replace the negative memories of the past with positive memories of today. That seemed to make sense to me, I realised that I could let my past control me forever or I could attempt to reclaim my life.

I arranged with my friend to visit her and made plans with my daughter J, who agreed to drive me and be my supporter for the day. She knows a little about my past, but understands Dissociative Identity Disorder and so she is more than able to deal with any trigger reactions.

We travelled on bank holiday Monday and set off quite early, the journey was going to take us between 2 and 3 hours so plenty of time for me to talk internally with my alters, the other parts of me. I felt slightly anxious in the morning as we set off, but also very determined to do this and confront the past. As we got nearer to the small former mill town in the heart of Yorkshire my stress levels were rising, but I had kind of expected this so we pushed on through. I felt I was doing alright until I realised that our sat-nav was directing us on a route that past a key trigger point, there really was no other route there and my decision began to feel like a disaster waiting to happen.


Suddenly I could feel one of my alters, the fear and anxiety began to mount as I tried to communicate internally with this part of me. I did the usual talking in my head to them, then out loud, in the hope I could calm them and reduce their fears. I totally understood their fear I was taking them past a place where they had been abused, this wasn’t just going to trigger them but potentially destabilise the whole system, the whole of me.

It wasn’t easy and J suggested we pull over, but I didn’t feel that would help I knew we had to do this, we had to confront the past it was important. It was also important for my friendship as my friend isn’t going to move anytime soon and I hope to be able to be visiting her quite often. She cannot help living in a place which is full of triggers for me, and I am certain my past will not hinder this friendship that was formed in the darkest of times in hospital.

My emotions as we neared her home and the trigger house were all over the place, I was tearful, sad, afraid and much more too. My daughter kept trying to focus me on the here and now and how safe we were today, it helped to be grounded and to be reminded of why we were doing this journey. We made the decision to look away when we passed the house, but in the end I felt drawn to look at the driveway entrance which hasn’t changed in over forty years. I can recall shuddering and feeling a chill run down my spine, yet we managed to keep talking internally and keep safe. J tells me that I switched on and off throughout the journey, but I just kept feeling distance and surprised at intervals at how far we had travelled already.

Throughout the day wherever we went I passed places or buildings that triggered me, I felt as if it didn’t matter where I looked it took me straight back to the 70’s. The flats were I once lived, a school I had attended and the council estate that I lived on before I left this dull and dreary place and where I can recall being hurt. So many moments during the day, it was hard to not panic especially when I could feel the fear of those days. Everywhere I looked I saw something that reminded me of those awful days when as a young child I was robbed of my innocence and defiled by those who really didn’t care about me, my feelings or my anguish and pain.


J and I had planned to take my friend out away from the town to the rural landscape that is less than half an hour away. We did this and I felt at ease for the first time that day, I was treated to the glorious sight of bluebells; my favourite flowers and the sound of water flowing gently down the river. I felt at peace for the first time that day and my friend and I had chance to catch up on each other’s news and enjoy each other’s company. It was good to see her free from the confines of hospital, she is doing so well and I am so glad she is rebuilding her life.

The sun was shining and so we decided to have an ice cream, my friend and J queued as I sat in the sun waiting, when I suddenly realised I had lost a brief amount of time. I panicked, I felt vulnerable and thus began my internal dialogue with the alters once again. Now the dialogue is still one sided I talk in my head to them, a bit like most non DID people do self talk, and I just hope they hear, listen and respond. There is no dialogue back but I feel some emotions from some of the other parts of me, and that enables me to focus on trying to ally their fears, desperation, sadness or anxieties. I was trying desperately to establish what had caused me to switch; it really bothers me when I lose time, I realised that all around us were people speaking in a Yorkshire accent and that was really bothering parts of me. I did lots of positive reinforcement, reassuring all of me that these people were not going to harm us and that many of the people who did are no longer here.
I was able to reduce some of the anxiety and fear by the time my friend returned and I did enjoy the ice-cream.

By the time we ventured back dropping my friend of en-route I felt exhausted, I also felt proud of me, all of me for beginning to rebuild memories of this place for replacing bad ones with good.
Yes it wasn’t easy and yes I couldn’t have done it without support but I managed it, I haven’t beaten the triggers yet, there is a long way to go. However I have begun a process of challenging the past and not allowing it to ruin my present or my future.

Once home I did struggle with sleep, my alters were finding it hard not to be afraid or anxious of the past. I felt desperately sad as I began to think that I had caused all the distress that I now knew the other parts of me were feeling, I guess I felt guilty. I found myself ruminating over my past, I have so many questions that I know I may never be able to get answered. As a victim I truly believe that the impact of abuse isn’t just something that impacts you at the point of the incident or as in my case sadly incidents, the damage has lasted over forty years. The impact of that time is me being fragmented, of having Dissociative Identity Disorder and so much more, the pain hasn’t gone away no it’s damaged and invaded my very being right up until today.

The impact of confronting my past this time was that It was gone 5am by the time we managed to sleep and the impact of that poor sleep lasted into Tuesday. Yet I know that I did the right thing by going and I would do it again, for it is only by challenging the past that I can build a better future for me, all of me.


Copyright DID Dispatches 2014

Self harm and the attitudes of medical professionals

Self harm and the attitudes of medical professionals


self harm

This week I heard from a friend who had to attend her local hospital to receive treatment as a result of self harm and her treatment was unfortunately not very helpful. This led me to thinking about the times I either attended A & E or was taken there by the police for treatment, usually as a result of self harming or being deemed mentally unwell and requiring treatment.

It is nearly ten years since my first ever hospital admission, but for many months before I had hidden the self harm that was taking place. I tried hard to wear long sleeves to hide the cuts and dressings which I needed to stem bleeding etc. I was determined not to require anyone to know that I felt so desperate and confused that I could only survive by self harming. This was in the form of cuts, burns, starvation, restricting my fluid intake or overdoses, by the time I was admitted to hospital my self harm was a daily occurrence such was the turmoil I found myself in.

I hid my self harm from medical professionals, my family and my friends no one but me; I thought, knew I was living this life. I can recall going out for days with the children carrying implements in my bag ready to harm, and hibernating in bathrooms and cutting during these days out. I would feel myself getting so distressed during the day that I couldn’t survive any longer and so self harm took place. Yet once it was done and I felt a wave of release that I had punished myself which I felt I deserved I could then calmly walk back out and carry on with life.

I was confused to such an extent that I believed I needed to punish myself because that way I would be safe from others hurting me, and I was terrified that past abusers would come and hunt me down and hurt me. I even had a notion that because one of my abusers was my mother that I was bad as I had her blood inside me, thus if I bled enough I would rid myself of her badness.

Now all this time no one knew how much I was struggling, the GP knew I wasn’t too great but all they kept saying was ‘take time out and relax more’, and ‘all women go through these phases’.
They never asked if I felt suicidal or what scale my mood was, they did eventually arrange for me to see a doctor and thereafter just told me I was on a waiting list to see a psychiatrist. Yet in the meantime I was continually told to ‘hang in there’, occasionally they’d tell me things would improve.

Of course things just kept getting worse and when I attended the GP one day and I saw a different doctor who asked to test my blood pressure; because I looked like I was going to faint, he saw the wounds that by now littered my arms. Recent cuts had been deeper and the blood loss alongside starving myself wasn’t helping me feel any better. It was then that he made the call and I was suddenly being sent to the local psychiatric unit for assessment. At this time I realised my eldest child had sensed something was wrong and had suspected I was self injuring, but we had both said nothing until I was en-route to the unit.


A & E staff from the start were slightly arrogant and mainly uncaring, if I had to attend as a result of cutting I lost count of the times I felt to blame by their attitude towards me. It was as if they weren’t best pleased to be treating me after all in their eyes I had self inflicted this injury upon myself, they never looked beyond the injury to the person. On only one occasion can I recall a doctor being helpful, he was actually concerned for me wanting to know why I hurt and was I getting help for my mental health. He treated me like a human being and not an attention seeking time waster which is what many other medical professionals seemed to treat me as.

The sad fact is the attitudes that I faced ten years ago still exist today, that means the medical profession has failed to learn about or understand self harming behaviours in a decade. That concerns me because I am aware of the efforts of so many different groups including government health organisations whose aim was to educate about self harm and improve outcomes for patients. A decade ago these organisation were trying to produce guidance to end the stigma that exists around those who self harm, if attitudes haven’t changed does that mean their efforts failed?

Self harm is not something we should ignore or take for granted for behind every scar, every injury there is human suffering. I didn’t harm for the fun of it and if I wanted to seek attention believe me I can think of lots of better ways of doing that. I wasn’t time wasting either, I was in acute emotional distress and I needed help. I couldn’t explain the anguish I was going through, the only way I could find to deal with the turmoil that was my life was to inflict injuries upon my own body.

Be that cutting, burning, overdosing or restricting the amount of food or fluids I took in, each act was either an attempt to deal with intense pain and turmoil, or the result of irrational thoughts. I wasn’t doing this because I enjoyed it, truth be known I hated myself for doing it, in fact I loathed my scars. The reality was I tried so desperately to avoid seeking medical attention as the last place I wanted to go to was A & E where I would be made to feel even more ashamed and be stigmatised.

Self harm controlled me a decade ago and at times of crisis it can still take control of my life today, it is sadly my default position when the pain is too much. Now when I lapse back into self harming I tend to injure in other ways in the hope it’s less visual, but it’s still harming all the same. Now I am not proud of the fact I self harm and I don’t want these feelings either, I would like to be free of self harm and yet I now understand it is a symptom of the life I lived as a child. A life which caused untold damage and will take a long time to deal with and heal from, my self harming is a symptom of my mental health not the cause.

The cause is my past and today I am having to face the harsh reality that I was betrayed, abused and psychologically damaged. Currently I am feeling emotions for the first time and I am starting to grieve over the fact I was hurt, I’m starting to come to terms with the dawning realisation that the horrific memories I hold and continue to recall don’t belong to my alters at all. They just carry my memories, and it was this body, it was me as a child and a teenager who the abusers defiled. Believe me that’s tough, it’s a harsh journey survivors walk there is a lot of pain and anguish that has to be processed and dealt with.

Perhaps when dealing with a person who is self harming instead of vilifying them and judging them medical professionals should remember to gently seek out the cause of this symptom. They should in my opinion treat those who self harm with the dignity, care and respect they so badly need, and they should afford them the right treatment to help them move forwards.

Copyright DID Dispatches 2014




Making my journey with D.I.D bear-able

Making my journey with D.I.D bear-able


My Little parts are keen for us to introduce our special friend

Ever since my melt down point a decade ago I have had the company of a cuddly creature to keep me feeling safe. Initially this was a rather large creature who filled my arms and to be fair wasn’t so easy to carry. After 2 years my children and I chose a new creature whose size made it easier for me to carry and to discretely transport around.

Now my cuddly creatures are not live animals, no there are teddy bears called Cuddles and Ted, between the they have been with me throughout my journey through the mental health system. Now cuddles was rather cumbersome due to her size, it made it difficult to carry her around and so she is now retired to safe storage but Ted she has been with me for 8 years now and is a daily part of my life.

I’m not afraid to admit I have her, in fact until a couple of years ago I couldn’t leave her at any point in the day. Ted was carried in my arms daily, at home and when we went out she has been a source of comfort and in many ways has given my little alters a sense of grounding and security which has been significantly helpful.

Ted has been with me in all bar two of my acute hospitalisations, she’s been locked in a forensic secure unit and a non-forensic one too, she’s endured being detained by the police when we were repatriated to hospital in the cage of a police van. She’s been with me when I have tried to end my suffering and when I have self harmed, in fact Ted has been through every step of the journey since 2006. She has spent some 130 plus weeks in hospital, her predecessor cuddles spent approximately 65 weeks in hospital.

I guess when I carried her everywhere I stood out, she and I were a partnership and yes she was my security blanket if you like and some patients and certainly some staff found it difficult to deal with this women and her bear. I was unable to cope with life, with the memories and the flashbacks which filled me with dread and fear, with the confusion and anxiety I felt I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole to stop my anguish and my pain.

I can recall being verbally attacked by a stranger who took offence to me and my bear, he said ‘people like you should be locked away’ and I guess that was easy for him to say but I wasn’t always this wreck. I am a mum and I was once a wife, I worked hard and contributed to society I never expected to find myself in a mental hospital nor carrying a bear and yet it happened. I knew I had a tough start in life but I hoped I’d managed to leave it all behind, I thought I had, but then the reality was that it was just hidden away. You see in truth much pain and anguish from my past was hidden deep inside of me waiting to reveal itself when I was least expecting it. I didn’t need a random stranger attacking me for carrying a bear I felt bad enough about myself who I was and the fact I couldn’t cope.


Ted has been a comfort that I needed through the darkest of days she has been there and I am not ashamed that I needed her. She has kept me grounded at times especially when I have suffered flashbacks and memories. I could keep telling myself & all my alters, all the parts of me that when bad happened we didn’t have Ted and yet now we did and that meant we were safe.

As a child I only recall one teddy bear he came from a bad person as a reward for being ‘a good girl’ for not telling when the person hurt me and yet I loved that bear. I remember coming home from school and my bear being gone, my mother had decided I had to be punished for something and taking that bear away was my punishment. I didn’t have another bear, unlike most children for me toys were rare and they came and they went as a form of control.

When my children bought me Cuddles I was elated and so grateful and yes she served me well when I first hit melt down, but her size made her harder to carry. But like Ted she took so many of my tears as I could hold her and let out the pain that ripped deep into me at that time, I find emotions so hard that it’s impossible for me to explain them to others easily, to express them and yet I needed to.

My cuddly friends have been a part of each day now for a decade and I doubt I could have managed without them, it felt like they were attached to me, it probably looked like that to the world. We were this person who went everywhere with her bear and people became used to that, some became so accustomed to her they no longer saw her.

About two years ago I made the decision to put Ted inside my bag when I went out, she was still with me 24/7 but she was no longer a visual constant in my day to day life. I remember the first time I placed her in my bag I felt bereft, but I knew it was the right time to stop carrying her in my arms all the time. Part of my decision was based upon the fact that my constantly carrying this bear had caused me significant muscular issues which required physiotherapy treatment. For years I had held her in my arm so had held my arm in a bent position this had caused muscle weakness and tension and when I realised that all this pain and discomfort was a result of my needing Ted I knew I had to take action.


For a further year Ted was still a constant, she was carried around everywhere I went, the doctors, the shops, even for a McDonalds. Then one day I forgot her she was left sat at home on my bed and I ventured off to an appointment, by the time I realised we didn’t have time to return to get her. I had to face the fact that we would have to survive without her for these few hours and of course we did, we managed and it led to more and more organised opportunities where Ted stayed home. I had some control over this so if I was struggling or facing a difficult time Ted came along, but if I felt we could manage well then she stayed home.

Now Ted lives on my bed and there are times she comes with us, so every time we attend psychology she comes along too. When I face Care plan meetings Ted comes too, holidays and other times away from home involving overnight stays she is part of my luggage. But I can now manage without her when I am shopping, or attending the GP’s, visiting friends or going for a coffee. Ted probably spends 50% of her time on my bed and 50% of her time in my bag or on the sofa, it’s a far cry from my carrying her 24/7.

This week I’m attending an event which means I’m away from home, so Ted comes too she will stay part of her time on my hotel bed but I know she’ll be with me when I need her. There will be times when I do need her, times when I feel vulnerable or I am switching more and I need to try and ground myself.

Now it maybe hard for people to understand why I a grown women need a bear but of course parts of me are little and need the comfort a bear gives. She also allows me to know that the past is over and that is so important to me. I am fortunate that my family accept her as a necessary part of my life currently, they don’t nor have they ever judged us. In fact my children who are adults themselves will often say hello to her and they occasionally buy a new outfit for her. It’s as if they understand the role she has and continues to play in our life.

I never expected this small bear Ted would become so important to me and obviously carrying her everywhere day in and day out she has weathered quite a lot, but I can’t imagine replacing her she will just age and become more loved as time progresses. She may not come out with me as often and one day she may just live on my bed, but for now Ted will keep playing whatever role I and all my parts need her too. Be that grounder, comforter or as a sign of reassurance Ted is a significant part of my healing journey and I’m glad she is part of our life.


Copyright: DID Dispatches 2014

Headache nightmare -the pain of Dissociative Identity Disorder



One of the difficulties I encounter with my dissociative disorder is the awful headaches which can plague my days and my nights. They tend to be random in pattern and frequency so it is impossible to predict when they will suddenly strike.

Headaches often follow or precede a period of significant switching or come as part of a period of stress or anxiety. This week has been particularly bad for me as we suffered headaches on three consecutive days at the start of the week, these rendered me incapable of functioning in a way that impacted significantly upon my life.

On Monday following a positive and productive therapy session during which I felt I had made a breakthrough, I felt exhausted and I am not sure if the tiredness contributed to the initial headache or not. I was also facing a period of stress, somethings were going on in my life which were triggering me and generating stress and so potentially this caused me issues too.

The stress continued into the next two days and thus the headache seemed set on staying around, now unless you have had such a headache it’s hard to comprehend the impact or the pain. I felt as if my head was going to explode, it was full of pressure and the pain was so bad at times that I couldn’t cope with any light. I felt like a hermit hiding inside my house with the curtains drawn in broad day light, a cold compress on my head and sunglasses on to shield me even more from any light that remained.

Now normally when I encounter a switching headache it can last up to 24 hours but no more, this week they kept on coming, weakening a little and then crescendoing to a peak of pain again. In the end desperate I visited my GP’s which I am loathe to do at the best of times and they suggested I take a third pain killer.

On Wednesday I was so doped up on pain killers that I couldn’t function at all, but I had been crying so much with the pain it felt impossible to go on, you see the difficulty with such headaches is that not only do I suffer but my alters do too. Try explaining to a little alter that this awful pain will pass It isn’t easy and they don’t really understand at all, if you have ever encountered a poorly child you will understand the difficulties. At one point I was crying in pain and I couldn’t say whose tears they were, mine or the little parts of me or both.


Headaches do pass but on this occasion it took three days and a lot of suffering before it went and of course I am always conscious we could suffer another headache at any point, such is life with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

I’m aware that I am not alone in suffering from headaches or indeed other somatoform symptoms, it’s part of having a trauma related condition. The body sometimes exhibits the pain of trauma and psychological suffering in a physical way, be that a headache or indeed a pain in my stomach or other physical conditions.

I know certain times one of my alters suffers the most excruciating abdominal pain and before I was diagnosed with D.I.D, I underwent so many tests to try and establish what was causing this pain and all the tests came back inconclusive.

It was only many months after my diagnosis that I began to understand this pain which came and went without warning, was attributed to a different part of me, it’s part of her memory I believe and my body exhibits that pain in a physical way. This doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real, it is actually very real yet instead of being the result of a physical condition it’s the result of my trauma, it’s a somatoform symptom.

I guess its a bit like when people feel sick when they are anxious about something, the sickness is as real as any other form of sickness, yet it’s root cause is linked to the anxiety rather than any bug or virus.

This week I cannot be certain if my headaches were linked to the switching or indeed the stress I was feeling, but either way I know it is part of the legacy of being a victim of trauma, a legacy which sadly lasts long after the event.

I am aware that many people I know with a trauma related condition be that Dissociative Identity Disorder or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder suffer from physical illnesses or symptoms which stem from their trauma. It is I guess part of life that we have to contend with, a part of life that often gets overlooked by professionals and yet which can cause significant disruption to our lives.

I was told once of a famous quote about trauma I think it sums things up really well, it certainly sums up me, my alters and at times our life. The quote goes something like this:


I have found out to my cost this week that symptoms have plagued me, caused significant disruption to my week and lost me nearly 3 days. 3 days that I can ill afford to lose as I try and rebuild my life, work at understanding my condition and my alters, the other parts of me.

This week it feels as if I am playing catch up as we try and regroup and work at calming those alters disrupted by these symptoms and the pain. I’m determined to not let the symptoms beat me I want to move forward, it’s important to me. Yet I do wonder if the people responsible for my trauma ever really understand the pain and the damage they caused, sadly I very much doubt they do.

Copyright DID Dispatches 2014

Melt down moment – the legacy of blame

This is a quick post but one I feel led to write. Today I have been so aware of how being a multiple impacts my life. Even when I am not contending with the switching or lost time, there are so many other aspects of dissociative identity disorder that impact my life.
This morning began with my ensuring time for my little alters so that entailed me watching cartoons as I know giving them time in the day helps with my sleeping at night.
But then I set time aside to try and get to know a specific alter, the one I have been feeling recently.  I could feel them but nothing else, so try as I might and with as much effort as I could muster I was hoping this might improve. 
I am not sure what I was hoping for but I felt if only I could hear them, after all they have communicated with my family so why not me.
But sadly nothing happened I sensed their presence as I was experiencing their feelings but I didn’t hear them. We just don’t have communication with them.
The situation perplexes me and causes me distress, I read on various social media sites that others seem to have this ability and they say they have co-consciousness too. What is wrong with me that I can’t make this happen. 
I began to spiral and get distressed this caused me to lose time, time I couldn’t afford to lose. 
When I came back to awareness I felt so low in mood, I felt a failure.  A failure because I can’t make the progress I think I need to, no one is placing these demands upon me except me.
But still I blamed myself and the tears began to fall down my face as I cried in sorrow and pain.
After sometime I managed to stop but felt plagued with thoughts of being inadequate and stupid.
Then it hit me, as a child I always felt to blame,  that everything that was wrong in my life was my fault. As an adult I still tend to put myself down and the feelings of failure today were just yet another aspect of the psychological damage which is a result of my past.
As a multiple and a former victim I have to deal with the psychological impact not only of the dissociation but also of the negative thought patterns that are part of my normal default. 
So a few hours later and I am no longer crying uncontrollably but I still feel an  inadequacy in me for not being able to communicate with the alters.
I can only hope this improves tomorrow and I know it’s something that I will need to raise in my next therapy session.