Sliding down the rabbit hole


Fair warning.

In October 2013 I was looking for Halloween costumes with a friend of mine.  At the time, I had no idea of the shit storm I was about to sail into in life, and i was looking for something fun to wear to an annual party hosted by friends of mine.

I didn’t know what I was going to pick, but I knew it wasn’t going to be anything sexy or slutty.  A couple of years earlier we had attended the party dressed as Jack the Ripper and one of his victims (telling), and I had poured myself into an uncomfortable bustier that made me miserable for the entire evening.  I was going for comfort, not speed.

At the costume store, we goofed around and tried on a bunch of masks, taking photos as we went.  I began circling the evil clown masks.  I selected one that called to me.  When I tried on the mask, I felt oddly exhilarated.

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It was dark, and evil, and I had to have it.  I wanted to be ‘bad’ all of a sudden.

I had never chosen a costume this dark in my life, but suddenly I was intent on becoming the most disturbing clown I could imagine.  I rented a outfit and was fully engaged in bringing this disturbing character to life.  This behavior was completely outside of my usual norm.

On the night of the party, I packed an extra bag.  I had makeup-wipes, some makeup, and a change of clothing.  I instinctively knew I needed an ‘out’ if I changed my mind.

When I arrived at the party, all suited up, I was the embodiment of someone’s worst nightmare.

I'm on the left, with the killer glare.
I’m on the left, with the killer glare.

It was a very interesting social experiment.  Even though my friends knew it was me, they stayed away.  Strangers had no interest in introducing themselves. Most people avoided eye contact completely, and moved away if I joined their group to chat.

Inside that costume, I felt like the character.  I felt my eyes narrow, and my gaze linger coldly on the guests.  I was numb to their obvious discomfort.  I invited them to feel afraid. Another part of me was angry at the way people were avoiding me.  I am sure I was a very disturbing party guest for some.  There was a part of me that relished the discomfort I was causing.

I let that darkness surround me completely, and it was an experience I don’t have words for.  I was that character.  I hated everyone there when I was in that costume.

It was my first, and only foray into embodiment of evil.

I lasted about an hour.

I couldn’t continue to feel so outside of everyone else.  Showing people one of my darkest parts started to unnerve me.   I became physically uncomfortable, and went to the bathroom to remove my costume, and change back into the ‘me’ everyone knew.

I sometimes wonder if that wasn’t the beginning of my slippery slide into realizing that my mind was holding onto some very old secrets.

When I began to experience the first PTSD flashbacks, that clown mask in the basement taunted me.  I knew it was down there, and one day in late December, I was compelled to find it, and get it out of my house.  Throwing it in the garbage wasn’t enough.  Something in me demanded that it be burned, along with whatever ‘thing’ I uncovered in myself that night.  I think this was my first meeting with the Psycho, even if I wasn’t aware of it at the time.

I burned the shit out of that thing.
I burned the shit out of that thing.  It burned for a LONG time.

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Manic Musings~ Collected thoughts



It’s embarrassing stuff

.1) I bought a hammer and CrazyTrain immediately reminded me that Jesus was a carpenter (therefore, I am probably Jesus).  I wish I was making this stuff up

2) at the same hardware store, a kindly old gentleman of austrian descent wished me a merry christmas, ‘in case he didn’t see me’.  AdorablePsycho wondered if he was sensing that I was going to die soon, and was saying goodbye to me in the final sense.  This works nicely with the common fear that I really am going to die soon.  I have sorted my whole life out and finally seem to have everything I ever wanted.  Therefore, Adorable Psycho thinks the other shoe is due to drop and kick the legs out from under me.  When you are worried that you are going to die, I assure you there is a plethoria of meaningless shit in life that can provide proof to your meanest alter.

3)An alternate theory AdorablePsycho suggests is that he is trying to make me think I’m going to die, by inferring that he won’t see me again.  There is no winning against AP.  He has worked the magical thinking from all angles.  When your worst enemy acts like your best friend, he learns all of your tricks and knows how to use them against you.

4) My husband called me from work in his dump truck.  The sound quality was excellent.  AP starts collecting evidence to support the fact that his is not really at work, and is probably lying to me.  If I were to follow this line of thinking, I would have him cozied up with a second family I don’t know about.  Ridiculous, but these are the malignant thoughts that need to be examined, exposed and shared.

I have been ignoring these random thoughts for so long that I forget how ridiculous they can be.  I’m going to try to remember as many as possible so I can see how invasive they are.

Fragments of Me



Shower Girl arrived early in the new year, and stayed on and off, for about 10 days, in collaboration with Anima.  She is my fearfully religious fragment.  She spent most of her time on the shower floor, praying for sanity.  She felt imagery related to Joan of Arc, Mary (mother of JC), and the prostitute in the bible.  She scared the shit out of me.  My husband and my therapist were also concerned about her, but I didn’t tell anyone until months later.  I would have been committed if anyone was with me when she appeared.   She was completely out of control and unable to care for herself.  Totally afraid and agitated.  I believe she made a brief appearance over the Easter long weekend.  She used her influence to get religious again, which is probably why she didn’t last long.  She had me believing I was pregnant, and it was likely her who was devastated (twice) when it turned out to be perimenopause, and not pregnancy that had delayed my periods.  I’m fairly certain she thought she was Mary, and that the baby was going to be the next Jesus.  I am not consciously sure of that, but I suspect it.

Fancy is selfish and sometimes mean.  She is judgmental, short-tempered and irritable. She is also fun and flashy.  She’s entertaining and gregarious.  She wouldn’t think twice to ditch plans if she got a better offer. She ignores my needs and desires and serves her own agenda.  She is responsible for a lot of self-sabotage, and bad choices in my life.  She has stars in her eyes, and only wants to see things her way.  She is an attention whore.  She like jewelry and fashion, but she rarely gets to wear what she buys.  She has a penchant for very high, unpractical heels, lingerie and jewelry.  I have many earring/necklace sets that she buys, and I can never wear because they are ridiculous.  I would estimate that she has purchased 10 pairs of heels that we are never going to be able to wear.  She is probably who filled my closet with colourful, semi-stylish clothing.  She takes over when I am anxious in social situations.

The Mother is a recent addition to the crew.  She has been dormant or inactive until recently.  I believe she is an alter I created in the past 3 years to model the good mothering behavior I saw from a friend.  I always admired this friend, and I am proud that Mother has embraced the role so naturally. Her emergence has created a seamless front in my alter structure.  There is someone in place for every part of my life. Her influence became very dominant when I started taking Biphentin.   Within 1 month of starting the med, I had cleaned/organized/purged my entire home, all 3 levels.  Tackling the basement was the most unbelievable job I did.  I had a friend instigate the job, and I heartily agreed to tackle it with her.  Within 6 hours, the basement (my personal horror) was clean and organized.  There is a good chance the medication unearthed some OCD in me, as I have never in my life been tidy, or organized.  Now the OCD is my bff, and I love having a clean, orderly home.

AdorablePsycho is the alter that actively tries to fuck with me.  If there is a mental loophole, AP will find it and exploit it.  No topic is off limits.  He loves to make me afraid of losing my husband and kids.  There is no shortage of ways in which AP tosses out mental bombs. AP also enjoys suggesting that I am under the control of aliens, and that every time my ass hurts, I am having an anal probe. (UGH, I know RIGHT?) When I have a PTSD flashback, AP is right there to start wondering if this is a medical emergency that will cause me to die.  All day long, every day, these malignant thoughts arrive and are pushed away by The Gatekeeper.  I often don’t hear the thoughts anymore, or they don’t register in my awareness.  AP has greatest access to me when I am vulnerable.  Tired, under the influence, worried…these are his favorite states of being.  I understand that he lives to fuck with my head, and this is the only alter I would like to remove permanently.  I do not want this fragment in my integration process.  I am still unsure if this is even possible.

CrazyTrain is the alter that entertains any idea that crosses my head.  When AP and CT get together, it’s a hot mess.  Crazy train isn’t actively fucking with me as much as she is excitable, wide-eyed, and curious.  She thinks without limits, and as great as that can be, it goes rogue at times as well.   CrazyTrain usually starts the train on a halfway reasonable track, and then rides it right out to lala land.  Sometimes CrazyTrain and Adorable Psycho work together.  AP is psychotic.  He takes the ideas and twists them into physically painful thoughts, while CT is mostly just an asshole.

The Zealot has a great number of religious topics it likes to explore.  It wants me to spend time thinking about angels and demons, God and the devil.  It has made me move closer to, and then further away from religion.  I don’t know if I believe in God, which causes some anxiety.  On some level I have bought into the idea that you have to accept Jesus/God to be saved.  On another level, I feel like a good ‘father’ would encourage mw to explore my beliefs and live my own truth, rather than having beliefs forcefully rammed into my consciousness.  I feel this alter has given me more reason to distrust and move away from the concept of God/the devil.  I often think that we all have a devil, or a judas, inside of us.  I just know mine a bit more intimately than most do.

The Professor/The Scientist is one of my favorite alters.  I liken this alter to the feeling of Albert Einstein, or Nikolas Tesla in my head.  It is the energy of a creative-thinker, and a very curious mind.  The ideas I have when this alter is present are often clearly not my own, and I need to pay attention, as I lose the thoughts easily.  It introduces ideas I have never thought about.  It examines things in a logical and analytical way.  It attempts to put appropriate patterns together.  It is most interested in hacking the brain, and reverse-engineering my habits and behaviors.  It has allowed me to see that few of the things I was taught about life are real, and that things are much more interesting than I could ever have imagined.  The Professor often works with The Artist to collaborate on archetypal ideas in photography.  Although the professor doesn’t usually do the shooting (but has before), he really enjoys the editing and digital creation.  The Professor is the driving force behind my writing.  It has always shown me that if I write things down in any altered state, the rest of me can read about what is happening.  When I want to remember something, the professor sets alarms, writes notes, sets reminders.  The professor loves the mother, and is relieved at the changes in our environment since she arrived.  I can shift fairly easily into this alter, but it is very ‘dry’ and mathematical most of the time, so it’s not as much fun as when it gets creative.

My Scared Child shakes.  When she is inside my body, the vibrations are intense.  I can shiver incessantly (although not necessarily cold) and my body shakes and vibrates.  It is physically uncomfortable, but I sense that when she is present, she is releasing old tension.  She is young, and doesn’t speak.  I recently felt her inside of me as I was have a PTSD episode.  I felt like somewhere in time, my Scared Child was experiencing the actual trauma, while I held her in my space and calmed her through it.  I felt like i was creating a space for her to go while her body absorbed some trauma.  She and I sat together in this space until her body stopped shaking, and the episode ended.   I don’t see much of her, but I try to hold space for her whenever she is around.  She really needs the help, so when she surfaces, we turn all attention toward her needs.

Anima feels like the consciousness of my body, my ‘animal’.  We only became reacquainted this year, after I woke up ‘newborn’ on January 1, 2014.  For 2 weeks, she and I coexisted, only meeting her basic needs.  She likes natural fabrics, raw food, no hair/makeup.  I wear cotton or wool when she is present.  She likes to feel ‘contained’ in my clothes, and loves snug clothes that make her feel secure.  She doesn’t like things to be tight, or restrictive. She is the part of me that wants to return to pioneer life.  She was instrumental in the decision to cut my hair, and once I did that, she and I felt bonded.  For the first time since i was about 14, I look in the mirror and think it is ‘me’. She and I have been at odds because of my self-destructive behavior most of my life.  She is angry about a few of the choices I have made.   I believe we are working well together towards complete integration.

The Artist was born a long time ago, but infrequently surfaced until this year. There is an obsessive drive to explore creative expression.  The Artist doesn’t care about eating, or drinking or going to the bathroom.  He/she is often the part of me that shoots, but once I am done, he/she quickly leaves.  He/she doesn’t care for ‘regular life’, and is only interested in the extremes in life.   I was manic a great deal of the time The Artist was with me from February-May.  It kept me busy following the rules of the art project I was working on.  It was The Artist that instigated the Crying Ladies, although it was originally a different concept. The Artist was furious that no one could see the importance of crying in art, and now I roll my eyes at that thought.  However, it was extremely real at the time, and I needed that outrage and fury as I imploded in front of my colleagues and community.  The Artist incubates the ideas it hears, and then sees what scraps can be created from it.  I remember how excited he/she was when I shot the first PTSD flashback.  I understood what it felt like to be Matisse, Picasso, Michelangelo.  It doesn’t matter if your work resonates with anyone else, when it resonates with you, you are THE ARTIST.  I strongly identified with Marina Abramovich and her ‘The Artist is Present’ piece for the MOMA.  I understood that she was doing what I was doing, but in a different way.  When my Artist is present, I feel alive and completely absorbed.  I would get very little done if The Artist spent a great deal of time at the wheel.

The Gatekeeper was the first alter I put into place on purpose.  Before I knew this was DID, I knew there was ideas in my head that weren’t right.  The Gatekeeper was a mental version of my husband, who was kind and fair in his thinking.  The Gatekeeper was the protector and the hero.  No thoughts were allowed to get through my sober mind without the Gatekeeper running them through the filter.  One of the first filters I used was in response to my brother, who used to like making me upset.  I would say: “If this was said to you by anyone other than your brother, would it make you upset?”.  It was this very powerful mental filtering that saved my sanity when things got very hairy in my head.  When you start to challenge alters, they rear up bigger and louder to try to scare you off.   I owe my sanity to My Gatekeeper.