Dissociative Idenity Disorder is a Superpower

We found a show this weekend on Disney. It’s a Superhero show called Moon Knight. The Superhero has DID.  The overall series is just okay but we do like the DID representation quite a bit.

There are only two guys, Marc and Steven and a third alluded to in the last episode. The first part mostly just shows the struggles. The internal conflict, civil wars and power struggles over who gets the front, but the show doesn’t make light of it or make fun of it.  In real life, that’s all that outside people see. Our chaos drags other people into our internal world without a compass. Our calm/safe world pushes people out unless you pass an extensive test showing y’all won’t hurt us more and again. Because of that, I think that people believe that there is only chaos inside, a cacophony instead of a chorus.  It can be but it’s a minority of the time. We have infighting, that’s when other people notice that something is off. Trying to kill another person or yourself, inside, with only one body, makes for difficult situations, as does the lost time but even that is usually because of the expectations in the outside world. 

The rest of the time, it’s calm, not quiet though. We can’t imagine what quiet would feel like. It seems sad. Lonely. We feel bad for singletons. We’ve only been alone for a little while y’all have been alone everyday of your lives. 

What do you do when you're driving down the street and a wave grief fills you up so much it leaks out of your eyes?  We can feel that together and spread it out thinner so it doesn’t ache so much. We can negotiate who can hold the pain easier. 

When it feels like someone is standing on your stomach and you can’t breathe out and your chest is on fire and you can’t breathe in and everything goes fuzzy, with no voice, just helplessness, where do you go?

Singletons are just left holding a weight that is too heavy to hold all by yourselves.  

The goal has always seemed to be a way to find our way back to being one. That does seem logical, efficient and maybe easier to navigate but it also feels empty. 

Dissociative Identity Disorder is misnamed. It is anything but a disorder. There’s a lot more order than disorder. We found a show this weekend on Disney. It’s a Superhero show called Moon Knight. The Superhero has DID. The overall series is pretty good, and we like the DID representation quite a bit.

There are only two guys, Marc and Steven, and a third is alluded to. The first part mostly shows the struggles. There are internal conflicts, civil wars, and power struggles over who gets the front, but the show doesn’t make light of it or make fun of it.  

In real life, that’s all that outside people see. Our chaos drags other people into our internal world without a compass. Our calm/safe world pushes people out unless you pass an extensive test showing y’all won’t hurt us more and again. Because of that, people believe there is only chaos inside, a cacophony instead of a chorus.  It can be, but it’s only a minority of the time. We have infighting when other people notice something is off. Trying to kill another person or yourself inside, with only one body, makes for difficult situations, as does the lost time, but even that is usually because of the expectations in the outside world. 

What does dissociation feel like?

A common analogy is that dissociating is like daydreaming and passing your exit on the highway. We can work with that because it does help a singleton internalize the experience, and it's not wrong. Highway hypnosis, also known as "white line fever,” is a trance-like state that can occur when driving long distances on a highway, especially on a familiar route. A partial or complete loss of awareness, reduced brain activity, and a lack of focus on surroundings characterize it. Drivers may experience a distorted sense of time and have difficulty recalling the details of the drive—highway hypnosis. We believe that this is what makes dissociating individuals highly suggestible. We have a nasty case of “White Line Fever.” Recently, we discovered that this has become a point of contention regarding the validity of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), and there is some merit to that debate. This technique was used intentionally on us, implanting a "wake-up" word in some of our minds. Therefore, we needed to find a counselor we could trust not to use those words to their benefit.

How it feels to come to the front:

Coming to the front feels like that optical illusion that you see when your car isn’t moving and the next car next to gets a red light.  You catch the moving car out of the corner of your eyes and feel like the car is moving backwards.  It can even feel bright outside and my eyes have to get used to light when I get pulled to the front. It can be disconcerting.  It takes a minute to be able to respond if we are switchie.  Another act of patience, she has to tell us over and over if the routine is going to change.  That fuzzy in between can be a problem as well as depending on someone passing on the memo to all of us. Everyday she holds our head, asks them to look her in the eye and listen

When we decide whether or not to tell a person that we are here, we self-check before making any personal disclosure. Why are we saying it, and to whom is the information beneficial? Know your audience and consider your timing. One provider we’ve encountered while in acute care was skeptical of the diagnosis.  We would always interview providers by tossing out a piece of bait, some painful feelings that we had, and then we would see how they would respond. If that went well, we would tell them we are here. If they dismissed us, we wouldn’t even bother to explain. We’ve tried to believe we are not here either, but we haven't had much success with that approach.

We needed to get a copy of our medical records and laugh now when we look at them.  We were admitted to the same state hospital under the care of the same providers three times.  Shit, you're not; they gave us almost every "personality disorder,’ on the market.  Borderline, Avoidant, Anti-Social, Dependent, and Obsessive with a healthy dose of Bipolar I with psychotic features,  depression, anxiety, and ADHD. Somehow, this was easier for them to chew than PTSD with severe dissociation. We still play this game with ourselves when one of us spins about having it or not so we can dismiss each other.

When we decide whether or not to tell a person that we are here, we self-check before making any personal disclosure. Why are we saying it, and to whom is the information beneficial? Know your audience and consider your timing. One provider we’ve encountered while in acute care was skeptical of the diagnosis.  We would always interview providers by tossing out a piece of bait, some painful feelings that we had, and then we would see how they would respond. If that went well, we would tell them we are here. If they dismissed us, we wouldn’t even bother to explain. We’ve tried to believe we are not here either, but we haven't had much success with that approach.

We needed to get a copy of our medical records and laugh now when we look at them.  We were admitted to the same state hospital under the care of the same providers three times.  Shit, you're not; they gave us almost every "personality disorder,’ on the market.  Borderline, Avoidant, Anti-Social, Dependent, and Obsessive with a healthy dose of Bipolar I with psychotic features,  depression, anxiety, and ADHD. Somehow, this was easier for them to chew than PTSD with severe dissociation. We still play this game with ourselves when one of us spins about having it or not so we can dismiss each other.

Sharing Our World with Singletons

Highway Hypnosis

When we begin to explain what dissociation feels like for us, we use a familiar analogy. Dissociating is like daydreaming and passing your exit on the highway. We can work with that because it does help a singleton internalize the experience, and it's not wrong. Highway hypnosis, also known as "white line fever,” is a trance-like state that can occur when driving long distances on a highway, especially on a familiar route. A partial or complete loss of awareness, reduced brain activity, and a lack of focus on surroundings characterize it. Drivers may experience a distorted sense of time and have difficulty recalling the details of the drive—highway hypnosis. 

We drove from Utah to Washington and back a few times a year. When we listen to an audiobook, we have to be careful. We would pass our exits, and once we missed an exit and ended up in Pocatello, Idaho, before we noticed. There is only one in and one way out of Pocatello, so it was a long drive back. Another time, we drove past Snowville and headed through NoWhere, Utah. We didn't notice how much gas was in the tank until we hit the point of no return. We drive by muscle memory and not our brain sparking. We think that this is what makes dissociating individuals highly suggestible. We have a nasty case of “White Line Fever.”

Coming to the front feels like that optical illusion you see when your car isn’t moving, and the car next to you gets a green light.  You catch the moving vehicle out of the corner of your eye, and it feels like your car is moving backward. We even hit the brakes of the turned-off vehicle.  Fronting feels like slamming on the brakes during an optical illusion.  It can feel bright outside; our eyes pour water, and we get used to the light. It can be disconcerting at best, and It takes a minute to respond to questions if we are switchy. The fuzzy in-between place of switching is when the parked car starts rolling backward, and we don’t know that we are in a car.

This also leads to very real everyday problems. We lose our keys before they get hung up on the hook. We can’t remember why we are somewhere; it’s not like going into a different room and having it slip your mind about what you went there for. We are in some McDonald’s drive-thru somewhere in the world, wondering why we are paying $4 for a strawberry milkshake. 

We get lost, lose the keys, and lose the car. On one occasion, we got lost and couldn’t find our suitcase, the keys, or the vehicle. We had been out of state for a few days and landed back at Spokane Airport after midnight.  We landed and knew where we came from but had no idea where we landed and couldn’t find any signs that gave us any information quickly. That started our The Panic Part One.  We begin to feel our head turn into a 50-pound weight, which physically makes our sinuses close, so all those ‘breathe deep through our nose and out through our mouth’ Belly Breathing lessons went right out of the window of being useful. Our ability to think was fading, but still at the point where we didn’t notice our anxiety impaired us.   

We were vaguely familiar with The Spokane airport.  When we walked out of the door, it had snowed while we were gone. It was pretty until the bus dropped us off in the economy lot. Almost every car was covered with snow, and we didn’t make a detailed mental note of where we had seen the vehicle last. Crickets. The economy is vast, and all the cars are covered in snow. Fuckity Fuck Fuck. Part two of the panic problem starts.  It’s harder to breathe and harder to problem-solve.  So we begin randomly walking partially up and down aisles. Our internal fix-it prepper kid figures out to walk around and use the key fob to honk the horn and flash the headlights. Great idea, and it worked.  

We get to the check-out-out gate and need to pay for parking.  We smack around the pockets of our trousers and recall putting our wallet in the front pocket of our suitcase.  We walk to the back of the car to get the keys out.  The suitcase was not there; we didn’t remember to pick up our suitcase because of Panic Part One. The imaginary lights start flicking like fireflies around our heads, and problem-solving is now on autopilot.  We had to sit down and catch our breath.  The only option is to ride all of the way back to the airport.  We returned after two in the morning and parked next to the doors to run in to get the suitcase.  

There is a sign pointing to luggage pick up. We have gotten this far, and things are improving now that we at least have the car. The spinny thing with the suitcases was no longer spinning, and the airport was silent. Panic Part Four sets in. They could not find our suitcase and asked what our flight number was because they had sent some luggage back to Salt Lake for those who had lost it in the other direction.  Part five knocked out any competent adult inside right before they found it. While this shitfest was unfolding, they had been calling on the overhead that they were going tow a car if it was not moved.  With no adults out, no one recognizes that they are describing our vehicle.  We get to the parking garage with our wallet, suitcase, and keys, and the car is being taken; our rig is being pulled and chained onto the back of the tow truck. In the middle of Panic Part Five and Six, someone bigger than me catches our breath and gets the tow man to give us back the car, then drives home in the snow.  The next morning begins with the ‘Where Are We Now” game.

Not to Brags but

People with dissociative identity disorder highly intelligent

“So this is a complicated answer. One aspect that makes it difficult to quantify is the various types of intellect that factor into “highly intelligent.” Many recorded and verified cases of DID are of highly intelligent individuals, yes, but if you think about it deeper than those before have answered--would it not require a brilliant and capable brain to create various constructs and sections of memory, skills, capabilities, identity, etc. Even in the not so exceptionally intelligent ones, you must admit that alone merits more than your average brain capabilities. Also, we must factor in the misdiagnosed (as identity and dissociative disorders are plenty) and those who attempt to fake DID. And finally, I'd like to point out that “a study" means nearly nothing scientifically. If data can be replicated to find the same results in various settings and circumstances, independent of said effects, then it is accepted as a scholarly fact. Anyone can do a study. Anyone can also mess up the data and calculate the sample error. As well as having an unnoticed bias or common uncontrolled factor that influences results, like the perception of intelligence and tests administered.” Davy Coker, University of Southern Mississippi 

     The Struggle: Time

Coping Skill: We keep the television turned on in the background, creating a familiar atmosphere, even though we don't actively watch it for extended periods. We gravitate towards a TV series that has at least three seasons, enjoying the comfort of its repetitive nature. The episodes, typically ranging from thirty minutes to one hour, serve as a time marker for us throughout the day. 

As we go about our activities, we can track the passage of time based on the show's familiar themes and settings. We try to remember the last detail of which episode we saw last, allowing us to piece together how many episodes we have played since we last engaged with them more closely. In this way, the series' background noise becomes a subtle companion, providing a sense of continuity and ease in our environment.  

The comforting hum of the television serves as a lifeline, anchoring us in the ebb and flow of time. Sleep can often leave us disoriented, as if we've drifted into an unfamiliar realm, where nightmares blur the lines between reality and dream. Recognizing the distinction between slumber's horrific embrace and wakefulness is crucial for our daily functioning.  Nightmares give us the switchies, and some mornings can greet us with the unfamiliarity of a new day, shrouded in the uncertainty of how many sunrises have passed since the last one we saw. The one who closes our eyes at night may not always be the same one who opens them again. The television also blankets our environment in a soothing layer of sound, muffling the scattered chatter in our heads that can otherwise overwhelm us. Noise on the outside adds a comforting presence, integrating with the ambient stimulation to create a sense of stability. In times of uncertainty, the flickering images on the screen act as a grounding force in our lives.

This coping method has a downside. We often watch an entire series multiple times, as it can take us several viewings to truly grasp the story's nuances. My wife possesses the patience of Job, effortlessly engaging with the material and explaining those nuances for us. With a playful smirk, she’ll exclaim, “I’ve watched this scene 24 times now.” I quickly remind her that it’s an entirely fresh experience for me. She masterfully transforms the occasional frustrations into light-hearted banter, allowing us to share in a laughter-filled respite rather than dwelling on our challenge. 

The Terror of the 'Where Are Now Game:

  “We accept the love we think we deserve." ,"Perks of a Being a Wallflower." - Stephen Chbosky, 

Somewhere we read that we choose partners who are like an abusive parent. That's messed up. It's a matter of not having anything to contrast it with. It's interesting how much constant suffering we've gotten used to. We behave as if it does not happen after a while. It's like, does a fish know it's swimming in the water? It knows that they are living somewhere that not all animals live. The fish has spent its whole life there; a different existence is unknown. It's easier to chase recurring life experiences, even if they are abusive, instead of facing the fear of the unknown. Even when other alternatives have tons of logical evidence that they are better, there is comfort in the familiar. 'It’s better to dance with the devil you know than the devil you don't.’

We have had to learn about healthy relationships and understand others' feelings. Our hindsight is not 20/20; we don’t have one, so our foresight is a hot mess. The first twenty years of our adult life were a series of bad choices, one right after another. The three kids were the best things that came from that. We can’t demonize any other people we had relationships with. We are hard to live with. 

When we told YJ we loved her, but we had Dissociative Disorder, she understood what we had shared with her and held that space, safe for us from that day forward. She has taken the time to recognize and acknowledge us with dignity and respect. YJ doesn't make us feel like we are hard to live with; she genuinely loves us. She has developed a relationship with each of us and manages to meet us where we are.  

Cary- Yj and I will be watching something, and a little decides he needs to be in front and he’ll giggle at something PG. She’ll pause it and ask which of them is out by saying, “Are you old enough to be watching this?”  Usually he is just checking in and wanting to tell her something or ask a question.  Sometimes they get to watch and sometimes she changes the show. but always with kindness and playfulness.  She is more patient with the littles than I will ever be.  I get reminded frequently that the goal of our family therapy requires that I play nice as well.  I have never liked to face hard truths. 

Josh- We can follow a scene but miss the movieline altogether, which as we write that sentence see the irony. This is also how we experience life.  It's a long series of scenes but the acts get fuzzy and the plot of the play was lost right after the curtains parted. We were talking to her the other day about some movie.  We started waving and swinging our arms about describing some horse riding scene.  Then we spoke out in blurts,

Us: “You know the one. The one with the horses and the zombies, not the walkie kind of zombie but the mushroom kind of zombie,”

Her:  “Pedro Pascal?”

Us: “YES! That’s it. Is he the actor in this movie?”

Her: “No Sweetheart.”

Where Do I Go

’ve been asked where I go when not in the front. And I see my library. There is a long path made of stones that have been walked on so many times and have worn down.  There is a large wood door at the end of the path. It has a heavy metal lock, the ones that slide up. Inside are two levels of books with a fire in front of two chairs.  There is a table between two chairs with a lamp sitting on it. Next to the lamp's base is a key to unlocking wooden file cabinets. Sometimes there is somebody with me.  If a guy asks for my help, they put away the leftovers from our sessions.  I hold out an envelope and let them put whatever they need away until he is ready to look at it again and when he’s prepared to share it with the rest of us. I have them walk with me, sit down, or wait for me to return.

Sometimes, I ask Jenny to accompany me when the envelope is too heavy.   It's hard for me, too. I don’t want to look at some of it. It feels like vicarious trauma when I still have to figure out what to do with mine as well. I think I’ve always known my way back here.  I file it, and then I lock it. Leaving the keys on the table, I shut the heavy door, slid the lockdown, and let the guy feel his feet on the ground again.  I leave him where he can find his way home. Some have extraordinary treehouses and parks; I am jealous.  Then, I find my way back to the door and wait for the sun to come up.  That’s where I go. 

In “Severance,” one of the I characters accidentally meets his Outside son and immediately becomes invested. Two characters fall in love. Burt and Irving are two older gentlemen who develop intimate feelings for each other. Irving walks to Beau's office, and he sees his co-workers celebrating. Burt’s O left his I and his co-workers a video message saying he was retiring that evening and would not be taking their body back to work again. Burt loses his shit and asks everyone if they are going just to let him die? In these two instances, one guy finds love on the outside, and one with a guy on the inside is conflicted. They find love and meaning in the place where they exist. It opens the idea of where you go when you become unaware and what that means.

n the show, O Mark has chosen to be separated from himself to avoid the pain of the loss of his wife. O Mark finds out his wife is still alive. Finally, both I and O Mark find a way to talk between themselves; each is in love. They are arguing, and Mark asks O why he should care about his wife when he locked him in a box for two years. He tells him that he is not just a part of it; his life is just as valuable. He says they may not have much life, but they have created one and made the best of it. 

n Moon Knight, there is a scene where Steven falls overboard into the Sands of Time forever, and Marc goes to the Elysian Fields. When he realizes Steven will be there forever, he makes them take him back to find him. He finds him frozen in the sand and holds his hand. Marc tells Steven that he is the only superpower he ever had. 

Until we can communicate with each other, there can be no cooperation. It’s like the tin can and string telephones we made before the clouds were the string. The closer the cans are, the more the string vibrates, and the sound is more precise. The vibrating string has always been a constant chatter that fades further down the line into a quiet hum.   We all have someone that we are closer to than others because we went through it together with them. Josh has always been with me. He is my best friend and worst enemy, lovingly loyal, the person I confide in, and, more importantly, he always shows up for me when I need help. 

Our Happy PlaceThere are good parts to being dissociative, or it wouldn't work. The whole coping mechanism is quite literally to  “Find Your Happy Place,” and go back as needed. 

Happy Place

There are good parts to being dissociative, or it wouldn't work. The whole coping mechanism is quite literally to  “Find Your Happy Place,” and go back as needed.

Magical Crayons

Where Do the Littles go?

When we asked the littles about their experience on the inside compared to the front, Toddy said it was like “Harold and the Purple Crayon.” I think he is brilliant. Harold is a four-year-old boy with a magical purple crayon that brings his dreams to life. One starry evening, yearning to stroll under the soft glow of moonlight, he discovers the night sky is devoid of the moon’s luminous presence. Undeterred, he draws a radiant moon, its silvery light casting a gentle shimmer across the landscape. 

He sketches a winding path, and he explores the wonders ahead. Harold embarks on enchanting adventures, each more fantastical than the last. He encounters a fearsome dragon, its scales glinting in brilliant shades of emerald and gold, as it guards a magnificent apple tree laden with glistening red fruit. He sets sail on his boat, Harold navigating through deep, azure waters where the waves dance playfully beneath him. He soon hosts a delightful picnic, a feast filled with nine tantalizing flavors of pie, each slice bursting with sweetness and vibrant colors. Finally, he takes to the skies in a colorful hot-air balloon, its bright fabric soaring high, whisking him away to safety as he begins to tumble from his dreams. Each moment crafted with his crayon unveils a world of wonder and imagination where anything is possible. 

Eventually, Harold grows tired and searches for his bedroom window to go to bed. He draws many windows, drawing an entire city, yet none are his. Finally, Harold remembers where his window is situated, constructs his room and bed, and nods to sleep. Jenny tells us that the triggers that hurt also give us superpowers. She wants us to work together to not only make the pain disappear but also to have adventures, fun, and laugh

Dreaming of the Littles

We saw a video from someone who looks pretty genuine, and she pointed out that questioning whether you're a system or not is a very system thing to do. She takes a camera around and asks people if they had a typical childhood, and when they say yes, she asks them if they ever worry that they are a system. Not a single yes. Somehow, it’s validating that no one knows what the fuck we're talking about.

 considered starting this with a pithy quote about nightmares, but I want to share something more personal. The truth is, I have a deep affection for my nighttime dreams. While I do experience recurring nightmares that can feel unsettling, there are also wonderful dreams that fill me with joy. These are the dreams I find myself reluctant to leave behind when morning arrives—those moments that feel like having to close a captivating book just as the plot thickens. It’s a bittersweet feeling, waking up just as the adventure peaks. I want to stay asleep and stay there, but I wake up to the returning weight in my stomach as our anguish returns in a moment. 

I had a dream about being multiple one night. It was one of those dreams that feels so real that you can't tell you're asleep. I was sitting in our recliner and watching my two outside sons and three of my inside younglings playing together. I even saw a kid's video playing in the background.  My son took away a toy from one of our boys inside, and he started crying. Usually, I would have brushed this off as a child's overreaction; they would have to find a way to share. I felt so bereft when my boy took a toy from my inside kiddo.  When I woke up right after that, I woke up still feeling this profound and unfair loss. I felt what they felt and could no longer deny they were here.

The littles get pissy that our hands are big now. They have a hard time playing video games that require dexterity.  It is very frustrating for them when they know the answer to the puzzle but can not react quickly enough to beat the bosses. They blame us for their case of “Nintendo Thumb.” They are not wrong.  Not being able to accommodate the littles only works for so long, but this is a complex request.

Little Troubles at Work

Director of Nursing: Ring Ring

Us: Hello

DON: Where were you last night?

Us: Sleeping

DON: You were on the schedule last night; it's a no-call no-show. 

Us: Nope, it’s our three-day weekend, and don't have don't have to be back until Monday night

DON: It’s Tuesday morning 

Us:……..

Working presents its own set of arduous trials. Over the past three years, we’ve faced the unsettling reality of intermittent unemployment. The pressure of not securing a steady income weighs heavily on our minds; 

a couple of us are nurses, and they make all of the money. Our handwriting became a concern when one of the boys needed to help chart what he thought was important.  This often leads to misunderstandings—an employer has even accused us of coming to work impaired. Looking at it, we can see that it's a commentary between paragraphs of our notes that might as well have been written with a crayon.

Lost

Zoom has truly transformed our therapeutic journey, making it easier to navigate our emotional landscapes and express ourselves without the distractions of the outside world. The fear of being unable to find our way home—a very real concern—was something we had to face before you virtual therapy became available. In the early days with Jenny, we often found ourselves parked in the Chuck E. Cheese lot outside her office, lingering after our sessions. It wasn't merely a feeling of being lost in thought; it was the profound disorientation of feeling truly lost—overwhelmed by the experience.

This issue was even more pronounced in an era before GPS and cell phones, when we felt utterly stranded. We often lost track of where we parked our car, which added to our vulnerability. Back then, borrowing a phone from a random business to report a missing car was mortifying. Even if we wished to remain incognito, the old landlines offered no privacy, ensuring our predicament wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Our coping mechanism for this chaos has been to use GPS on our phones. This tool helps our family track our locations, which, while unfortunate, is a necessary measure. The anxiety is only heightened by the fear of misplacing the entire vehicle instead of just the keys.

We have a little one who can pull the car over if we get sick. He’ll take a picture of where we are and send it to our family, so they can find us. It’s like geocaching for Toddy!

Lost Things

Problem: Getting Lost:

Officer: So you're reporting that your 

The truck was stolen

Us: possibly 

Officer: Possibly what

Us: stolen

Officer: Stolen or what?

Us: I may have lost it. 

Officer: Have you looked for it? 

Us:…………

Zoom has revolutionized our therapeutic journey. It simplifies the navigation of our emotional landscapes, allowing us to express ourselves without the burdens of the outside world. The anxiety of not being able to find our way home—a very real fear—was something we had to contend with before the advent of virtual therapy. In the initial days with Jenny, we often found ourselves parked in the Chuck E. Cheese lot outside her office, lingering after our sessions. It’s not a sense of being lost in one’s thoughts—the profound disorientation of being truly lost, the overwhelming lost. 

This dilemma was even more pronounced in an era before GPS and cell phones. It left us feeling utterly stranded, losing track of where we put our vehicle, which also happened, which meant we were left vulnerable. Back then, asking to borrow a phone in a random business to report the missing car was an absolute embarrassment. Even if we wished to remain incognito, the old landlines offered no camouflage, ensuring our plight would not go unheard

Our coping mechanism for this disarray has become utilizing GPS on our phones. This tool aids our family in tracking our whereabouts so they can find us, which is an unfortunate necessity.  The experience is only exacerbated by the fear of misplacing the entire vehicle rather than just the keys. The thought of needing to call the police to report my truck missing was mortifying.

Then there are the sabotage losts.  Especially young Todd, ignoring him is not in our best interest.   He has hidden our keys, work backpack, glasses, and underpants, and this is not an exhaustive list. He jammed a quarter in our car's shift so we couldn't put it in the park. He can front anytime he wants. He barges and blurts. I frown; he says I'm a cranky old man.  Insert eye roll; technically, he is Josh’s, but he lets him do anything he wants.  It's like internal parent splitting.

Upside: We can hide our own Easter eggs. 

The Small losts:

There are the endless small losts. We can't expect to be the same person who sets something important down.  It goes into the same abyss that sucks in just one sock every time.

When we begin to explain what dissociation feels like for us, we use a familiar analogy. Dissociating is like daydreaming and passing your exit on the highway. We can work with that because it does help a singleton internalize the experience, and it's not wrong. Highway hypnosis, also known as "white line fever,” is a trance-like state that can occur when driving long distances on a highway, especially on a familiar route. A partial or complete loss of awareness, reduced brain activity, and a lack of focus on surroundings characterize it. Drivers may experience a distorted sense of time and have difficulty recalling the details of the drive—highway hypnosis. 

We drove from Utah to Washington and back a few times a year. When we listen to an audiobook, we have to be careful. We would pass our exits, and once we missed an exit and ended up in Pocatello, Idaho, before we noticed. There is only one in and one way out of Pocatello, so it was a long drive back. Another time, we drove past Snowville and headed through NoWhere, Utah. We didn't notice how much gas was in the tank until we hit the point of no return. We drive by muscle memory and not our brain sparking. We think that this is what makes dissociating individuals highly suggestible. We have a nasty case of “White Line Fever.”

Coming to the front feels like that optical illusion you see when your car isn’t moving, and the car next to you gets a green light.  You catch the moving vehicle out of the corner of your eye, and it feels like your car is moving backward. We even hit the brakes of the turned-off vehicle.  Fronting feels like slamming on the brakes during an optical illusion.  It can feel bright outside; our eyes pour water, and we get used to the light. It can be disconcerting at best, and It takes a minute to respond to questions if we are switchy. The fuzzy in-between place of switching is when the parked car starts rolling backward, and we don’t know that we are in a car.

This also leads to very real everyday problems. We lose our keys before they get hung up on the hook. We can’t remember why we are somewhere; it’s not like going into a different room and having it slip your mind about what you went there for. We are in some McDonald’s drive-thru somewhere in the world, wondering why we are paying $4 for a strawberry milkshake.

Change is Hard

 It takes a minute to be able to respond if we are switchie.  Another act of patience, she has to tell us over and over if the routine will change.  That fuzzy in between can be a problem, as well as depending on someone passing on the memo to all of us. She holds our head daily, asks them to look her in the eye, and listen.

Yj: “I’m going to go to Portland in 10 days.  Long pause: What did I say?”

Little 1: “You're going to Portland.”

Her:” For how long?”

Little 1: ……….

Her:  10 days.

Yj: “Look at me, I will go to Portland in 9 days. What did I say?

Little 2: “ You’ll be gone for ten days.”

Yj: “Where am I going?

Little 2: ………

Yj: “Look at me, I will go to Portland in 8 days. What did I say?”

Big 1: 

Rinse and repeat 10 times.

Little 4: Frantic text 3 hours after she leaves,

“Where are you!”

Tending to the Outside Kids

Middle School Director: Are you coming to pick up your children today?

Us: Yes. It's my week to drive a carpool

Sharon: I know; they are all still here.

Us: Shit! Is it an early out day?

Sharon: it's 4:00

Us……..

Our family is a quilt made from all thesft over svaps of fabrics and our kids have three fathers. Cary is good with the Tiny Littles, effortlessly engaging them in playful antics, while Josh possesses a remarkable knack for connecting with the middle tweens. Then there's Anthony, who guided them through the tumultuous teenage years. Navigating this dynamic, there comes a crucial time when our children need clarity; Toddy took charge of the day, his personality shining as he has a carefree spirit, often wanting to hang out with the outside kids. As the day unfolded, our daughter turned to my wife with a curious look and asked why her father sometimes seemed like a 6-year-old boy. This question was a perfect opportunity for an essential conversation with all the kids, who, on some level, already sensed the complexities.  

We decided to share more with our external children, offering them information about our unique circumstances. We kept some details private, recognizing that certain things may not serve anyone’s best interests.

Once we broached the topic, they took only three seconds to process the information. They had a few questions, and surprisingly, it was much easier than we anticipated. We explained the basics of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), though they remain blissfully unaware of the more intricate details of our past. In their eyes, it was akin to mentioning I have green eyes—just another fact about their dad that didn't require further contemplation.

“Good for you, Father,” our sons said with a bit of sarcasm.

“The microwave broke, and my friends will arrive in half an hour. I told them you’d get pizza, so if you could set aside your feelings for the moment, that would be great.” 

Teenagers, in their self-absorbed phase, often make conversations feel straightforward. And we just bought that microwave.

A little Sabotage

Then there are the sabotage losts.  Especially young Todd, ignoring him is not in our best interest.   He has hidden our keys, work backpack, glasses, and underpants, and this is not an exhaustive list. He jammed a quarter in our car shift so that we couldn't put it in the park. He can front anytime he wants. He barges and blurts. I frown; he says I'm a cranky old man.  Insert eye roll; technically, he is Josh’s, but he lets him do anything he wants.  It's like internal parent splitting.

Assault and Battery of the Body

We were caught off guard the night before last. In the evenings, when YJ gets home from work, she follows her usual routine, and we've been watching a show called “Severance.” It's a science fiction psychological thriller series that follows employees at the biotechnology corporation called Lumon Industries. These employees have undergone a surgical procedure called "severance," which ensures they retain no memories of the outside world while at work and have no recollection of their jobs once they leave. This leads to two distinct personalities for each employee: the "innie," who exists solely within Lumon, and the "outie," who lives their personal life outside of work. The only contact that can be made between their two parts is through video recordings, and the communication can only go in one direction.  The outside is allowed to talk to their inside person, but the inside person is forbidden to share any information with the outside.  The outside chooses both because he controls the body and has all the information. The company tortures the inside person if he doesn’t comply, and by being severed, he can’t tell anyone who could help. Their inside person is miserable, and they become desperate to get out; they are stuck there if their outside person keeps going to work, and they torture the inside people if they step out of line. 

One character is new to the group and becomes miserable quickly. She tries to turn in her resignation, but her outside person denies her request and keeps returning her to work daily.  When she threatens to cut off both of their hand, her O sends a video telling her she is not real, she is just a part, then threatens to harm her back.  I  unsuccessfully attempted suicide, and still, she came back because of how they rewired the brain to make them wake up immediately, coming up and down the elevator.  The inside guys never perceive time as passing when they are not at work.  Even after hanging herself, she wakes up at work again. This is a System's real life. The elevator never quite makes it to the top.   

Self-harm is more of an assault and battery situation; the guy harming the body is usually not harming themselves; they are harming another one of us. We see, hear, and feel ourselves as separate within but affected by the choices of our teammates. This did get worse at the beginning of therapy when we started being able to make much contact with each other.  Instead of time jumps, we began to notice what was happening on the outside more often.  The walls start to get thinner, and the windows clear up, like wiping the fog off the mirror after you shower.

What is your job?

To Not Make Matters Worse

Yj: Look at me, what is your job today?

Us: it's our job to do nothing

Her: You all will not reply to the landlords text messages.. What is your job today?

Us: It's our job to do nothing

Her: Make sure everybody inside knows what your job is, Toddy?

Toddy: My job is to not make things worse

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