I have been avoiding my DID again. Sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously. In therapy, the topic has barely been brought up because I always have so many issues going on, that managing my DID drops down on the priority list.

I think that it is clear, given the events of the last few weeks, that DID is a problem, and a problem that isn’t going away.

My therapist used a metaphor of a daycare to explain what was going on inside. There are some daycare centers that are clean, organized, running on a schedule, and everyone knows what to do. Then there are daycare centers that are a mess, with no planning in place, children running around screaming, and poop on the walls (I contributed to that part).

My system is like that second daycare. There’s no order, just chaos. My parts are running around, confused and out of control. The caretakers have left the building. It’s a mess. My system is a mess. But it doesn’t have to be, and I know that. I am just so incredibly exhausted from life that I don’t have any energy left to work on myself.

My therapist asked about my long-term goals, if I wanted integration or to live as a multiple. The choice was completely up to me, and my therapist has worked with people successfully on both sides. I hadn’t really thought about it enough, because I still like to wake up and tell myself I don’t have DID, so then I won’t have to think about these things.

I just want to be normal, but I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed at this point.

At one point, my therapist asked me how many parts I thought I had. “Dozens, hundreds, thousands?”

My immediate (denial) reaction in my head was well, I don’t have any parts.

I found myself say out loud, “hundreds…”, but not as an answer. I was surprised that hundreds was even an option. Why does this woman think I have parts at all?

Before I could finish my thought statement, my therapist confirmed, “Hundreds? Okay.”

She said it like she wasn’t surprised at all that I would have hundreds of parts. She confirmed it like it was a normal, expected answer.

I quickly jumped on the defensive. “No, no, I don’t have hundreds of parts. I’m not polyfragmented. I’m not that bad.” Polyfragmented DID results from prolonged, systematic, severe trauma. I didn’t go through that. My life wasn’t that bad. I don’t have any parts. I am not broken. Having that many parts means you are just that much more broken. I’m okay.

I can’t help but wonder why my therapist was so quick to accept my statement as reality. Does she think I am so broken? Does she know more than I do?

I don’t want to be fragmented. I want to be whole.

13 thoughts on “Polyfragmented

  1. Hello KJ,

    Even if the T does know more than you do, it doesn’t mean you won’t learn the answers later. There could be systematic trauma with or without polyfragmentation. You are right and it’ horrible to realize this. How do you define “whole?” These things are scary.




    1. It’s just scary to think about, I don’t want to acknowledge any trauma sometimes. It’s easier not to.

      I don’t know what whole is. I’ve never felt it.


  2. I’ve been struggling with denial of my DID too. Evidently I cycle through this denial every so often. I can’t speak for the other times (because I honestly don’t remember them) but this time it was just wanting to be a “normal” one person kind of person for a few days. Then DID had a way of sneaking up on me and smacking me across the face. Unfortunately there’s no getting away from it.


    1. Yes…wanting to be ‘Normal’ even though I’m not sure what normal really is. You would think as much as we know that we have it, that denial wouldn’t be an issue so much, but it is.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I’ve been diagnosed since 1992, way back when they called it Multiple Personality Disorder. My response was both that I knew I wasn’t by myself and one of fear. To say I have MPD/DID meant I had to recognize and accept * why * I developed it. That’s a hard one. That’s really hard. It took many, many years before I stopped questioning myself.

    This type of healing you’re doing is as painful as having open heart surgery while wide awake, with no anesthesia. Denial will pop in as your anesthesia. Let it work when it needs to but also let yourself come out of it in order to get better. You will go back and forth between denial and recognizing it, the way many of us have.

    When I read entries 1-3 and this one this morning, my heart went out to you. I understood the chaos. My heart went out to you. There is a journal entry on my blog called ” To the Younger Me” where I discussed the emotional connection I had to these last few entries.

    I hope you have some kind of relief soon. You need it.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I just went and read your post, and it helped so much. Thank you. I hope I will get to a point where I won’t need the denial so much anymore.


  4. I’m curious if you’ve read the book “Sybil”? It’s a (great) true story about a woman with DID in the 70’s, and it recounts her experience with a lot of the things you’ve written about in your blog, including (if I’m not mistaken), her struggle with denial throughout treatment. It was really fascinating and had a very touching ending. I would seriously recommend it to anybody, but I get the feeling you might really like it 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I actually have the book in my collection, but haven’t gotten around to reading it yet. My reading desire tends to come and go, and lately it’s been gone. I hope to get to it soon enough.


  5. Denial is needed at times. But then I came to see my DID as a gift — the reason that I didn’t go entirely bonkers from the abuse. I’ve also come to the point where I communicate with my alters and appreciate them. Hope this finds you having a decent day.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you.

      I do try to focus on acknowledging that the DID really saved my life in childhood. There’s no way I would have survived without it. I forget that sometimes when I am frustrated.

      Liked by 1 person

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