Yesterday we were sorting through boxes in the basement to decide what will be shipped down to the new house (not moving there permanently for 4 years yet, but settle on the house next month).
My mother warned, “Sometimes, remember, you give the okay to get rid of things and then…later you….decide not to. So I’ll let you look once more through the piles of stuff closer to when it’s time to pack.”
What she meant but wouldn’t say was, “Sometimes you or an alter say one thing and make a choice, but then you don’t remember and want the thing back.”
See, we don’t even discuss it even though we all know I have DID and they’ve even come to family sessions, etc. where we discussed the DID…whatever. She uses generic terms that make it sound like I’m just indecisive.
And then she seemed annoyed at the fact that I wasn’t exactly giddy with joy while going through the box of my high school things. She said we were keeping all of it anyway, so in that case, I wonder why even bother making me sort through the box?
Do you know why I was agitated while going through that box? Because I barely remember high school, and what I do remember was not pleasant. I don’t remember graduation! She insists I’ll care about the contents of the box “some day”, but how can I care about when I don’t remember? High school was when I really started to get obviously mentally ill and DID symptoms kicked into high gear close to the beginning of my senior year.