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A few days following the death of Amy Winehouse, I am still at a loss for words. When I read comments like “Well she had so many opportunities to recover,” it makes it even harder to explain why that bothers me. I feel a huge loss, for her family, friends, and this is a tragedy, just as it is a tragedy when this happens to anyone, from any background.
The two dissociative symptoms that, once described clearly, are the easiest for people to relate to and understand are also the ones that have earned Dissociative Identity Disorder its undeserved reputation as a bizarre aberration. Identity alteration (experiencing the self as multiple) and dissociative amnesia (gaps in memory) are the two manifestations of dissociation that are mythologized the most. But it’s not because they’re too foreign for most people to grasp. On the contrary, in their mildest forms they’re downright normal.
Although unseen in the tumultuous immediate aftermath of The Day I Left Him, justice was served. Nevertheless, in my pain, I felt
slighted by my son who ran from me
betrayed by my husband who wouldn't admit the truth
punished by the judge who gave custody to my abuser
unable to see where my actions caused him any tragic feelings remotely similar to my own (I wanted him to hurt, and he didn't)
It seemed he'd won. I felt justice wasn't only blind, but also the stupidest philosophical idea ever imagined by mankind.
In part one of this series, I talked about the lure of anorexia and how, at first, I didn't think of anorexia as an addiction. But it is and, of course, the first step to breaking the chains of addiction to starving is both very simple and complex at the same time.
I needed to eat and reach a healthy weight. That required me to eat three meals and drink three Ensure Plus daily, and watch as the scale slowly climbed upward. This is very frightening for those of us struggling with anorexia nervosa.
But there is no other way. Until I achieved full and consistent nutrition, the eating disorder part of my brain was going to keep telling me to starve myself. I would be forever chained to anorexia.
Fear denied, repressed, suppressed, or put out of mind is not fear extinguished.
Treating anxiety: 'as if'
I've been told that acting 'as if' I'm not nearly as anxious as I am is a helpful thing. It's also dangerous. As with almost any technique sometimes is fine but if you're anything like me and you'll do whatever you have to do to be able to put your anxiety aside and function, and if what you want is to go on with as much of life as you can, uninterrupted by fear, then it can become destabilizing.
Resilience is a gradual learning process. It can be useful in both personal and work situations. These are only recommendations on building resilience, there are many more. Test a few out and try the ones that work for you.
I've receive innumerable comments from readers about how their child's psychiatric illness has taken a toll on their marriages. I'd be lying if I said my husband and I are the exception. The tension in our house has been thick enough to spread on a bagel, and over the course of this year, it's gotten progressively worse.
I remember crawling into my soft bed, fan blowing softly but enough that I tucked my hair behind my ear to keep it from tickling my nose. The covers were heavy, cool with a hint of Downy April Fresh; my pillow cradled my head in a mother's embrace. I fell asleep happy with the day, quietly looking forward to his return late in the night.
The house was spotless and smelled fresh. The children were quiet in their own beds for a change. Not one sound in the whole house that shouldn't be there. I drifted to sleep so slowly I consciously noticed the change in my breath as I fell deeper and deeper into dreams. I let myself go.
BANG! I moved so fast my brain didn't know I was sitting.
BANG! "What?! What is it?" I said, my heart pounding in the darkness.
A shadow crossed in front of the window headed toward the other dresser. It was him. I read his body language in the split second it took for him to pass through the moonlight. He was pissed.
BANG! BANG! BANG! Three more drawers opened and slammed. "Where are my f@c&i*g socks, KELLIE?" he yelled.
"Ben is so lucky to have you."
That's what I've been hearing a lot lately - well, from those whom I am not criticizing for shoddy case management.
And, that's a nice compliment for sure - but, in the immortal words of Carrie Bradshaw (Sex in the City): "I couldn't help but wonder...": What about all the people with mental illnesses whose families have given up on them?
We all have gut reactions to information. It's the reaction when our stomach knots or tumbles, our breathing quickens or stops, our eyes light up or look down. It's the reaction we have before realizing we're having a reaction.
And gut reactions around mental illness can be powerful. The problem is, our gut reactions are so often wrong about mental illness and mental illness treatment.
Where do we go from here? Most of the family thinks just to let her hit bottom and then if she reaches out to help any we can. Some want to just keep paying her bills and just let her sit in the house with no responsibilities. Never been on medication and impossible to get to her when she refuses to talk to ANYONE.
Help.
On the day we agreed to videochat to make things less awkward IRL she woke up with a migraine so we rescheduled to the day after, I made sure to assure her that it was okay and to take her time. Later that day, in the late evening we had a nice chat but suddenly she stopped replying, even though nothing had happened. The day after I texted her good morning and said I hope she was feeling a little better. she wouldn't open my texts.
A couple days after I sent her a longer text saying that even though I had only known her for a short time I care a lot for her and would like to know how she are doing, telling her I'm there for her, assuring her I'm not going anywhere even though things might not be very easy. She wouldn't open it.
A week later I sent a text saying not to feel bad about not answering and that I will be there when she is able to answer again. It's been two weeks since this and she still hasn't opened my texts. She hasn't been active at all.
I don't know what else I can do. I assumed she might have fallen into a depression. I have tried to just not think about it anymore, and I haven't that much but when I do it sort of kills me inside...