Thursday, April 7, 2011

February 1999, pt 3


This can't be real.
I've looked it up online. It's called D.I.D. now. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Why change it? Multiple Personalities at least tells you what it is without a medical dictionary.
But I don't think I fit all the criteria... and there are so many websites about it.
And then there are the False Memory Syndrome people. They say it's all a lie.
This can't be happening.
It can't be real.

But what about the Mirror Girl? I remember talking to her. I know I couldn't have been much more than 2... I was still in diapers. I remember walking back and forth in the upstairs hallway, holding the round crib mirror and talking to my reflection. I knew it was reflection because my game was watching the ceiling while walking back and forth. Not being able to see where I put my feet made my stomach do flips. I was being Brave and Adventurous. Especially when I passed the stairway.

But the Girl. I talked to her and she talked back. When Mom made me cry, I'd talk to her.

I remember other things around then but... I don't think about those.

What about the dots? I felt stupid telling Pastor R and Pat and now Dr. P about the dots.

It was a dream. A bunch of black dots that talked to me. I'm sure it came from some Sesame Street sketch but I had the dream for years, even after I started school. They would talk to me in my sleep.

And then later... after Tommy started taking me into the woods... they talked to me outside my dreams. Playing in my room, I'd hear them. First a babble and then I could hear them like a crowd all saying different things. "No." "Stop that." "Stop it." "Bad girl." Over and over and over. They spoke in a harmonic cadence and I would play or walk and sometimes rock to the rhythm of the voices. Somehow I knew, even then, not to tell.

But then I'd already learned about not telling.
And I kept learning.

I remember running away and telling people my name was Stephanie... and when I was Stephanie I wasn't afraid... and I was always afraid.

Waking up and not remembering the day before. But I never told anyone. Stein made sure no one would believe me.

When Charlie and I had our first real fight and I pushed him enough to make him yell... he found me in the spare room curled up in the pile of teddy bears and said I couldn't talk.


Please God. Don't let this be real.