Psychology 2018: It’s dissociation not psychosis. Oh crap!

Psychology 2018. Winter solstice.

This was the year:

I received the command from the psychologist not to relax or engage in any kind of therapy or therapeutic practice promoting relaxation.

Basically he said I’m too messed up to cope with that. Relaxation risks mucking us up even more.

We’re hoping the therapy next year gets us to the point where attempting relaxation is a viable option.

Comes to something when you’re medically banned from relaxing.

This was the year:

We learned I am even more fucked up than I thought and that while psychosis would be a simpler diagnosis for what goes on in my head it’s not true.

This was the year:

We reconsidered our memory gaps. We had many. Childhood was largely photo albums not real memory. Various parts panicked even more, putting a tighter grip on childhood. Now there are even larger memory gaps. And a firm conviction they hide things that justify that panic even though I don’t understand it in the slightest. What arises within when I think of the place I grew up or intentionally look toward the gaps is a panic and inner voice screaming shouting arguing that’s pretty much insurmountable and basically unbearable. Do I want to know what’s there? That’s another argument.

This was the year:

We got off psychiatric medication while building the start of a life we couldn’t ever build before. There is a long way to go. But I have made a lot of progress. Met great people along the way. And lived enough to post very varied things on instagram, 500 posts in six months with many excellent photos and words and even that misses out some big things that happened.

This was the year:

We were diagnosed with a complex dissociative disorder. Unfortunately it appears the diagnosis – of DID or DDNOS or somewhere between the two – is correct. Fortunately there’s hope and a correct diagnosis is a good thing.

This was the year:

After years of fighting for help someone got us in to see a psychologist for a series of one to one sessions. First time I’ve ever seen a psychologist more than 3 times. We worked together. Uncovered things he couldn’t help with. Referred me to a specialist centre. I am fortunate there is such a place here. Not every city has people trained in helping with these disorders.

This was the year:

I had suicidal thoughts every single day and nearly lost the war sometimes but still did a whole batch of so called impossible things that form a foundation for next year and eventually will be steps towards supporting myself financially. Which is completely impossible. Nevertheless.

This was the year:

Of so much more. Too much to say. Despair. Joy. Surprise. Fear. Difficulty. Pain. Resurrection. Hope. Confusion. Being ripped apart.

If not for Beth, Kit, and the wonderful people around me at different times I probably wouldn’t have made it to the winter solstice. Newcastle has so many brilliant people.

The solstice looks to new beginnings. New life. The letting go of the old. The solstice looks forward not back.

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