“I have. You’re in good hands,” she reassures me.
“In your questionnaire, you indicated that you had been seeing Dr. Lyce. She’s quite well-known. Is there a reason that you’ve decided to end your relationship with her?”
“Conflict of interest.” I shrug. “I’d like to start with a clean slate. I didn’t see her for DID so I’d like to start the same way you would with any new patient.” My nerves are starting to get the better of me.
“I understand. Well, there are a few different tests that I’d like for us to complete,” she starts.
“What kind of tests?”
“Well the first is called Dissociative Disorders Interview Schedule. DDIS for short. They are tests where I ask you a series of questions, some of which you’ve answered in the health assessment you took today. Then the Dissociative Experiences Scale, or DES, helps me screen for the possibility that you may have another disorder that could possibly have been misdiagnosed. It also gives me an idea of the level of dissociation that you are having.”
“Are we going to do all of those today?” I ask, feeling a little overwhelmed.
“We can. However, based on the questionnaire, it seems our time today may be better spent discussing some of the overall concerns that you have. I could get you scheduled for these tests next week.”
“Yeah, I don’t really think there is any possibility I’m misdiagnosed.” I say honestly “My main reason for being here is…” I trail off, trying to choose my words carefully.
“Remember Christopher, I am here to be your sounding board. I don’t have an agenda or any preconceived notions. I am here to help you sort things out objectively. I would like you to be able to speak freely and truthfully.” She leans forward on her desk, giving me all her attention and a warm smile.
I nod.
“How did you find out about your condition?” she asks, pulling out a leather notepad. This is going to be fun. I take a deep breath and tell her how Lauren showed up at my door and how all hell broke loose. I’m a little hesitant at first, but as I continue, I’m able to speak more freely and it feels better to get everything off my chest. I tell her about the memories I’ve had, how sometimes I have thoughts that don’t really seem like mine, and my panic attack. She listens intently making frequent eye contact as she scribbles away in her notepad.
“…I feel lost and confused. Before all this happened I thought I knew what I wanted in life. I knew what I wanted to do and who I wanted to marry. Now I don’t know anything,” I mumble.
“Your feelings are completely normal. Your life has changed significantly in a very short period of time. These changes would be stressful for anyone. You’ve become aware that you are a parent, you’ve become engaged, the knowledge of your disorder—I’m surprised that the pressure you’ve endured hasn’t caused your alter to surface.” She says the last part impressed. “Also the fact that Cal reached out to you, alters usually prefer to stay hidden,” she says, still scribbling away in her notebook.
“You said that you had headaches when you believed your switches were blackouts. You mentioned when you discovered your parents were hiding your condition from you that you felt one coming on?” she asks, but it seems more like a statement.
“Yeah,” I confirm.
“However there was no time loss or blackout at that time?”
“No.”
“The last time you had a switch, at least one that you remember, was the day before Lauren arrived?” she asks, and I nod.
“And the memories began once she arrived. Lauren, I mean?” she asks, and I nod again.
“Does that mean something?” I ask her, feeling a little anxious.
“Possibly? How do you feel about Lauren?” That was a little blunt. I wasn’t really ready for that question.
“Uhm.” I feel myself starting to fidget in my chair.
“Remember Chris, you can speak freely here. There is no need to feel nervous. Our session will only be beneficial if you’re completely honest,” she says, folding her hands.
“I’ve never felt the way I feel about her. It’s like we have a connection, but that would be crazy because I haven’t known her long. I don’t know her like I do Jenna. I feel like I shouldn’t feel this way and I’m afraid that the feelings aren’t mine.” It feels good to say it out loud.
“I think one of the hardest things for patients who dissociate is to realize that your alters…”
“Alter,” I interject. God, let there just be one.
“Alter, is a part of you. You share the same feelings that he does. Cal was created for a reason. What my job will be is to help you to find out what that reason is. Our goal is to integrate that portion of your personality—the portion created to help you cope—back into the fold, so to speak, making you whole once again.” Her voice is smooth and calming but the word “integrate” makes my skin crawl.
“I don’t want to integrate with him. I want him gone,” I say quietly as if Lauren can hear me. I feel a rush of relief when the words leave my mouth. Then I see Lauren’s face in my mind, and I feel a huge amount of guilt.
“It’s normal for you to feel at odds with your alter. However, he is a part of you. I can only liken it to cutting off your own foot.”
“I’d get a prosthetic.”
She smiles. “Well, you state that you seem to get along well with Lauren and you have a little girl that you’ve really taken to. He can’t be all bad,” she says, and I roll my eyes. It was sheer luck that he didn’t impregnate some STD-ridden psycho.
“One of my acquaintances who knew me as Cal says that he wouldn’t like my fiancée. If we’re one, how could he hate someone that I love,” I counter.
“From what you say, it sounds like Cal may be the part of your personality that is uninhibited, that does and says the things that you may not. He is the personification of the emotions that you sequester. If there is a part of you that dislikes things about her, it isn’t unusual that his feelings would be magnified,” she says, closing her leather notebook and pulling out another pad. I look at the clock in the office and see that our session is over.
She writes on the paper, tears it off and hands it to me.
“Medication?” I ask.
“No. There isn’t any medication specifically for DID but some treat the symptoms that it could cause like depression, insomnia, sometimes physical ailments, but other than your panic attack, it seems that you’re not suffering from anything that concerns me. This is just a bit of homework.”
I take the piece of paper and read
Find three things that you like about Cal.
Is she serious?
“It’s so important that you come to terms with the fact that he is a part of you and that you embrace that part of yourself. He isn’t your enemy,” she says, standing from her seat. He’s not exactly my friend either.
“You are at an advantage. You have a direct source to reach him,” she says as we walk towards her door. That’s my worry, I don’t want to reach him, connect with him or understand him. I want him to disappear. I want him gone, like he never existed.