Seasons of DID
On Sunday, we drove to a local farmers market, winding through a valley nestled between the Boquet River and two of the Adirondack’s 46 high peaks. The leaves were changing color, from green to gold to orange to all shades of red. Not quite “peak”, as they call it here, but almost, maybe a few days away from the two weeks when autumn colors are at their best.
Living amidst such beauty with a loving husband by my side, a daughter and her family just a few blocks away, and other children with their families dotting the county, it’s hard to remember how hard it was for me for twenty years of my life. How hard it was for them because of how hard it was for me. How we survived and, in many cases, thrived.
Winter
Just like the natural world, we live through seasons of our lives. For me, winter was the ten years leading up to my diagnosis. That’s when I truly felt “crazy.” That’s when the painful pulsing of the cells in my skin had no context. That’s when the “me” I knew was no longer there, even though I was there. That’s when death seemed more logical than life. That’s when every step I took to gain control, failed. Winter lasted such a long time.
Mud Season
Up here in the North Country, we call the transition between winter and spring “mud season.” My own personal mud season lasted ten years too. That’s when I was diagnosed with multiple personality disorder (now known as dissociative identity disorder) so at least there was some context for my craziness. My skin cells still pulsed, the “me” I knew turned into many “me’s”, death was always an option, but occasionally, when I tried to gain control, I took two steps forward and one step back. I made friends with my alters. I listened to their stories. I worked on relationships with other people. I waded through my triggers. I was hanging on by a thread most of the time, but I sloshed through the mud anyway.
Spring
The thing about mud season is that it seems to last forever but, really, spring is on the way. You don’t know it when you’re in the middle of wet dirt up to your waist but it’s there. Somewhere in the brown, sticky goo, I integrated effortlessly and that was the first sign of spring. I still had pain and fear, but my alters trusted me enough to let me handle it as one whole person. I still had bandages that held me together, relationships to repair, a life to remake, inner work to complete. Now, though, I would do all of this with one consciousness as my alters quietly rested in the folds of my brain, passively influencing me but never taking control. The ten years of mud season were over, and spring had sprung, lasting only about six years, but productive, mostly happy years where I consolidated the hard work of winter and mud season.
Summer
Of course, summer is the season I’m in now, perhaps the end of summer looking toward fall, at the age of 74. Twenty-six years of hard work blessed me with layers of understanding, blankets of insight, and buckets of compassion for myself and others. Gratitude is my calling card and deep peace is my ticket home. Most of all, my wounds have been healed and I can give and receive oodles of love.
Self-Care
Everyone lives through seasons – the kind that defines the weather outside and the kind that defines our sense of self inside. Seasons represent change. Change represents hope. Hope represents healing. Healing represents becoming the people we were meant to be.
Rest assured that whatever season you’re in, you will remain in it as long as you need to, and emerge from it when you’re ready. If you are able, give yourself over to your present season. Tackle the tasks it has put in front of you. Let it teach you about your past so you can live in the present. Sometimes it’s one day at a time and sometimes it’s one moment at a time.
Now that you’ve attended to your inner season, let the outer season lift your spirits. Go outside and discover what nature has in store for you. Watch the change right before your very eyes. Know that change will lead you to your future.
Invitation
Check out my website at www.lynbarrett.com where you can download my free ebook called DID Unpacked and receive a free weekly newsletter. My memoir, Crazy: Reclaiming Life from the Shadow of Traumatic Memory will be released on December 1, 2021. PREORDERS are coming soon! Our new Dissociative Writers website is filled with writing opportunities to explore.
What Do You Say?
Share your thoughts in the Comments below.
Does the metaphor of “seasons” help you understand your life?
What season are you in now?
Do you see yourself change?
Can you imagine hope for the future?
Are you coming close to a change in your season?
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For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.
Ecclesiastes 3: 1