I *Hate* Her – Paul: Week Five

I’ve been almost entirely abminuscule details of conversations in therapy. The answer is, generally speaking, really rather boring: I have simply been blessed with a very good memory. Which, when you think about it, for a serial dissociater (perhaps I should change the name of the blog to that?) is sort of ironic. Maybe remembering stupid things makes up for failing to remember others? Who knows. Anyhow, Nick wondered if perhaps I furiously scribble notes when I arrive back at my car – this is often the case indeed. Additionally, I’ll be sitting minding my own business, thinking of something else entirely, and then something will remind me of something said, and I’ll instantaneously whip out my iPhone to note my recollections.

That said, there are two qualifying points to that. As I note in the disclaimer section of this blog, I do often paraphrase or slightly embellish dialogue for the sake of (*ahem*) dramatic effect, and additionally, it is sometimes the case that maybe things didn’t necessarily take place in the order in which they are described. I’d like to iterate though that everything sad/described was said or did happen essentially as detailed – just in an even more desultory fashion. Secondly, there have been a few cases where I did record a session. If I recall correctly most of the relevant posts are protected, because I was paranoid that C may have found this blog and would be furious with me for my subterfuge. Now I don’t care if he knows, and even if I did, it’s not like any anger or irritation on his part is likely to affect me in any way now, is it?

** I really, really hate the word ‘survivor’ in this context. Apologies if that offends anyone – I certainly don’t mean it to. As ever, this applies to me, and not others. I don’t believe my life was ever in danger; therefore what the fuck was it that I survived? I once survived what could have been a serious car accident. I didn’t survive abuse because what else was I meant to have done? Just randomly died? Actually, Judith Stout in her book The Myth of Sanity argues that that very thing can happen, but I would be very surprised if it were a likelihood in cases like mine. Still, as she notes:

…[DID] seems to emerge spontaneously in situations of extreme early trauma, and is a highly effective self-protective strategy that may preserve the individual’s very life, by allowing him to think at all in circumstances that would otherwise be tetanizing [sic]. In situations that are too chronically terrifying for the self to deal with, the self may take advantage of its several ego states, may divide the stress, and cope as a group of specalized [sic] but interrelated selves. In this way, we survive. In this way, as in so many others, our resilient brains are much more brilliant than we know.


So I see that I have failed in my attempt to keep this relatively short. I strode far too much into random introspection. Augh well. I should have learned by now that I can’t control my fingers when they touch the keyboard. Goodnight!