And then there was one ...

One year ago yesterday, Brad and I went to church for the first time in forever because Covid restrictions had been lifted for a while and we felt like it was time.

Little did I know, God had Plans (yes, with a capital P) for me, for us, that day.  For today, let me preface this with:  In case you're new here, or you hadn't heard (I haven't kept it a secret), I have been dealing with Dissociative Identity Disorder most of my life, but not consciously until early 2013.  You used to be able to read about some of it on my old blog, but I accidentally deleted that, so until or unless I decide to write a book about it, you'll just have to take my word for it. Very early in the healing journey, I adopted the term "insiders" as my chosen name for my inner parts.

However.  Here's how I wrote about the last Sunday in October, 2021.  It's been a year since this happened, and sometime in the next few days I'll come back and write more about what's different, but for now - here's the email I sent trickling out to family and friends, as slowly, slowly, slowly, I allowed myself to believe that what I experienced that Sunday was real.

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And Then There Was ...One

So a few things to start with:

• Brad and I haven’t been to church since they shut it down for Covid, even though it’s opened up again here.  We have a lovely Sunday morning routine of parking by the river listening to the sermon but we’ve both been feeling like we will need to start going to the physical building again soonish.
• I have had a particularly “interesting” relationship with one of my insiders – she initially wouldn’t talk to me at all even though she made strong attempts to control my behaviour/attitudes. She’s been a lot of work and very antagonistic.  She’s one of the few later insiders to show up with a name – her name is Sharon. 
•  

Okay.  Sunday morning I’m lying in bed trying to decide if today is the day because our reluctance to go to church is often fueled by what I think my internal system can handle.  So I prayed “Church?  No church?” and I felt like the answer was church.  And then Brad woke up and said he didn’t think we’d be on time, let’s try next week and I was HA! I don’t have to go to church! And then I remembered that Brad actually isn’t my final authority and I said “I think I’m being called to church today” so we went. 

Partway into the singing I realized that, inside my head, Sharon was sitting next to me with her head on my shoulder.  This was astonishing enough but then she just …the only way I know to explain what integration feels like for me is to say it felt like she moved into my body, not to take it over (as they sometimes did) but a sort of merging.  She was beside me and then she wasn’t but she wasn’t exactly gone either.  I asked her “Are you sure?  Two weeks ago you hated me.” And she said “I don’t have anything left that I need to do.”

As I was trying to process this, I heard the words “It’s time” in the gentlest most compassionate voice you can imagine and a steady stream of parts followed her.  Integrating.  Integration is a word and even a concept that I have resisted for a very long time, not because I didn’t want it, but because I thought if that was the goal I might actually get in the way of my own healing and slow it down by focussing on the endgame, not the process. I watched it happen, I felt it happening, and I also noticed a great deal of fear and resistance and as I sat there battling I remembered our church has a prayer room that is staffed during the service.  I felt like God was encouraging me to go for prayer and to go right then, so I did. 

 There was an older couple there (much older than Brad and I, which is actually still possible) and I couldn’t figure out how to broach it so I just said “I’m going to say the thing and let’s see where that goes.  I have been living with DID for approximately ten years and I feel like God is calling me to integration but there’s a lot of fear and resistance so I’m here for help with that.”  Turns out the woman I was talking to was a retired psychiatric nurse who also spent several years facilitating a group for adult survivors of childhood sexual abuse. She didn’t bat an eye, and she knew exactly how to bring my request to God.  There are so few times in our lives that we feel certain that we are part of a divine appointment, but Sunday was one of them

.Brad and I went for a drive for the rest of the day because I needed to process.  All day I watched parts fall asleep, getting sleepier and sleepier and they’re all there, still, I can visualize them, but they radiate relief that their job is done, that they can finally lay it all down.  It’s weirdly quiet inside my head.  I’m so used to checking in, to make sure everyone is okay, to handling triggers and nurturing them – it feels a bit lonely but also oh my goodness, so so freeing.

 

I am so deeply grateful.

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I'm still grateful.