“For the rest of 1993, I was so ‘safe’ in my home that I was miserable. Feeling ‘safe’ at home brought on such misery that I was at the end of my rope and hanging by a thread. Dixie and Audrey noticed that I seemed to be unaware of certain time segments in my life (as described in the example below), or that I wasn't able to be as ‘co-conscious’ as was ‘normal’ for me. I was less able to maintain control of my various parts, and this was all definitely having an effect on my life.
“The husband of one of my good friends came to visit me from England. He apparently told me a long story about how his wife's brother-in-law had died. This would have been an important story to me because my friend had often talked about her sister and brother-in-law. I practically felt like I knew them.
“A couple of days later, he was visiting me again and we were at Dixie's house. He told Dixie about this same death and I was totally shocked. ‘What? Milford died?’ He proceeded to tell us a long story about it and said that he had already told this story to me a few days earlier. I had absolutely no recollection of having heard the story.
“I mentioned this incident to one of my daughters who said, ‘Mom, it happens all of the time.’ She told me that she constantly tells me things that she has told me over and over again, but that I don't seem to remember the conversations. At the dinner table a few nights later, I was talking to another daughter about having parts, and she asked, ‘Is that why you can't ever remember the things we tell you, because somebody else hears it?’”
The interesting thing about forgetting or losing periods of time or conversations is that I was totally unaware of the problem. The forgetting was so complete, I wasn’t even cognizant that there were any holes in my daily conversations. In a strange way, however, this lack of being co-conscious meant that different parts were getting closer to the surface and becoming a part of my life. This was a necessary step in order for those parts to eventually be able to heal.
“The husband of one of my good friends came to visit me from England. He apparently told me a long story about how his wife's brother-in-law had died. This would have been an important story to me because my friend had often talked about her sister and brother-in-law. I practically felt like I knew them.
“A couple of days later, he was visiting me again and we were at Dixie's house. He told Dixie about this same death and I was totally shocked. ‘What? Milford died?’ He proceeded to tell us a long story about it and said that he had already told this story to me a few days earlier. I had absolutely no recollection of having heard the story.
“I mentioned this incident to one of my daughters who said, ‘Mom, it happens all of the time.’ She told me that she constantly tells me things that she has told me over and over again, but that I don't seem to remember the conversations. At the dinner table a few nights later, I was talking to another daughter about having parts, and she asked, ‘Is that why you can't ever remember the things we tell you, because somebody else hears it?’”
The interesting thing about forgetting or losing periods of time or conversations is that I was totally unaware of the problem. The forgetting was so complete, I wasn’t even cognizant that there were any holes in my daily conversations. In a strange way, however, this lack of being co-conscious meant that different parts were getting closer to the surface and becoming a part of my life. This was a necessary step in order for those parts to eventually be able to heal.
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