Our First Troll

Hi guys, this is Julia. I just wanted to write a post to commemorate our first online troll.

Unfortunately it wasn’t on THIS blog, but it was in response to a comment Andi made on someone else’s blog. That blogger then accused us of faking DID, said Andi “stalked” Zooey and only “whines about therapy”. She further claimed that Andi “stole” two of her blog posts and “twisted” them into her own. She also specifically put my name in quotations to suggest I am not real. She called me a liar, but when I asked her to explain how she thought I was lying, she suddenly acquired a migraine headache.

She also insulted Andi for doing research on DID despite thinking that many of the mental health professionals she worked with were are “narcissistic douchebags with a savior complex” (I will assume she doesn’t yet understand the concept of living in the dialectic). She also said something about someone named Sam (the hobbit?) and something about an online stalker. None of us have any clue what she’s talking about.

Also, did she like memorize our blog? What a weirdo.

I knew this moment would come. I knew we’d be called a liar (nothing new). I knew people would say cruel things. But I’m proud of Andi, River, and I. We’ve made a large enough ripple to start pissing people off!

-Julia

ETA: In all seriousness though, this is another blogger with DID. These comments appear to be made by a single part, so I’m not sure if the main author feels the same way, or just this part. I know I have several parts that share very different opinions from my own. Regardless, none of us should be policing each other’s diagnoses or accusing people of faking their illness. That’s just cruel and also contributes to the stigma that poisons our lives. Be kind to each other, fellow bloggers! Love, Andi

The Difference A Year Makes

EDIT: After I published this, I was notified that it’s my 100th post. Seems right 🙂

Today was the first day of practical exams. I had one test earlier this afternoon. Out of the three I have for midterms, this was the test I was most nervous about. I was very happy that I could complete this practical first. The other two are Wednesday and Thursday.

I did well. Not perfect, but very well. I made one small (but important) error that should be worth about 5 points or so. The grading is mostly subjective, so a lot of it depends on how the professor is feeling at that moment. I tried to bring a positive energy into the room, so hopefully she was in a good mood. At one point she commented on how calm I was throughout my exam and I almost burst into laughter on the spot. It’s not that I wasn’t calm (I was – my partner took my pulse as part of his exam and it was a steady 60 beats per minute), but of all the things we’ve been called throughout this lifetime, “calm” is definitely not one of them.

However, I was pleasantly surprised at how well we, as a system, have handled the amount of stress we’ve been under this past week. I remember last year at this time when we took our very first practical exam, ever. I was standing in lab after the exam was over. I was working on a lab project with three classmates. I knew I had done well on the exam, but I was so physically riled up from all of the stress and anxiety leading up to the test that once it was over, I just…lost it. I was cursing and shaking and making a fool out of myself in front of my professor (who put her hand on my shoulder and asked me if I was okay after I flung a small object across the room). It was the first time I felt like I was watching myself behave in this totally inappropriate manner. It was like being trapped and having to watch myself have a meltdown from INSIDE my own body. I was humiliated and terrified.

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Two days later I had a session with Zooey. I told her what happened and explained how bizarre the experience was. I said that it felt as though I was doing something, but I didn’t WANT to be doing it. I couldn’t stop. It was as if someone else was in control of my body and I was just watching.

This experience was so upsetting for me that I kept spiraling further and further into meltdown mode. I couldn’t sleep. I was scared all the time that it would happen again and I would embarrass myself (or worse).

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