Sunday, November 21, 2004
Dissociative or Deaf, You Decide
I think we’re going deaf. It’s no big surprise. We Qs have what my mother called “Burgess family ears”. We were prone to earaches as a child. If we had a cold we got an earache. I miss hearing some things, like owls calling in the woods. I can still hear them if I go outside, but I remember being comforted hearing them as I lay awake in bed.
I thought about going deaf this morning because the dog ran off into the bushes. I know, you’re wondering about that connection. It’s not as far out there as it seems. I stood in the doorway sipping my coffee and Merlot disappeared into the mist. I knew if he were on a deer track he’d never hear me call him off because he’s pretty deaf. He’s the only dog I’ve ever known who lies down next to drums when Owl’s band practices. For a while Owl worried Merlot’s loyalty cost him his hearing. I doubt it. I think he was born that way.
Merlot is also selectively deaf. He’s learned to use his disability to manipulate. It’s so human. We had a horse that learned the same trick. He went lame out on the trail. He’d pitched a shoe. We had to walk him down out of the mountains. Ever after when he wanted to go back to the barn he executed a convincing limp.
Conscious manipulation requires higher thinking skills and an orderly thought process.
First the animal must remember the circumstances that fit what they want to accomplish. Then they need to display behaviors that will turn events their way. It’s human training 101. Pretty sophisticated if you ask me. Since their brains are awash in the same chemicals as ours it shouldn’t be such a surprise.
If Merlot doesn’t want to do something you can shout the command right in his face and he just turns his head away with that little smile dogs get when they laugh at humans.
Having pets is really important to us. Like the people we love they help anchor us in this reality. If we lived alone we’d still need to remember to come out here in the physical world to feed and walk the dog. Of course that requires coffee, which leads to food, which is how we start each day. We feed Merlot and remember we need to eat too. Isn’t dissociation fun class?
It opens up a whole new industry: companion pets for dissociatives. Even fish would work. Actually plants aren’t a bad choice either if they require regular watering. Cacti wouldn’t work so well.
You’d think a routine would help us maintain the balance between inside and outside life. Maybe for some multiples that is a good tool. Like always doing laundry on Mondays, or taking trash out on Fridays. But in reality sometimes you run out of socks on Saturday or the trash overflows on Wednesday. Being flexible is better. Routine only makes our obsessive alters obsess to a greater degree.
We do have some techniques to keep things moving forward. el records deadlines, meetings and appointments and lists our personal goals and projects and those underway for each client. We have a family message board where everyone can record things we need to know, like “Owl works Monday and Tuesday”. This avoids us asking six or seven times what days he’s working. Lately we forget an answer right after we get it. I’m not sure why.
Everyone in the family assumes it’s because each of us asks the same question and we don’t share the information. It’s easier for us to let everyone to blame it on that than it is to try and figure out what is actually going on.
Welcome to another fun aspect of dissociation. Sometimes you just have no clue. Or worse, you don’t even notice it even after someone points it out because it’s too scary to examine. So you ignore the concept that you’re ignoring stuff.
Lately I tend to blame it on Pleiades. Why not? If he won’t communicate he’s an easy scapegoat. Besides, he pulled a really annoying stunt today that I have no desire to discuss in detail. Suffice it to say Eyvonne and I finally successfully eluded the sex police and were having a great time. Suddenly Pleiades slammed me on the forehead, took ops and locked me out. I could be really pissed off but what’s the point? It’s actually kind of funny, Pleiades as the sex police.
So you may well wonder what I did the rest of the day. Because you see, time does not stop inside because we’re blocked from the outside. el thinks we could be dead a week before we’d all notice.
I fumed for a while. Then I imagined what fun it might be to bludgeon Pleiades for oh, perhaps an hour or so and make him promise never, ever, to do that again. Then I remembered how much he looks like me, but bigger. It would be like beating up myself. Besides, I might lose. And fighting among us seriously disrupts the system.
I went to el’s place and sat down on a supremely comfortable tattered armchair. A good therapist could do an entire dissertation on el’s abode. Why a tattered armchair? And for that matter, why a library? It was at least enclosed by a house now. For years it was just a library with one wall missing. Now he has a house with porches and steps leading up to them. There are lots of other rooms in his house, a second floor, and even an attic. But sometimes I miss the old days when you could just look in and see what he was up to. Another point for that dissertation.
Today he was reading. Usually if he isn’t reading he’s writing.
What’s up? he mindtouched me. His glasses slid down his beaky nose. Now there’s another thing. Why would you wear glasses inside where you could have 20/20 vision?
Do you know what Pleiades did to me today? I mindtouched.
el tried very hard not to smirk, I’ll give him that. Yeah, I know, he said.
You just think it’s funny because I used to do it to you, I said.
el nodded. Makes you wonder how long he’s been hiding.
I had an annoying urge to laugh.
How old am I? I asked.
el shrugged. I assume you’re not talking chronological age. So maybe mid-thirties?
No, I mean how long have I been part of the system? When’s the earliest you remember me?
Shel, I never remember a time without you. What are you driving at?
This guy not only looks like me, he feels like me. Remember my dream?
el nodded thoughtfully. How long do you think he’s been around?
A long, long time, I said. He slipped into driving that car like a pro. He’s either got complete access to what we all know or he’s driven a lot.
Ian peeked around the door. Private bitch session? he asked.
No, come on in, I answered.
Since ‘e still ‘as a lock on ops I might as well, Ian mindtouched. He looked at me closely. So why aren’t ya freakin’ out Shel? Don’t ya care wha ‘e’s doin out there?
I started to sweat. Ian was right. I wasn’t doing my job. I should be fighting to get ops back. What the hell was wrong with me?
I leaped toward the door. el put his hand on my shoulder. Wait Shel. Think this out a minute. I don’t think Ian meant you’re doing something wrong. I think he’s asking you to take a closer look at this, el said.
Ian nodded.
I don’t think confrontation is a good idea with this one. Let me try. I’ll just ask him for ops and see what happens, el suggested.
Can you mindtouch him? I can’t find him, not ever, I admitted.
Don’t worry about that now. Just let me see what I can do, el said.
el appeared to be concentrating intensely. He reached his hand up and then he had ops. I knew he did. I could feel it.
So did he just hand off to you all nice, just like that? I asked.
el sighed.
No, he bailed as soon as he realized I could reach him.
I felt my fists contract in frustration. Ian slipped his arm over my shoulder. Give ‘im time, he advised.
That’s rich coming from you Ian, I pointed out. If I’d given you time we’d be dead.
‘e’s had plenty a’chances to do that if ‘e wanted too, Ian said. I dinna ‘ave a clue when I came into the system. ‘e knows what’s goin’ on.
He’s been hiding a long time Shel, el said. He’s a Protector. Having trust issues goes with the territory. Once he’s sure we’re OK he’ll come in.
I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe it in the worst way. But all I could think of was that not being able to mindtouch Pleiades felt like being deaf. He certainly didn’t seem to hear me.
It reminded me of a time when none of us in the system could mindtouch anyone else. We panicked. It was like wandering around in a pitch blackness. I shuddered just remembering my terror.
Terror. It had been someone’s fear that caused it.
Was Pleiades afraid? Of me? Was that what this was about?
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
I thought about going deaf this morning because the dog ran off into the bushes. I know, you’re wondering about that connection. It’s not as far out there as it seems. I stood in the doorway sipping my coffee and Merlot disappeared into the mist. I knew if he were on a deer track he’d never hear me call him off because he’s pretty deaf. He’s the only dog I’ve ever known who lies down next to drums when Owl’s band practices. For a while Owl worried Merlot’s loyalty cost him his hearing. I doubt it. I think he was born that way.
Merlot is also selectively deaf. He’s learned to use his disability to manipulate. It’s so human. We had a horse that learned the same trick. He went lame out on the trail. He’d pitched a shoe. We had to walk him down out of the mountains. Ever after when he wanted to go back to the barn he executed a convincing limp.
Conscious manipulation requires higher thinking skills and an orderly thought process.
First the animal must remember the circumstances that fit what they want to accomplish. Then they need to display behaviors that will turn events their way. It’s human training 101. Pretty sophisticated if you ask me. Since their brains are awash in the same chemicals as ours it shouldn’t be such a surprise.
If Merlot doesn’t want to do something you can shout the command right in his face and he just turns his head away with that little smile dogs get when they laugh at humans.
Having pets is really important to us. Like the people we love they help anchor us in this reality. If we lived alone we’d still need to remember to come out here in the physical world to feed and walk the dog. Of course that requires coffee, which leads to food, which is how we start each day. We feed Merlot and remember we need to eat too. Isn’t dissociation fun class?
It opens up a whole new industry: companion pets for dissociatives. Even fish would work. Actually plants aren’t a bad choice either if they require regular watering. Cacti wouldn’t work so well.
You’d think a routine would help us maintain the balance between inside and outside life. Maybe for some multiples that is a good tool. Like always doing laundry on Mondays, or taking trash out on Fridays. But in reality sometimes you run out of socks on Saturday or the trash overflows on Wednesday. Being flexible is better. Routine only makes our obsessive alters obsess to a greater degree.
We do have some techniques to keep things moving forward. el records deadlines, meetings and appointments and lists our personal goals and projects and those underway for each client. We have a family message board where everyone can record things we need to know, like “Owl works Monday and Tuesday”. This avoids us asking six or seven times what days he’s working. Lately we forget an answer right after we get it. I’m not sure why.
Everyone in the family assumes it’s because each of us asks the same question and we don’t share the information. It’s easier for us to let everyone to blame it on that than it is to try and figure out what is actually going on.
Welcome to another fun aspect of dissociation. Sometimes you just have no clue. Or worse, you don’t even notice it even after someone points it out because it’s too scary to examine. So you ignore the concept that you’re ignoring stuff.
Lately I tend to blame it on Pleiades. Why not? If he won’t communicate he’s an easy scapegoat. Besides, he pulled a really annoying stunt today that I have no desire to discuss in detail. Suffice it to say Eyvonne and I finally successfully eluded the sex police and were having a great time. Suddenly Pleiades slammed me on the forehead, took ops and locked me out. I could be really pissed off but what’s the point? It’s actually kind of funny, Pleiades as the sex police.
So you may well wonder what I did the rest of the day. Because you see, time does not stop inside because we’re blocked from the outside. el thinks we could be dead a week before we’d all notice.
I fumed for a while. Then I imagined what fun it might be to bludgeon Pleiades for oh, perhaps an hour or so and make him promise never, ever, to do that again. Then I remembered how much he looks like me, but bigger. It would be like beating up myself. Besides, I might lose. And fighting among us seriously disrupts the system.
I went to el’s place and sat down on a supremely comfortable tattered armchair. A good therapist could do an entire dissertation on el’s abode. Why a tattered armchair? And for that matter, why a library? It was at least enclosed by a house now. For years it was just a library with one wall missing. Now he has a house with porches and steps leading up to them. There are lots of other rooms in his house, a second floor, and even an attic. But sometimes I miss the old days when you could just look in and see what he was up to. Another point for that dissertation.
Today he was reading. Usually if he isn’t reading he’s writing.
What’s up? he mindtouched me. His glasses slid down his beaky nose. Now there’s another thing. Why would you wear glasses inside where you could have 20/20 vision?
Do you know what Pleiades did to me today? I mindtouched.
el tried very hard not to smirk, I’ll give him that. Yeah, I know, he said.
You just think it’s funny because I used to do it to you, I said.
el nodded. Makes you wonder how long he’s been hiding.
I had an annoying urge to laugh.
How old am I? I asked.
el shrugged. I assume you’re not talking chronological age. So maybe mid-thirties?
No, I mean how long have I been part of the system? When’s the earliest you remember me?
Shel, I never remember a time without you. What are you driving at?
This guy not only looks like me, he feels like me. Remember my dream?
el nodded thoughtfully. How long do you think he’s been around?
A long, long time, I said. He slipped into driving that car like a pro. He’s either got complete access to what we all know or he’s driven a lot.
Ian peeked around the door. Private bitch session? he asked.
No, come on in, I answered.
Since ‘e still ‘as a lock on ops I might as well, Ian mindtouched. He looked at me closely. So why aren’t ya freakin’ out Shel? Don’t ya care wha ‘e’s doin out there?
I started to sweat. Ian was right. I wasn’t doing my job. I should be fighting to get ops back. What the hell was wrong with me?
I leaped toward the door. el put his hand on my shoulder. Wait Shel. Think this out a minute. I don’t think Ian meant you’re doing something wrong. I think he’s asking you to take a closer look at this, el said.
Ian nodded.
I don’t think confrontation is a good idea with this one. Let me try. I’ll just ask him for ops and see what happens, el suggested.
Can you mindtouch him? I can’t find him, not ever, I admitted.
Don’t worry about that now. Just let me see what I can do, el said.
el appeared to be concentrating intensely. He reached his hand up and then he had ops. I knew he did. I could feel it.
So did he just hand off to you all nice, just like that? I asked.
el sighed.
No, he bailed as soon as he realized I could reach him.
I felt my fists contract in frustration. Ian slipped his arm over my shoulder. Give ‘im time, he advised.
That’s rich coming from you Ian, I pointed out. If I’d given you time we’d be dead.
‘e’s had plenty a’chances to do that if ‘e wanted too, Ian said. I dinna ‘ave a clue when I came into the system. ‘e knows what’s goin’ on.
He’s been hiding a long time Shel, el said. He’s a Protector. Having trust issues goes with the territory. Once he’s sure we’re OK he’ll come in.
I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe it in the worst way. But all I could think of was that not being able to mindtouch Pleiades felt like being deaf. He certainly didn’t seem to hear me.
It reminded me of a time when none of us in the system could mindtouch anyone else. We panicked. It was like wandering around in a pitch blackness. I shuddered just remembering my terror.
Terror. It had been someone’s fear that caused it.
Was Pleiades afraid? Of me? Was that what this was about?
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
