Will Therapy Ever End?

Our current therapist made a comment recently that made my heart sink. They said they thought we’re likely to need, at least, some supportive counselling for the rest of our lives.

The body is in it’s early thirties. If we make it to even eighty, that’s another fifty or so years of therapy. Maybe not weekly like now, but perhaps monthly.

Our current therapist will also be retiring in the near future. We’re trying not to worry too much about that, and trying to focus on getting as much DID focussed work done as possible in the time we have left.

That’s one of the hardest parts about having DID. Finding a therapist who has enough knowledge and experience to actually be helpful to us. In the last eight years we’ve just been lucky to come across therapists who are excellent at working with trauma and dissociation.

We’ve recently spent several weeks in hospital. None of us regret the admission. We got a lot of work done, and nearly all of us were able to talk to our therapist. No easy feat when there’s eighteen of us!

Our therapist is confident that we’ll have the majority of our trauma and DID based work done before they retire. I’m not sure how realistic that is. As much as ongoing therapy (for the rest of my life) makes my heart sink, I also can’t imagine our life without regular therapy or hospital admissions.

Does therapy ever end when you’ve experienced chronic childhood trauma?

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Our Sensory Toys

Over the years we’ve slowly accumulated a rather nice collection of sensory toys. These toys, often aimed at children with Autism Spectrum Disorder
and/or Sensory Processing Disorder, are also helpful for people with anxiety and trauma based disorders.

We have a complicated list of different diagnoses including both physiological and psychological. I’ve seen so many different doctors, specialists, therapists, and allied health professionals. All have given different advice and guidance on managing my symptoms.

When it comes to my mental health the things I’ve found most helpful are the ones I’ve discovered on my own, or suggestions from professionals that I’ve tweaked to better suit my needs.

No one every suggested sensory toys for grounding. Ever. I can’t remember how I stumbled upon them. Mostly they were fun toys. I knew I’d pick at skin, fingernails, and clothing when feeling anxious, so something to play with helped. Sometimes that meant taking a soft toy to therapy to hold and play with. Now I usually sit and run my fingers over the plastic bottle of Diet Vanilla Coke I have before/during therapy. It has raised bumps, lines, and the label, plus the lid. Lots of different textures.

At home I have more choice: a weighted soft toy, a fidget cube, two different tangle toys, and a weighted blanket with fiddle tags.

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Our collection of sensory toys: A weighted hedgehog soft toy, a fidget cube, two tangle toys (smooth, and textured), and our 8kg (17.5 pounds) weighted blanket with our DIY fiddle tags.

Different parts have preferred items. The pastel tangle toy is Miss 12 G’s, but not the textured tangle toy. That hasn’t been claimed by anyone yet, but I quite like it. I close my eyes and focus on the texture of each piece, try to describe it, then picture it. The fidget cube is relatively new, and liked by several of us – Miss 5 likes the colours, Miss 12 G likes pressing/touching different parts of it in order (all about patterns with her!).

The big weighted hedgehog toy belongs to all of us. Not only is it weighted (I think it’s 1-2kg), but the fabric it’s made of is all different textures that can be touched, rubbed, ruffled, and played with for all different sensations. It’s comforting (the weight), and distracting (the textures) for all of us.

That brings me to our 8kg (17.5 pounds) weighted blanket. I still have absolutely no regrets about buying it, and spending so much time sewing fiddle tags on. We still find the weight calming and reassuring, and the fiddle tags good for grounding like the sensory toys.
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Ignorance Is Not Bliss

Avoidance. Pushing internal stress away. Dissociating. Zoning out. Eating disorder behaviours. Self medicating.

That’s all avoidance. I’m the Queen of Avoidance. Ultimately I know that avoiding stressors instead of dealing with them isn’t helpful, but it’s still a trap I tend to fall in to. Avoidance is what lead to my hospital admission just recently.

It all began back in February. I went for some routine tests and received some very unexpected and worrying results. I was told to attend a specialist hospital emergency department as soon as possible for more tests and/or treatment. Although I was calm on the outside, I was an anxious, nervous, scared mess inside.

I had all the tests done, saw the relevant specialists, and was sent home with an outpatient appointment for follow up and hopefully a diagnosis. Then, due to sleep deprivation from the stress and anxiety of this first health issue, I experienced an episode of another severe health issue. This landed me in the local hospital emergency department for the evening until, after tests came back clear, I was allowed to go home.

All of that happened over a one week period. The stress of having to deal with serious physical health issues made me push my mental health to the back burner. I just needed to go to appointments, have tests done, get answers etc.

Bad move. It turns out that, for me, pushing mental health to the back burner sets me on a slippery slope to chaos and despair. From February to June my symptoms slowly increased. The most noticeable was the avoidance of everything inside – alters/parts were silenced, and I gradually lost all connection with everything happening inside.

At some point that avoidance started bubbling away like a volcano getting ready to explode. Others memories and emotions began leaking through. The flashbacks started and became gradually worse. Eventually I was becoming anxious at 5pm because bedtime was in four to five hours, and bedtime meant flashbacks. I tried to avoid sleeping, but that didn’t work. I switched to increasing one of my medications so that I could manage the bedtime anxiety better, and fall asleep more easily.

That’s where I was at when I went in to hospital. An anxious, stressed, emotionally worn out, nearly falling in a heap mess.

‘Oh, just PTSD stuff.’

‘Oh, just PTSD stuff.’ That’s how I brushed off the need for my recent psychiatric hospital admission to a work colleague.

I’m disappointed that I felt the need to minimise how much I was struggling, but there’s also only so much that’s appropriate to explain in the workplace. I gave my manager even less information. I just said that I needed to go into hospital and would need two to four weeks off work. No questions were asked, and for that I’m grateful.

How was I to explain that I have a generally unknown mental health condition, and that I was struggling to cope with an increase in symptoms? At work it’s not appropriate, and not necessary. I was more honest with one colleague because I’ve known them a long time.

The real reason for my most recent hospital admission? DID chaos. I was having more flashbacks, anxiety was increasing, and I was doing everything I could to isolate myself from everyone inside and their feelings and memories. I also had trauma anniversaries rapidly approaching, and a lot of anxiety about those. All of that anxiety and stress meant falling asleep at night was becoming increasingly difficult.

I’d made an appointment with my psychiatrist, at the urging of my then psychologist (she’s since retired), to discuss a hospital admission. I didn’t think things were too bad. I was still functioning, even if I was struggling a lot. Throw in a severe dissociative episode in the days before seeing my psychiatrist and I stopped fighting. I willingly agreed to the hospital admission.

 

Returning

We’ve been quiet again for a little while. Internal chaos was building, flashbacks increasing, and my ability to cope was fading.

I spent a few weeks in hospital doing some of the most intense therapy I’ve ever done. Really, truly addressing the trauma we’ve experienced. There were tears, plenty of zoning out, but ultimately triumph.

Trigger words are no longer so triggering. They’re sensitive and painful, but no longer triggering. I can use these words to describe the trauma we experienced instead of doing everything I can to avoid it.

We managed to do a lot of work with different parts. There’s still plenty of work left to do with different parts, but we did a lot.

Now we’re home we’re taking time to adjust to life at home. It will take time to get used to having our freedom. Once we’ve settled back in to day-to-day life I’ll try to write more regularly.