Sharing the Truth

Found: writings dated Thursday, March 14, 2013

Therapy was so productive today that I feel it is imperative to blog about it, mainly so that we (the K’s) can read it later and perhaps remember some of the session itself.

I’ve just returned home, and I am fully aware that I, the “person” writing this blog, am not the same person who left the house to go to therapy.  I’m not positive which K that was, but judging by the outfit and accessories we’re wearing I’d guess we were dressed by either the hippie one or Glitter Witch. They’re so similar that it’s often hard to tell them apart.  We think they might be split alters or twins, but that’s a whole other blog post and we haven’t discussed that theory, even amongst ourselves, as of yet.

I cannot remember driving there, and I can barely remember sitting in the waiting room. It seems as though the Sad K was the one sitting in the waiting room, but I’m not certain; I could see someone in a chair wearing a hat and sunglasses.  What I do know is that I woke up and became fully aware in the psychiatrist’s office.  It was vaguely familiar to me, like I’d been there before a long time ago.  I looked around the room at all the pictures and college degrees and photos. It was new to me. Some of it was like I’d dreamt it before but I was seeing these things up close and in great detail for the first  time.  I didn’t think anything of it as I took off our sunglasses and put them in my purse, then put on a pair of prescription glasses; I heard myself say aloud “These are the wrong glasses!”  and someone inside my head agreed.  (I was wearing the black and white glasses when I was clearly meant to be wearing the solid black ones.) Dr H was intrigued by this simple act. She told me that K almost always has her sunglasses on and refuses to take them off. That would be the Sad K, the one who usually talks (or rather doesn’t talk) to the psychiatrist.  I only know that because the doctor told me and I wrote it down in my notebook that we keep with us.

The doctor was so familiar to me, like I knew her but hadn’t seen her in a long time. Like when you’re an adult and run into one of your elementary school teachers. You recognize them a little bit, but can’t quite place the face of the person. That’s how it felt. She looked me in the eyes and smiled. And then we talked. A lot.  We talked and told lots of stories. We talked about things which I assumed she already knew… (I remember worrying at one point that I was repeating myself) but then Dr. H admitted that she’d never heard these stories, these thoughts, these perceptions of ours.  I found it peculiar that she didn’t know all about Kellie World and the inhabitants therein.  After all, she’s Kellie’s doctor, isn’t she supposed to know these things?  She asked questions, lots of questions, or maybe I just felt the need to convey the information to her. Both perhaps? Hmm. I can’t remember now.

At any rate, she and I talked for what seemed a very long time…although I recall some breaks here and there, during which times I tried to catch my breath, for the body is sick with a terrible chest infection and it’s difficult for us to breathe sometimes.  [read Our ARDS Story and you’ll understand why K is so susceptible to lung problems.] Ok, let’s get back onto the proper path before this distraction becomes so great we forget what it is that I, we, the Smart K’s, I suppose, to be completely truthful, see as the point of the whole writing assignment which we are currently engaged in.

Words. Too many words. But I’m a thinker and they come to me and I have to get them out of my head before the pressure inside our skull becomes unbearable and our head explodes.  It seems there’s just never enough time to write everything down! Too many ideas, too many thoughts, too many hopes and dreams…(many of them nightmares) I just cannot keep track of all of these things by myself. I can not. I need some help organizing my thoughts. I really, really do.  And so The Narrator is among us, to tell the stories.  She tells the stories, she recalls the small details, she helps make sure we remember what has happened to the K’s in our lifetime(s).  The Narrator works in perfect harmony with Switch K and K Prime (considered by some to be the most important K). Three peas in a pod.  Each needs the others, but yet we can’t help but wonder if perhaps someday it might be possible to meld us all together, to intertwine them, into one super high-functioning, very capable personality.

I dare say that I’ve allowed someone to veer off the intended course.  We are so far off the subject,  it is no longer possible for me to physically see the words we’ve already written, which means we have no clues…which means we are unable to remember the subject of this blog post.  We know that you’re thinking we should just scroll up to the top of the screen, but in doing so we’d really be just giving in and giving up. Letting the other side-the crazy side? Or is that me?-win the event.  And we simply can not allow that to happen.  We mustn’t lose the game.  And yes, it is all just a game.  I said it once before,  that night years and years ago when our best girlfriend (at that time, not at this time) came over to check on us because we’d made a peculiar phone call to her and she was concerned about the one whom she knew as Kellie.  She found me in a dissociated state, and one of the things we told her was that “Life is just a game. It’s not real.” If my memory serves me correctly, and by the grace of the gods my memory is much better than most other K’s, at least in part.  I can’t remember everything, none of us can, but I have the ability to recall minute details which seem trivial yet significant all at once.  In other, easier-to-understand words, I tend to get much further into the story of K than most all the other K’s.  If I can and/or do remember something, it will come rushing back to me like a wave crashing upon the shore, spewing intricate details all over the sand.  Oh. Wow. That time travel phenomenon is happening to us again…

So.  We have come back around full circle and arrived at an important part of the story.  Not sure exactly how I came to acquire this piece of knowledge… it seems like a friend told me this part but we just can’t remember!  I, as most of the K’s, am a secret keeper.  It is part of my job, my role, my ultimate function.  Keep Kellie’s secret. It’s the number one law of the land, no less.  And so we strive to do just that, to keep safe K’s secret world, our secret existence, our secret realm. But in therapy, we opened up today.  We actually got up enough courage and motivation and chutzpah to tell Dr. H the big secret about our psych tests…

Some time ago, we were sent to the big city for psychological evaluation.  It took 2 weeks. There were hundreds of questions. Maybe thousands.  It was grueling.  It was demeaning.  It was emotional.  It was scary, at least to some of the parts.  And so.  We talked to those doctors who were testing us.  We spoke with the psychologists and psychiatrists and therapists.  We looked at their ink blots, we drew their pictures.  And that was so long ago that we can barely remember it.  Still no test results.  They put us through hell, and for what? All for naught.  Dr. H is unable to get anyone from the city to fax her my test results.  There appears to be a snag somewhere in the system, and Kellie is stuck.  We can neither move forward nor backwards.  We are at a standstill.  Perhaps our confession was due in part to this fact.  Perhaps we K’s are simply so eager for something to happen with the test results that we’re forcing our brains to process related information.  God. If only we could just spit out the words which we are trying to say, instead of talking around this long and winding road!  Frustration is setting in to be certain.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, we bring you to the point of this blog post. Yes, at long last the time has come to reveal the big secret which we have all been doing our part to contain.  *Drum roll please*  The thing is, the secret is, that Kellie did not answer all the test questions honestly.  We kept some secrets.  As a matter of fact,  K kept a great deal of secrets. Big secrets.  She never told the doctors about the other K’s.  She never spoke up about the variety of Kellie’s all coexisting within our mind.  WE didn’t take the test.  That was a different K… and she was far too paranoid to entrust with these strangers our great secret, which we’ve struggled to withhold for such an extended period of time.  K has been keeping our secret world a secret for so long that she blew it when given the chance to explain herself(s).  The doctors wanted to hear the stories. But we weren’t telling them. We didn’t know those doctors, we didn’t trust them. Still feel the same way. If one of them were to read this blog post and question the rest of us about it, well then we would have to keep a tightly-closed mouth.  Mum’s the word, people. Remember that.  Early mornings are perhaps the hardest…or is it late at night?  In any case… Four A.M. knows our deepest secrets.

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