Archive for October 2nd, 2012

None of you know Melissa.  You don’t know Jason either.  Or Amelia.

Jason was from my coma.  He visually appeared and we did “talk.”  Symbolically for him, a feeling of my own voice in my head for me.  He was about 8-years-old.  I’ve suffered retrograde and anterograde amnesia surrounding the whole event, but when I came out of my coma, apparently he was all I’d talk about for hours or even days!

Well, “Melissa” did appear vocally (in my head) when I was taking the evil Depakene to initially attempt treating the Typical Absence Status Epilepticus.  She was a child then, but is now 19.

Amelia is 6-years-old and showed up a little while ago when I was emailing someone about a seizure I just had.  Amelia called them (as I was just writing) what I had called them as a child when I had them at her age.

Then, I began to write like her in the email.  My handwriting changed to that of a child’s as well when I was writing all of this in my notes.

Then, Melissa showed up.  Again.  Dangerous.  Ominous.  Predatory.  Violent.  I knew it was her.  Before, when she spoke in my head, she was a brutal, extremely angry child, and beyond condescending.  She also held great disdain for me!

After Amelia was set aside, it was time for a “confrontation” with Melissa’s presence all over me.  I felt like I was physically doing battle.  My entire body was aching, and in so much pain.  Then it stopped.

More to the story, but Melissa said I would finish grieving: 19.  I don’t think days! 19 months?

Now, like Jason, it is basically a form of telepathic and intuitive form of communication.  There are no “voices” I can hear in my head from them, per se.  Sort of.  It’s complicated.

I have tried and tried to get Jason back so many times and it hurts so much.  Nothing.  I have questioned if he was my lost twin I “met” while in my coma.

Melissa and Amelia? Unpredictable.  Well, Amelia is only six! Not to mention Melissa is her protector.  Interestingly enough, after all the fighting, Melissa is my “protector” too.  I asked about the age change and she replied that she had to figure out if I was a strong enough and suitable host.

Perhaps that’s why Melissa doesn’t show up too much.  She’s protecting me.  She did say one time when I was fuelled with questions, that it was “enough.”  It was too much (for me) right now.  Then she was gone.

Due to factors of my mother’s miscarriage, I’m wondering if I may in fact be a multiple Womb Twin Survivor! Ugh.

I keep questioning myself, thinking I’m totally insane, and asking Melissa to prove she and Amelia actually exist! Melissa says it doesn’t work that way.  It’s not like they’re evil demons that will turn me into Linda Blair or start throwing things across the room.

Regardless.  19.  19.  19.

VERY IMPORTANT: If anyone who is remotely under the DID umbrella of diagnoses and/or has PTSD (as well) I’d really like to hear from you.  I haven’t picked up any Womb Twin Survivors (yet?)

Wait.  Oh, boy.

I was thinking all along while writing this, Melissa wanted me to do it.  I went to the bathroom, pondering the idea, and BANG! Melissa said she’s my protector, so who is this that almost hit me like a brick? And then told me, “You’ll never get what you want, you know.”


I told him since I was in the bathroom, why don’t we (old school) “take it outside.”  I went for a cigarette.  Of course, more questions.  Me back to going out of my mind, thinking I’m just putting my own words into some delusion in my head.

He said, “You couldn’t put any more words into my mouth, because I have more than enough for you.”  And why the bullying? He said he’d do it just because it’s fun.

Melissa? Did you make me write this somehow?  “No,” she sighed.  “Bruce” did.

POSTSCRIPT:  I can see all of the aforementioned very clearly in my mind.  I can describe exactly what they look like.  Bruce? Not quite yet? He’s around my age though.  I know that.  Dressed like a “tough guy.”  Dark hair.  Hefty build but not overweight.

Further, I have never had any delusions or hallucinations before in my life.