Connie’s first grade class picture. Connie sits directly in front of the teacher. Mother made her dress.
Ralphie’s mom had coffee with Mother several mornings a week. A quirky little guy, he played happily with Connie and Marilyn in their bedroom. Mother never let them shut the bedroom door. She still hadn’t gotten over my brother poking holes in Barbie’s nipples with a straight pin. One morning, Mother heard the door shut. She left her coffee and opened the door. “Leave the door open. It’ll get too hot in here.” Ralphie was digging happily in the toy box, obviously in pursuit of some prize. In just a minute, Mother heard the door shut again. Leaving her coffee, she opened the bedroom again. Barbie dolls, clothes, and accessories were spread all around. Hurriedly, Ralphie hid a half-dressed Barbie behind his back. “Leave the door open. It’s hot in here.”
“…Alters in DID have “their own identities, involving a center of initiative and experience, they have a characteristic self-representation, which may be different from how the patient is generally seen or perceived, have their own autobiographic memory, and distinguish what they understand to be their own actions and experiences from those done and experienced by other alters, and they have a sense of ownership of their own experiences, actions, and thoughts, and may lack a sense of ownership of and a sense of responsibility for the action, experiences, and thoughts of other alters.”NIH
“Uneven learning: the child (with DID) knows how to complete a particular assignment quite well one day, doesn’t know how to do it the next day and then later when it has not been re-taught can successfully complete the task. Children might also be able to do math one day and the next day they might be totally unable to do the same math with no recollection that they have been able to do it the previous day.” NIH
Rob Goldstein is the alternate working on the interview with Harold Norse and he’s baffled: why does the Rob Goldstein on the tape refer to himself as illiterate?
Rob Goldstein can’t remember being illiterate just as he can’t remember
We’ve (I) always thought Rob Goldstein lived with Harold Norse.
Sometimes, trying to write, or trying to blog, I think, it’s all been done? Is there anything new under this sun or any other? This world is old, ancient, instead of getting discouraged that it’s all been done, why not be inspired? What piece can we add to the puzzle of flesh and blood? Why not add to the delicious soup of humanity?
1. Imagine the caveman/cavewoman who invented the wheel, thinking, “Aggh, me done, no more wheel”. Our ancestors roasting a woolly mammoth s’more over the first fire, “Fire good. No more. Been done”.
2. Remember the first song you heard? Did you think, no need to hear any more music.
3. First joke? You laughed and thought, did that, no need to laugh anymore.
4. Can there ever be enough smiles? Enough laughter? Enough joy?
When I told someone yesterday my friend died by suicide, adding that we never met face-to-face, I sensed that she didn’t understand the power of a virtual friendship.
Of course that’s not her fault – if you haven’t experienced being friends with an online “kindred spirit”, it’s hard to relate to the idea. But I was frustrated all the same because it was a genuine friendship.
How I hate writing that word “was”.
Ulla was a better friend to me than most of the friends I’ve ever had; hell, she was there for me during some of my toughest times far more than some of my relatives.
She supported my writing, and — this was big– she helped me grieve my father’s death. She truly understood what it was like to lose a parent since she had been through it too.