Kat, Katrina, Katy and sometimes Kate
Complicated is not the same as crazy.
Today I have forgotten what I was doing eleven times. I woke up from a light sleep with tears rolling down my face. I spent two hours taking 137 pictures before nine am and I found a note I don't recall writing. A typical day for us. When I say "us" I actually mean me. I have dissociative identity disorder. Sometimes I'm me, Kat but other times I am my 16 year old self Katrina. Other times I am my seven year old self Katy. Rarely I am my over protective and sometimes mean self Kate. I am adding to the earlier lens called Dissociative identity disorder as we know it. If you have already read that lens, then please forgive any repeated stuff I will be including here .
Kat & Co.
Did I hear someone call my name?
A dog person named Kat..go figure
I was named in honor of my paternal grandmother. She was 100% Irish and her name was Marie Kathleen Lamkin originally. Then she married my grandfather and became Mrs. Joseph Glass. My name came from hers, but with her middle name slightly changed. Kathleen became Katherine. Her first name, Marie became my middle name. Wow, I just realized how confusing that sounds. Marie Kathleen turned into Katherine Marie. If I were to keep that idea going my daughter would then have my first name as her middle name and my middle named --slightly changed-- for her first name. I chose Mary Kate. I never did have a daughter though, and my three sons probably wouldn't have appreciated the family namesake idea much. I guess names are a big deal in the Glass family. My grandfather, my father, my half-brother, and his son all share the same name. Joseph Nathan Glass. With the appropriate titles like Jr. of course.
I was adopted when I was three years old. My new mom tells me a few years ago that she considered changing my name, as is her right as an adoptive parent. I asked her why she didn't and her reply was "well...there was no use in confusing you and besides, I had already bought your leather belt with your name on the back." I remember that little belt. I loved it and it matched hers, we were stylin' in the 70's. I had to ask her...what was her choice of names if she had changed it? "Kendall", she said. Kendall? I asked her why she chose that fairly uncommon name. It was her father's middle name. James Kendall Adams was his name. "Oh no...here we go again, more grandparents and their middle names, too funny" I thought to myself, but all the while smiling at the woman who loved me more than anything else in the world. "I would have been honored Mom" was all I could manage to say, and I meant it. My first son is named Jeffrey James after my grandfather, may they both rest in peace.
The keeper of secrets, the absorber of teardrops and the best bear a girl could have.
This is our teddy bear. His name is Hamster but he prefers Hammy. I object wholeheartedly to the idea that we outgrow our stuffed animals. I haven't outgrown my need for comfort and hugs, have you? Sometime I find him wearing some ridiculous thing like a scarf tied around him five times to act as a shirt or a newborn t-shirt or once, even a doll's dress. Apparently Katy feels Hammy shouldn't go around naked.
I have no idea why he is named after another animal, but if I can be a dog person and still be named Kat, then why not? Come to think of it, my youngest son Erik named his stuffed white tiger Hippopotamus. That IS weird. At the time, I was just impressed he even knew such a big word.
Who doesn't love Teddy bears?
For hugs and cuddles...
The photos here were all taken by me.
How old were you when you stopped sleeping with a teddy bear, doll or other childhood toy?
Kat is the photographer around here
I never miss a moment to keep forever
I have lots of things that I enjoy, but taking pictures is my favorite of all. To capture a moment that will never come again is just the best feeling. If the picture turns out to be great, well even better. As far as I know this passion of mine isn't shared with Katrina or Katy. I haven't looked at my camera and noticed settings that have been changed or even seen a picture that I don't recall taking myself. I have noticed other things. For instance, my journal is riddled with crayon drawn stick people and scribbly handwriting. It also has entries of risky endeavors complete with sexy details and such. My photography seems to remain my own. I like to think that dissociative identity disorder has not overtaken my core persona, that person who is ME. In my opinion, this disorder began as a defense mechanism and it really did it's job of defending my fragile psyche and keeping me from seriously losing my mind. What I can't seem to figure out is why these alter personalities are still here. I am no longer in any danger from my elders. I am a capable grown woman with children of my own. I did have some very intense therapy following my horrific childhood. I had to learn things that other people take for granted.
I hadn't been anywhere other than school and church for five years. Those years were between the ages of seven and 12. There were no trips to the doctor, dentist, park, friend's homes or even to the grocery store. My behaviors were strange and sometimes wild. My first trip inside a grocery store proved my need for such serious therapy. I went inside with my foster mother, Odessa Ball was her name, and immediately began eating fruit from the produce section as if it were the thing to do. She was pretty embarrassed and after she explained to me gently that this was not how we behaved, so was I. I learned all sorts of things in therapy that year. I had lessons in etiquette and manners. I worked on overcoming my fears of strangers and new situations. I had some impulse control to learn. My mind was sharp but often misdirected. I wanted other kids to like me so I would try too hard to fit in. I really wanted boys to like me so I quickly earned myself a bad reputation. Thanks to some very patient therapists and to one outstanding foster parent I did overcome my problems and I shudder to think what would have become of me if I'd never met these wonderful people. I only wish that Odessa Ball, of Marianna, Florida was still alive today so I could properly thank her. She saved me with so many small things she did, not just for me, but for the many girls that she welcomed into her home over the years. I know you are in Heaven Grandma, (we all called her grandma) so I'm not sure if you can read this but I wanted you to know how much you are appreciated and to thank you from the bottom of my
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Katrina did the laundry today
I can always tell when Katrina did the laundry. All of my unmentionables and shortest skirts are included in the wash load. As I folded these items I just smiled and shook my head. Will I ever have every minute of every day all to myself? Probably not. During the day I sometimes find myself in another room and doing something completely different from what I was doing only moments ago. The thing is, it's actually been twenty minutes or even hours later. I have stopped mid-sentence and felt totally lost as to the topic of conversation because for one reason or another, Katrina or Katy simply decided to bail on me. I have had countless arguments and ruined more than one friendship or relationship due to not being aware of something that I promised to do or not to do because I couldn't recall the conversation. Well, in my defense I wasn't even there at the time. It was Katrina or Katy or heaven forbid even Kate. Ok, that does sound strange but I don't know any other way to explain it.Sometimes I even forget whether I've eaten, or if I remembered to make an important phone call. At least twice a week I will look down at whatever I'm wearing and not even recall putting it on. At least its easy enough to figure out who DID put it on. Katy prefers pinks and ruffles or bows while Katrina likes anything skimpy or sexy and black is her color of choice. I spend a decent amount of my day quite confused and trying not to sound like an idiot or worse yet a crazy person. I become mentally drained from just trying to get through the day. I am accustomed to the routine of holding my life together and I wonder what I'd do with my time and energy if there were only me to keep up with? I might be more "normal" but then again, who's to say that I wouldn't be bored to tears and feel even more lost than I do already? I try not to dwell on a lot of "what ifs" but rather to keep things running as smoothly as possible and maybe one day I will look around to find that I'm all by myself for the first time in thirty one years.