I grew to like her a lot. She was quite different from Dr. T in appearance, being a very tall woman with long, dark, curly tresses and large dark eyes. She reminded me a lot of Wonder Woman, when Linda Carter did the part. She would always throw the door open to the waiting room and stride forth boldly, just like Linda Carter did when she was about to do that dervish that transformed her into Wonder Woman. Then she would say, "Hi, Restin, Come on in" as she stopped elegantly half way into the room. I'm sure she was never aware of doing this. And she also listened attentively as I told about my inner stuff, and explained about the child inside. I had never told Dr. T about any child inside that I had discovered.

All my work on dissociation was my private concern, as I could never trust Dr. T. I could never expose to the likes of Dr.T the feral, scared, but truly dangerous creature I had discovered and promised to respect. But Dr. James was turning out to be different, and so providential I wondered if God had led me to her specifically for the purpose I was seeking...to find out what happened to the Love that I should have had, somewhere or other. And maybe work with a positive transference instead of just a negative one, as the books all say should happen.

And I did begin to love Dr. James.  She would actually talk to me!. I watched the child inside fall for her, and watched, with some concern, to see just how deep it would go. Had I really done anything of substance on myself the past few years, or would it be the same old sicko crap? I had to know!

The love of my child inside did grow strong, yet was also allowed to be there, for a change. I would dare to admit to Dr. James that I felt the dependence. And she dared to answer that it was all right. She dared to not be afraid of it. Dared to believe things would work out in the long run. I really, really needed that! It seemed if only someone in this world would not be forbidding of my need for them I could let go of the need. I could quit fighting for my rights if only someone would give me some.

She was the first to formally diagnose my condition as Dissociative Identity Disorder, and the first to make sense of it and understand my experience as I felt it to be.

I came to love and trust Dr. James so much that some of the memories in early childhood began to emerge. I began to recall that I really did love my mother very much. And I really did grow to adore Aunt Crea during the year she took me to the farm after my mother's death. I even remembered, for the first time, Kit and Thunder, the work horse team that I recalled as way up high above me (as seen by a two year old). My memory was never adjusted by recalling the picture as a growing person. Yet, I also became aware of the sense of loss of both my mother and my aunt who took her place in my heart. I began to feel the sadness and deep grief that had so long been isolated like a hideous cancer at the deepest core inside. I became aware that I had never in my whole life known a moment of love without grief and terror fast on its heels. 

My new assignment was now to separate love from grief, so maybe there would be a chance for love to flow in a normal way. It wasn't easy to deal with the grief, as it came up just as it was in infancy and early childhood, as overwhelming and unsolvable. I had to learn how to talk to it, how to show the child there are ways and means now. And it also had to run its course, to get purged out of the system, to shrink the "cancer" that it had become to the unconscious.

With my knowledge about combating fear with anger, I also applied the anger defense to the grief, when it became too rough to endure.  The grief would just arise out of nowhere, just as the panic fear had done before, in therapy past. I would reason with it, deal with it, learn about it, then have to beat it down by working up red-faced anger over the meanness done to me.. done to the child. I would do that to get a night's sleep, or be able to stay at work. But then would allow it back to be dealt with some more. I was a pro at this kind of work by now. So, it went on for about seven or eight months before it was washed out.  

But, working with grief has a different set of feelings than fear.  Losing someone irrevocably, either by death or by rejection, is the hardest thing of all to deal with - that is for sure! And you even hate the idea of "learning techniques" The worst I've heard of yet is the "Twelve Steps to Dealing with Grief!" Like its nothing but learning to quit smoking or gambling, or something like that, as if the presence of a special friend, relative, or loved one weren’t even involved in the equation. You don't even want anything to work...you don't want to "get over it". You only want your special person back. That's the only thing that feels like it will help, ever.

So, it's hard to say any of this I have to say about grief, and dealing with it, as I realize I may be talking to someone who is in the midst of it. So, fellow traveler, you don't need to take any of this too seriously, as I'm not trying to offer any pat answers. I'm just saying what I did and how I did it if any of it can be of slightest benefit to anyone, if just to get through the present hour, or day.

It actually is a sign of good character when we feel that no one else will do but that one we love and find so unique. For some have been so seared that they never again will become attached to any one person in life. They are the fickle and heartless that can sail blithely through one person after another without a qualm. And you know what the whole world thinks about them. But when you really love someone it seems nothing is worth anything at all if it can't bring your loved one back. It usually hurts worse to keep on thinking about them or try to carry them in imagination only. It doesn't do for people to say you still have them with you when they are only in your mind. So, it hurts to keep remembering them, and it hurts to try to forget them.

I began to realize that there sort of has to be a juggling of both ways, according to what seems tolerable for the moment. For you can feel you're drowning in grief and will have to die yourself to get relief. And then you are facing the trauma of your own death as well as the death of another. But I alternated with allowing my grief and then covering it over with all out anger. I would have to rev up some major toughness to back the grief off long enough to stay sane. It also helped to promise I would return to the grief when I got some strength back in a few hours, strange as that sounds, as pushing away grief is the same as pushing away the significance of your loved person.

I know it's different dealing with an old grief than a present one. So, I had a distinct advantage in that. The child in me had to learn that things are different now. She won't starve to death, or freeze, or thirst to death, or even have to keep feeling touching-hunger. She now has me to provide, with the money I earn. I can wrap us up in a blanket and make the body feel good. We have Farly to help with the touching part, too. I would actually stroke my own face, or pat my own shoulder, so the child inside could feel it. So, all that had a cumulative effect. So, I felt my way, and tried this or that with the feelings, as I needed to...again not saying it's easy.

Somehow, along the stormy way, you build a sort of raft that holds you up over the rough seas. By staying closely tuned in to my inner promptings I learned to follow an alternation of emotions between love, grief, fear, and anger. I would allow the fear and need, then force them away, then allow them again. After some months of doing that I would realize the peaks and depths smoothed down some. It's like practice at skiing lets you go a long way without falling so hard. This was even though I had that most implacable feeling that nothing in the way of compromise or substitution would ever be the slightest bit accepted. But my distaste for feeling bad, along with my desire to stay up with the world, prodded me to deal with it. And my failing efforts didn't fail in the long run.

In my case, I knew that it was a grief I should and would get over, as it was an old complex trapped in my unconscious that need to be healed. It did subside gradually over a period of months, rather than years. I realized I felt it via the transference to Dr. James. I felt it for her as if it really were, yet knew it really wasn't for her, but for "significant others" in the early years. I realized I needed to go through this to be fully well. And I began to feel the reward from it. I began to settle into a sense of real, deep, emotional strength. I felt God working in me there also, to actualize what I was attempting to do. I had learned that I could try and try, and must try, but I alone could not make it work. I would do my best, but He would make it so when I asked Him to, in earnest specific request.

Though I had become strong already, I now realized a new solidness to it. As trials came along I got to know it well. As I said before, I used to hope God would spare me the trials of life, as I felt too weak to cope. Now, I came to realize that having the healing power of God made me more able to face trial. Of course, I don't want hassle or trouble in life, but I go through it better than I thought.

To be real, I had defaulted on a major credit card, due to my divorce and injury by the horse. A few years later, I was dragged into court over it. It didn't feel as if I had been hit by a train. I got on the computer and found out what my rights were. I went prepared. I made a deal, as I had not passed the statute of limitations. I had the problem but not the stress. Another thing that happened is I got booted out of a good job unfairly by a vindictive boss who accused me of stealing. I defended myself, but didn't get in an obsession over it. I called a special meeting to state my case with him and his boss. But I let it go. I got a better job. I went through Farly's surgery and found out I could do without sex a whole lot longer than I thought. Things inside just settled down.

After I had seen Dr. James for about a year, the transference began to fade. The child inside came back into me more and was happy there. I felt comfortable in reducing the sessions to every two weeks. Then some months later began to cancel appointments to use the money for something else I preferred, like art supplies, or a horse book I wanted, or some place I wanted to go that weekend. I felt I had arrived. I felt great about it. That was the way it's supposed to be, I felt.

Eventually Dr. James and I informally decided not to have scheduled appointments, but I was free to see her any time something came up. Eventually I lost track of her. So, life goes on, and I now live just the same as a million other people...  working, owning a house and car, taking care of my health, having friends and a companion in life, doing my hobbies, having some fun, keeping up with the world. I don't have the horses, but maybe will some day. I was able to finish my art pieces, and put them up on a website. I fulfilled a promise to God that I would write my story and offer it to others who are searching. I have been free of symptoms for over fifteen years now, so feel I can say something people can rely on. 

So, this is the end of the account of my Dark Forest Journey. If only I could have read something like this by one who has "been there" it would have at least offered some hope and a direction. So, that is why I have written, in the hope that someone else who sees their situation similar, may have some benefit from someone who has tread the path before.

Copyright © Restin Wells

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