Maya (Book #3)

Chapter 17

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day, only popping out occasionally to get snacks. I avoided Dominic at all costs, horrified by what had happened earlier. I wasn't myself and I didn't know why. I knew whose help I needed but I had to work up the courage to talk to her.

Charlotte let me have dinner in my room, but I texted her to see if she was willing to talk to me afterward. She agreed, so we set a time and waited for the others to head upstairs. When Dominic had finally locked up and gone into his room, I scurried down, flicking on the lights as I went.

 I reached her office and knocked gently before stepping inside.

"Hi," I said, not knowing where to start.

 "Hey!" she said warmly, standing up from her desk to come over to me. She was wearing adark green button-up shirt and jeans, and her hair was pulled back from herface. Little strands fell beside her cheeks as she walked over, but she brushedthem behind her ears as they did. I jumped into the couch seat and grabbed the throw blanket that sat over the back of it. I pressed it over my legs and curled them up beneath me, settling in.

"Do you have a minute?" I asked with a small laugh as she sat down across from me. It was clear that this conversation was going to last well over a single minute, but she assuaged my fears by settling in as well. 

"Of course." She said, sitting down across from me and gesturing for me to speak. 

"I really have no clue how to start this," I admitted with full transparency. "I'm just- well, something happened, and I need your advice because it was weird and... yes."

I gave her a hopeful look and she smiled, somehow finding a way to answer my mess of a sentence.

"I'd love to help in whatever capacity I can. Can I ask what happened?" she said.

I gave a little bob of my head and tried to just spit the words out without overthinking it.

"Today, something weird happened when I was talking to Dominic, and I don't understand it. I need to know how to fix it." I said seriously, giving her a forceful look. I knew she loved to support me and my eccentricities, but I needed an answer.

"So... I was talking to Dom about something that happened last night, and he was asking me about my feelings." I began. She looked slightly proud at her son at that but kept her feelings in check so she could focus. I scratched at my arm absentmindedly, burying it beneath the blanket on my lap so she couldn't ask me to stop.

"And then, when he was asking me about what happened, I felt my mind start to slip," I said, looking down as I explained it. I could feel her focus on my face still.

 "It felt little... Like I was younger than I am, and I couldn't change it. I didn't even think my body felt right because it was too big and tall. It was really weird." I was insanely embarrassed by the words I told her, for reasons I couldn't even understand. She had never judged me or criticized whatever I felt, but this was a new level of strange.

Contrary to my fears, she nodded as if she expected this.

"Have you ever had any other experiences with different personalities taking over?" she asked, confirming my fears. I had heard of multiple personality disorder from movies, and I didn't want that to be me!

"Oh no." I moaned, head in my hands. "Just diagnose me with MPD and let's get this over with." 

To my surprise, she laughed out loud. I looked up, confused.

"What did I say?" I asked curiously. She tended to try not to laugh when I spoke seriously, so this was an amusing turn of events.

"Well, you don't have MPD, and we don't call it that anymore in the psychology community. It's Dissociative Identity Disorder, and I don't think you have it." She said, giving me a knowing look. Although I trusted her more than myself, I questioned her immediately.

"How do you know?" I demanded imperiously, before adding a quieter "Sorry."

"You're alright!" she reassured me. "Have you ever had any other voices in your head or personalities that you feel are taking over?" 

"No," I replied, making what must have looked like an angry face as I really thought about it. It was hard to let go once you had convinced yourself that something was true.

"Have you ever felt time slip away from you? Hours or minutes that went by that you didn't notice?" she asked, brushing hair behind her ear.

"Only when I play Skyrim," I teased, before relenting. "No."

"You don't have dissociative identity disorder," she said at last. "And labels really aren't important here because the media gets it all wrong. It isn't like they portray."

"What's it like?" I asked, wondering how she knew. Maybe some of the other clients who came to talk to her experienced that. Her mouth moved to the side as she tried to think of a good analogy.

"It's like you have a cast of characters in your head, and they all take turns taking the lead." She tried to explain, her words flowing easily as she tried to help me understand.

"Oh! That makes sense. But that's sort of what happened to me! The younger me took over!" I said, worried once more. The panic flew to my mind so quickly sometimes I wondered if anxiety was my natural state. She chuckled, before giving me a look making me ruefully smile. She knew that I was being anxious for no reason and called me out on it. How did people function without therapists? I calmed immediately... somewhat. 

"Yes. You split, in a way," she explained. "Sometimes when we experience trauma in our youth, a part of us does detach from our personality. That part can be younger. It sounds to me like she was formed at the time the abuse started. Do you know what age she is?"

"F-five, maybe?" I answered too quickly, and immediately I knew she was right. I got angry at myself, hating this other characteristic that made me different. "I don't want her here." I moaned, crossing my arms over my chest. Charlotte looked heartbroken at that, and it softened me a little. 

"Nobody wanted her there, then. She didn't want to be there either." Charlotte said in a voice that was nearly a whisper as she looked at me tenderly. "You need to be brave, Maya, like you always are. Stand up for her and let her be herself. I promise nobody in this house will judge you." She said, and she smiled because she knew it was true.

I thought about that with a pang of fear, but realized she was right. Everyone in the Anders family would protect me and love me, no matter what I did, or how I acted.

"You have a lot of good kids," I admitted, smiling up at her. She beamed back warmly and gave me a look that told me she included me in that grouping.

"Thank you," she stated gratefully, eyes flickering to a family photo on her desk. "I think so too."