The Hole Within

CHAPTER 38

After being gone for two months Diane welcomed me back with a hug and good (read: bad) news. She was getting married to Austin's father and he had applied at several police stations out of state. I was floored. Immediately I reached into my purse for my pill bottle. In Santa Fe, I had not really been using pills and I had not been drinking at all. For two months, I had been clean (read: almost). Reaching for my pills now was reflexive. I had no way of dealing with this news. Diane winced I quickly dry swallowed four Tylenol 3's though she implored me not to. She told me that we could talk things through. We would find me another therapist, she would not leave me to deal with things by myself. All I could hear was that she would soon be leaving. I did not want another therapist after investing four long years with her. The idea of starting again was too daunting. Most of all I was devastated that this woman who had become my surrogate mom was leaving me for a man. The similarities to my own mother were too great. 

Something inside me broke. All the losses over the years compounded in that moment. I felt as I were being ripped in half. I felt emotional and physical pain. I desperately wanted to die. I felt myself pulling away from Diane. I swallowed down my pain so completely that my stomach ached. I retreated inside of myself and started to build a wall. I would shut myself in, wall myself off from the possibility of getting hurt. I would never allow myself to be that vulnerable again. I would never again lay myself bare. I took all the vulnerable parts of me, all the vulnerable personalities and locked them deep inside of my mind's prison. I know that Diane saw me shutting down. She wanted me to talk about my feelings. Diane tried to reach out to me, tried to bring me into her arms. That was the last thing I wanted. That was the only thing I wanted. Kandy came out and pushed her away. Kandy let loose our rage at her. The rage of a six-year-old being left at strangers' house while her mom went away. Rage at the friends who abandoned her. Rage at a best friend who betrayed her. Rage at a best friend who could not give her heart to her. Mostly, rage at a mother who could not love her enough to make her safe. Diane sat through it silently crying as Kandy vented twenty-four years of rage.

Our sessions became shorter as I refused to talk or would show up too high. She wanted to talk to my other personalities, she wanted to tell them personally. The only one she ended up talking with was Kandy. My sessions became Kandy's sessions of working through her anger. Diane wanted Kandy's cooperation to keep me safe from myself. I have little memory of those last months with Diane, mostly because I was too wasted or not present. I see pictures of the pain in her face as I refused to let her touch me.

Finally, the day came. Our last session. My feelings numbed by narcotics I blankly asked her for all the audio tapes she had made of our sessions. I had learned my lesson with Wes. She was visibly hurt that I might think she would exploit me like that. Unmoved, I insisted that she give them to me. Her eyes filled with tears as she dumped out a box of business cards and refilled it with the tiny microcassettes. Silently, she held out the box for me to take. As I reached for them she grabbed my hand and pulled me to her. I resisted and she moved closer next to me on the couch. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her. I sat stock still, not moving to return her embrace. She held me like that and begin to cry. The pressure in my head was all-consuming. I let out a dry sob of despair. As she hugged be tighter, the built-up emotions spilled out of me. My chest felt too tight and I could not breathe as I sobbed into her hair. Cries racked my body as all the pain of abandonment surfaced. I did not recognize my own voice as it cried out in anguish. Diane cried with me, rocking me in her arms, smoothing my sweat damp hair, as my soul was laid bare. Diane gently broke away from me, took both my hands in hers and told me she had another appointment, I had been at this for almost an hour. The look of desperation on my face gave her pause. She told me to hold on and she would be right back. As she stepped out of the office I fished out another four pills and took them. My head hurt enough to split. She cancelled the rest of her appointments for the day and came back in and sat on the couch next to me once again gathering me in her arms. I do not know how long I cried in her arms. Her shoulder was soaked with tears, sweat and snot. My crying subsided to occasional hitching sobs as exhaustion and the drugs threatened to engulf me. I finally succumbed and fell asleep laying against her chest. I woke with my head in her lap, her hands stroking my hair. I looked up and saw that she was silently crying. I wanted to comfort her but I had nothing to give. We spent the afternoon with her saying goodbye to each of my personalities, most of the time spent with a four-year-old Alyson. As each said goodbye, I pushed them back behind the wall and locked them in. No one would ever speak to them again. I do not know if they just became a part of me or maybe they were never separate parts at all. With no audience, the voices eventually stopped.

All too quickly the time to say goodbye was there. We embraced and cried some more. I tried to steal myself by making jokes at my own expense. At last, I picked up my box of tapes, slung my purse over my shoulder and left her office for the last time. I write:

We Part –

Memories

Of caring

Supporting

And much

Discovering

New lives

Fresh pathways

We Part –

And I'm

Terrified

I feel alone

I feel abandoned

I'm disconsolate

We Part –