Acceptance of the Self

Book 1: Attunement of the Hearts

Chapter 10.? - A Rude Awakening

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[ - Saturday Sept. 07 2019, 1pm, Dawn's house - ]

 

 

I feel very strange.

 

I’m sitting at Dawn’s kitchen table with my hands clasped in my lap, staring with a furrowed brow at a now-cold puddle of syrup on my plate. I feel groggy, like I’ve just blearily crawled out of bed. I keep still as I try to make sense of myself. 

 

What time is it? I vaguely remember cooking and eating waffles with Dawn, I think? But it’s difficult to recall the details. Now she’s sitting at the head of the table to my left, and I find I feel a confusing bundle of anxieties when I think about her. Primarily I’m worried about not leaving her, though I’m not sure where I’d be leaving to. It’s a strange anxiety, and I try to let it go as best I can. We’re just sitting beside each other, plates empty and the both of us silent as the grave. There’s no apparent danger that could take me away from here.

 

Satisfied that I’m not in immediate danger, I turn my head to look at my friend, and find her watching me with a curious expression. It seems like she wants to say something, maybe? But she’s holding her tongue, watching me like I’m some new boss battle she needs to learn the moves to. 

 

I hold her gaze for a few moments, feeling at a loss. I barely remember what I was doing just before this, if anything. Had we been talking? I can’t recall if we were in the middle of a conversation or if we broke off into this silence naturally. And in the end I decide it doesn’t matter, I can’t take the quiet any longer.

 

“So, ah, what’s up?” I ask. 

 

Dawn starts, and then seems a bit confused by my question. “Uh, I’m just standing by, and wondering if you’re done or not? It’s only been three minutes,” she replies, flashing her phone screen at me. On it is a timer that reads 00:03:06.

 

Done? Done with what? Seeing the timer jogs a tiny flash of memory: myself asking Dawn to set it as I prepare to... do something. I think I was trying to reach out to Anne for some reason? No idea why though. Have I even told Dawn about Anne yet?

 

I take a breath, and sweep a hand back through my hair. My heartbeat picks up as a bit of anxiety seeps into my system. I hate being confused like this. 

 

“I uh, feel pretty out of it right now,” I admit, nervously, “I’m not really sure what we were just doing.”

 

I feel like she knows about my delusions and hallucinations, but at the same time there’s no clear memory of me telling her. I think we talked this morning about something important, but trying to recall details is sorta like trying to force myself to look at a bright light. It’s not painful, but it’s difficult and taxing. I feel like I’d been sleeping in another room while the conversation happened outside my door, and I only caught bits and pieces of it. 

 

Dawn’s looking at me with what can best be described as confused compassion. “I... see,” she says. “Well, we were going to talk more about your experiences with Anne, and then you got real quiet and said Anne was ‘happening’... I kinda figured you were having another vision or something?”

 

As she speaks, I start to recall the scene she’s describing: sitting in this chair, feeling my gratitude towards Dawn being echoed somewhere distantly in my thoughts. I remember feeling absolutely determined to reach out to Anne and start getting some answers. But why the hell would I want to do that? Anne’s an imaginary voice in my head, there’s not much she can do to help me heal from this psychosis.

 

I wait a beat, but there’s no push-back against that thought. My frown deepens. Before, I remember feeling almost defensive of the idea that something truly extraordinary was happening to me. Part of me had been convinced there was more to this than mental illness, that I actually possibly maybe wasn’t delusional and that Anne really did exist. There’d been a lot of denouncing any comment that dared to speak out against the fantasy. Now I’m almost completely devoid of that childish hope.

 

“This is, uh, really weird,” I say, pushing past my confusion, “I kinda remember that happening, but it’s really vague. I think I was feeling really grateful to you for supporting me, and that got kinda reflected by whatever part of my mind is ‘connected’ to Anne. At least that’s how I interpreted the feelings. No idea what happened between then and now though. What were we doing before I tried to ‘reach out’ to Anne?”

 

Dawn considers this. Then she says, “We were just starting to talk more about Anne and her effects on you. You told me you were really scared to talk about this stuff, but you were also feeling better about letting me in on it than you had been when keeping it all bottled up. Does that still feel true?” she asks.

 

I purse my lips, considering my current emotions. A little scared and a lot confused, but very happy to have Dawn to talk to about it. “Yeah,” I say honestly, “knowing I'm not alone with all the crazy shit happening to me is definitely a step up from the past few days. I really appreciate you listening to my experiences.”

 

Dawn seems happy to hear this. “I’m glad,” she says with a smile, and then adds, “I also told you that, though I have no idea what’s going on anymore than you do, I genuinely want to help you and am grateful you’re telling me about this. I’m here for you no matter what.”

 

She’s giving me a sincere look of compassion during this, and I feel at a loss for words. 

 

I remember her saying this upstairs, now. It still blows me away. No one’s ever been there for me the way that Dawn has. She’s always had my back, always been there for me to vent to, no matter whether it’s about my parents, or school, or just whatever’s on my mind. Normally I’d probably hug her or something? But just now I don’t know what to do. I feel awkward, exposed. Deeply grateful and deeply uncomfortable.

 

“Th-thanks,” I say, trying to communicate eighteen metric tons of gratitude through words alone, “seriously, you don’t know how much that means to me. You’re, you’re an incredible friend.”

 

The thankfulness is surging through my system, and I half expect to feel some stirrings from other parts of my mind. Is that an echo from Anne? Or maybe a connection to wherever the rest of my mind is hiding? 

 

But no, there’s nothing as strong and clear as the delusions I’ve been dealing with up till now. I feel my emotions spike as normal: my eyes get a little teary, my throat closes up a bit, and then the feelings dissipate to a more stable level and I’m able to blurt out: “Thank you so so much.”

 

But in the back of my mind I feel genuine worry. What’s happening to me?

 

Dawn has already pushed her chair back and come halfway around the table before I come to my senses. She steps forward and hugs me, and I hug her back, hard. She gently rubs my back, and we stay like that for a comforting moment. 

 

“Of course,” she says quietly, “we’ll figure this out, together.”

 

A few tears trace down my cheeks, and I squeeze just a little tighter in answer, not trusting myself to speak.  

 

The hug lasts for at least a minute or two, before I pull away a little and we step back and regard each other. 

 

“Thanks, I uh, needed that,” I say. A bit of warmth has risen to my cheeks.

 

“No problem, you deserve all the hugs,” she replies with a knowing smile. Her cheeks are also a bit rosy, though.

 

I find I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I hook my thumbs into my pockets and try to distract myself from how close we are right now. “So uh, what should we do now?” I ask.

 

Dawn tilts her head a little, considering the question. “Well, before we were interrupted by the Anne thing, we were planning to go over what’s been happening to you so far,” she replies, “I was hoping going over it all together might help us figure out if anything doesn’t add up, or if there’s any possible explanations for it. Do you still want to do that?” 

 

My eyebrows rise as she talks, and I feel myself get just a teeny bit excited about her proposal. “I would absolutely love that,” I reply, “I haven’t sat down and gone over it all yet myself. It’ll probably make whatever’s going on a lot clearer.”

 

Dawn nods, then turns to survey the rest of the kitchen. “Alrighty then, let me go get us some paper and pencils to jot stuff down with. Sound good?”

 

“Perfect!” I exclaim.

 

---

 

I end up doing a bit of cleaning while Dawn gets out the writing supplies, and I find myself dwelling upon all the strange changes my mind seems to have gone through as I take our dishes to the sink and run them under warm water. I’m hallucinating, holding on to delusions, and now losing memory, or maybe changing personality? Something is definitely different about my emotions and anxieties from this morning, and I don’t like it. It’s like the part of me that believed in magic has just gone missing. 

 

Dawn sets down a stack of paper on the dining table, and the noise brings me back to the present: standing before the kitchen sink with two rinsed plates in my hands. I kneel and start loading the dishes into the washer, thinking hard about how much my life has changed over the past four days. I haven’t been able to trust my perception of the world around me for nearly a week, and now I can’t even trust that my sense of self is unaffected by whatever the hell’s going on with my head. This sucks, I don’t want to be psychotic! 

 

Without any faith that my visions are real, crazy is the only conclusion I have left. And yet, I find myself uneasy about that line of thinking. Logically it’s the only thing that makes any sense, but I find I can’t 100% rule out the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there’s something stranger going on. 

 

It’s nowhere near as strong a feeling as the almost-optimism I felt before about Anne being real, but it brings me some comfort to know that even now I’m not totally at odds with that side of myself.

 

There’s a rattle as Dawn grabs a big cup full of pens and pencils off the kitchen counter to my right, and it brings me back to my senses. I stand and close the front-loading dishwasher’s door with a whumpf, beginning to think about what to do next. I hear Dawn’s chair scrape back as she sets the writing implements on the table and sits. 

 

I wonder briefly if I should just ask her to take me to the hospital, if this is life threatening it makes sense to get looked at by a professional as soon as possible. But I find I can’t quite bring myself to do it. There’s no harm in talking to Dawn about it for just a little while, right?

 

There’s the soft scratching of pen on paper as my friend scribbles out some preliminary notes behind me. I turn and catch a glimpse of what she’s written so far on the first sheet of lined notebook paper as I walk back to the sink:

 

E and Anne Notes
Sept. 7, 2019

E felt Anne at table this morning, went quiet for few minutes, then came to and did not remember feeling Anne.

 

Seeing her refer to me as ‘E’ feels... weird. I remember asking for the name yesterday as a placeholder until I find a new one, but now it feels off. It doesn’t fit me right; I’m not the same person I was yesterday. ‘Erick’ feels even less appealing as a name, though, so I guess I’ll stick with the letter for now. I really need to come up with a better name ASAP.

 

“E,” Dawn says, cutting through my thoughts, “Can you describe in any detail for me what you felt, the first time this Anne stuff happened, after D and D? You said it sounded like an angry crowd?”

 

I consider this as I grab a rag and start rinsing it with warm water and soap, and find I can recall that night pretty well for the most part. 

 

"Yeah," I say slowly, squeezing extra water out of the rag. "They were shouting and jeering in a language I couldn’t understand. At the time I didn’t recognize it, but I have vague knowledge of Anne's ‘native language’ now, and I think even that first hallucination was using something like it. She called the language, uh, Amara... Amaranthian? Or something?” I hazard. 

 

Dawn lets out a whistle from the table, and I wince slightly at the noise. 

 

“A whole ‘nother language, huh?” she asks, “That’s definitely something to look into.”

 

I shrug a bit, shuffling over to the counter near the stove and beginning to wipe up our mess of dried batter spills. “Yeah that’s a good point,” I answer, “I haven’t really questioned it up till this point, there’s been so much other crap going on in these hallucinations.”

 

“Oh of course,” Dawn says kindly, “you’ve been going through so fucking much.”

 

“You speak the truth,” I reply wryly, “but anyway, about that first night...”  

 

I close my eyes for a moment: remembering as best I can. “I felt like I was standing in the middle of a ring of people. Like I said, I couldn’t make any sense of what they were saying, but I still got the distinct impression they were cheering against me. In other hallucinations, I’ve experienced what seems to be Anne’s ‘emotions’ accompanying the physical sensations, so I’m guessing I picked up my wariness from what she was feeling at the time.”

 

I busy myself with wiping up spilled batter from the counter, trying to find the words for what I want to say next. I’m doing my best to relay all this stuff as accurately as I can recall it, even though it pains me slightly to recall all these details myself. It sounds so much like random nonsense to me, like it has to be fantasy, right? Anne can’t actually be a person in my head with a body and mind separate from my own. And yet, though it’s quiet, there’s still a part of me that wonders. I keep going.

 

“The sensations in these visions are generally hazy, and the first one was barely anything more than the voices” I say, “I don’t remember anything super out of the ordinary aside from the crowd and the feeling of being persecuted.” 

 

Dawn is writing furiously as I talk. I’ve finished wiping the counter, and now turn my attention to the batter-encrusted waffle maker. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong with me. These memories feel distant, almost like they happened to someone else. My mind feels different, there’s some kind of emptiness, or... loneliness, maybe.

 

“Okay, so,” Dawn says after a few moments, breaking through my troubled thoughts, “I have about a billion questions. Number one: Anne speaks a different language?”

 

Something about the way she asks it, half incredulous and half excited, makes me cringe a little inside. I really wish I still had that kind of enthusiasm for this. I think about her question as I finish wiping down the waffle maker and move back to the sink to rinse out the rag. 

 

“Yeah, that’s what she claims at least,” I say doubtfully, “I don’t know any of it off the top of my head. But when I’m, uh, actively talking to her - er, hallucinating her or whatever - I can understand it as well as she can, and vice versa for her and english. Again though, that’s just what she claims. It's probably total nonsense.”

 

Even to my own ears I sound dejected. Why do I feel like this? What the hell happened earlier to take away part of my self? 

 

When I finish squeezing out the rag I turn and catch sight of Dawn for a moment. She’s looking right at me with a troubled expression. I turn back quickly, embarrassed at how easy I apparently am to read, but I can still feel her eyes on my back. 

 

“Hey...” she says a little softer, “are you okay?”

 

My shoulders slump. I carefully drape the rag over the arch of the faucet head, trying to figure out how to answer that.

 

“Um, not really,” I say, “whatever happened when you set that timer... it changed me? I don’t know how or why, and it’s scary as hell. I feel like... like I’m losing myself.” 

 

Dawn makes a soft ‘Ooo’ing sound of concern. 

 

“Shit E,” she says quietly, “I’m really sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it? Maybe you can you tell me what’s different?”

 

I sigh heavily, and turn to lean my butt against the counter. I fold my arms, and avoid meeting her eyes, preferring to look at the chair between us on the closer side of the table instead. 

 

"I guess I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself?” I say, almost more to myself than to her. “Before, I remember feeling really differently about these visions - this psychosis. I was actually considering whether it could be real somehow? But ever since I ‘reached out to Anne’ or whatever, back at the table, I’ve felt nothing but doubt. Magic can’t be real, y’know? I must be losing my marbles or something, there’s no other plausible explanation. But I know I didn’t used to think like that, and that worries me a lot.”

 

I finally look up at Dawn, and find her looking intrigued and worried. Her golden eyes are filled with compassion, and it’s comforting, but the fear and uncertainty continue to eat away at me.

 

“Do you think trying to reach out to Anne again might help?” she asks, “Or are you afraid it’ll make it worse?”

 

I shake my head and break eye contact to look up at the ceiling. “I don’t know what to think. I can’t even feel anything from Anne right now, not since that last time. It might be a really bad idea to try focusing on her again, but I mean that's kinda the only lead I have right now for whatever happened to me.”

 

I close my eyes, trying more pointedly to remember what it felt like when Anne’s emotions leaked through to me. There’s little bits and pieces of memory there, and as I pull at them I find I can get more context.

 

"If there's anything I can do to help just say the word," Dawn says seriously.

 

I give her a weak smile. "I guess if I wake up all confused again, bring me up to speed and maybe don't let me try this again."

 

Dawn hums in affirmation, and then the silence stretches between us. 

 

I work on centering myself, evening out my breathing and calming my mind. Honestly it’s nice to just exist for a moment.

 

I continue focusing on my memories of Anne, on what it felt like when she connected to me. It was kind of like an echo in my mind, I think? Like I’d feel more of a specific emotion than I expected to, or I’d suddenly start to feel something new that hadn’t lined up with what I’d been feeling seconds before for no discernible reason.

 

Either way, it’d felt really weird, and there doesn’t seem to be any trace of it now. No emotions, no unexplainable sensations, nothing.

 

I keep trying for a few more minutes, then let out a tired sigh. This is stupid and pointless. I should just go to a psychologist or get an MRI scan or whatever.

 

Of course it’s as I’m standing there, bemoaning this waste of time, that I suddenly do feel something strange. Something completely new. It’s like a breath of fresh air flowing into my thoughts, like a doorway opening up all by itself. I freeze mentally and physically, focusing. From that strange doorway in the back of my mind comes a trickle of feelings that I seem to have no control over. There’s bits of anxiety and relief, dread and confusion, familiarity and alienness. And then a full-fledged thought:

 

Woah, what’s going on? 

 

It just pops into my head of its own accord, confusion and wariness coating it like syrup on a waffle. 

 

My feeling of calm shatters as more alien emotions pour in, and I find a blooming cloud of anger rapidly taking its place.

 

What’s going on?  I think back sharply, You have the audacity to ask ME what’s going on? 

 

I feel a different presence trying to push feelings of calm towards me, but I’m way too worked up to allow that. I’m so done with being out of control of my own mind. I focus on keeping myself together, coherent while these new feelings and identities wash around me.

 

We mean you no harm, the third presence says, and some combination of the way it’s worded, the emotions behind it, and the intention put into it makes me recognize it as Anne’s thought-voice.

 

Who ARE you? asks the unidentified presence a split second later, emotions of surprise and uncertainty tainting their words. I recognize them of course; I'd recognized them the moment they returned. All the pieces of weirdness come together in my mind, painting a picture that makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time. 

 

Oh my fucking Gods, I think-say to no one in particular, I really am diagnosably crazy. You’re part of me, aren’t you? We’re E. 

 

That gives them pause, and I feel Anne withdraw a little, keeping to herself on the outskirts of my mind. I feel extremely defensive of my thought-space just then, so I appreciate the gesture. The other-me isn’t so quick on the uptake.

 

What? they - or probably more accurately she - asks, What do you mean?

 

There’s a tendril of concern that reaches out from Anne to the other girl, and I catch the message she’s conveying: I should have suspected this. When you came to my system, you left your own. This person must have taken over for you once you were gone.

 

There’s a beat of quiet. I feel morbidly satisfied that the bizarrest part of my mind agrees with what I’d suspected. Though of course she does, she's the one that told us about this crap in the first place.

 

You mean I’m like you? the other-me asks, Plural, or whatever?

 

I take a deep breath, doing my best to separate myself from the confusion the other-me is radiating outward. Yes, and please calm down, I think irritably, I need to let Dawn know what’s going on.

 

I open my eyes, and feel the confusion spike sharply as other-me recognizes that we’re no longer sitting in the chair she left us in. 

 

Dawn’s got a concerned look on her face, and I realize I’m scowling. I rub my face with my hands and do my best to lighten up a bit. I sense Anne and the other conversing at the edges of my mind, but I pay them no heed.

 

“Hey,” I say to Dawn, ignoring the protests from other-me about using her mouth, “I think I figured out what happened, maybe. The other part of me just came back, and brought Anne with her.”

 

I’m sorry we left you here alone, Anne thinks quietly at me.

 

I don’t respond, but I do feel slightly placated.

 

Um, I’m also sorry, other-me adds, I had no idea this would happen.

 

“Well, shit,” Dawn’s saying, “that sounds like a good thing?”

 

Whatever, it happened, I think back, trying my best to remain level-headed, Dawn was just taking notes about all this, at least with you and Anne here that’ll be easier.

 

In reality I shrug and give her a wiggly hand gesture. “It’s weird as fuck.”

 

We came back with the intention of talking to Dawn about all that’s happened, Anne muses, so that works out well.

 

We’re going to need new names, other-me says, I don’t even know what pronouns you prefer.

 

My irritation spikes again. I put my hands together in front of my chest like I'm praying, and take another deep breath. They both seem to sense my need for quiet, so for a few blissful moments I’m free to consider my options and make some decisions.

 

“Okay,” I announce, both to Dawn and to my head-people, “I’m going to take a back seat now. The other me will take charge, she and Anne want to talk to you about everything going on with all this. I’m pretty positive that I’ve got some sort of personality disorder at this point, but I don’t know if Anne’s just another part of that or if she’s something altogether different. I’ll let you all figure that out.”

 

Dawn holds my gaze steadily as I talk, and when I’m finished she’s nodding. “Okay, well, it was really nice talking to you,” she says, and then hesitates. “Uh, do you have a different name you want me to use or anything?”

 

I sigh. I’d been hoping to figure that out while they all talked. But I suppose I may as well give a temporary name again. “I guess you can call me not-E for now, I’ll come up with a name I like later. I don’t know about pronouns, I guess she/her is good for now.”

 

Hey you can be E if you want! other-me thinks immediately. 

 

I do the equivalent of a mental scoff. I don’t want to be E, take it if you like it, I say.

 

That seems to give her pause, and I can almost feel her reevaluating her perception of me. Viewing me as a truly separate part of her.

 

O-kay, she replies a moment later, I guess I’m E then, for now.

 

“Well, not-E,” Dawn says, “thanks for cleaning up breakfast.”

 

She says it with a sincerity that gives me a really warm, pleasant feeling of usefulness. 

 

“You’re very welcome,” I say with a smile, and then I focus my attention inwards.

 

Okay, how do we make this switcheroo happen? I ask, figuring one of the other two must have some idea by now. 

 

Uh, Anne? E asks nervously.

 

Both of you try to relax, Anne says calmly, there’s many ways to envision the process of switching. We can keep it simple for now. Not-E, do everything you can to feel yourself stepping backwards, away from your body, without actually moving a muscle. And E, you’ll want to imagine yourself filling up the space not-E is leaving. Since you’re used to being the ‘front’ person in this body, it should be fairly natural. If you want a visual aid, maybe try to imagine yourself mentally stepping into your body?

 

I feel my eyebrows rising as she thinks all this at us. This does not seem like a very coherent process by any stretch of the imagination. How am I supposed to stay out of the body? I’m not even sure I can imagine what that kind of existence is like.

 

But I’m also really done with being the go-between for these two and Dawn, so what the hell, I’ll give it a try. I’ll keep an eye on them and make sure they respect Dawn’s time and feelings - she is maybe coming out to her family today after all - but I’ll do it from the background. I give Dawn a wry smile, and then close my eyes. 

 

I quickly realize ‘taking a step back’ from my body is a lot easier said than done. I do my best to focus on the feeling of stepping backward, basically imagining my kinesthetic sense moving away from my physical form and taking the rest of me with it. But it doesn’t stick, I snap back to myself almost immediately. I try twice more, and I feel E trying to squeeze past me every time I give her space. But I don’t know where she’s trying to squeeze in to, and I can’t conceptualize where I’m trying to go.

 

Okay, I think, any more specific advice, Anne?

 

Maybe try visualizing something to represent being in control of the body? We have a sword we pass around, she replies.

 

How about you step back and like, hold the door open for me? E suggests. 

 

Internally I roll my eyes, but I give it a shot. I imagine myself stepping backward, but this time I keep one of my ‘hands’ still connected to the body like a tether. 

 

Right this way m’lady, I say sardonically, sort of pushing the feeling of my tethered hand towards her. 

 

To my surprise, I actually feel E lay her imaginary hand on mine, and step forward. It’s nowhere near a smooth transition though, because I snap back into the body, and into her, a second later. And then everything gets really muddled. And confusing. I open my eyes, startled, and feel my thoughts getting tangled with hers, each of us trying to correct this mistake.

 

I need to leave my body! Or no, I need to enter my body? In mere moments, the boundaries separating ‘me’ from ‘her’ have blurred into nothing. 

 

End of

Chapter 10 - A Rude Awakening