Too Close for Comfort

Photo Credit: Renato Ulpiano

“Multiple Personality (Dissociative Identity Disorder) should not be confused with alternations of mood from happy to sad characteristic of the cyclic temperament. These are merely emotional swings; personality splits are far more comprehensive.”

~ Ralph Slovenko, Psychiatry and Criminal Culpability

My last two blogs were about my intense emotional experiences in Victoria. This week I’m back at home, settling into my routines, and proofreading the latest edits of The Trials of Alex Anderson from my publisher. I looked through my blog archives, and I haven’t shared a sneak peek for a long time, so today’s blog is a glimpse into my soon-to-release novel. The scene I’ve chosen shows my protagonist, Alex, who has Dissociative Identity Disorder, in session with his therapist, Judy. I hope it catches your interest, dear reader, and would love to hear whatever feedback you’re willing to offer. Here goes….

During my next session with Judy, we talk a little more about good boundaries in an intimate relationship, after I tell her about my decision to shack up with Izzy.

            “It looks like your calendar is full these days, what with work, your exercise and therapy commitments, writing your next book, and being in a serious relationship,” Judy says. “I must say that it’s so rewarding to witness you managing it all so well. I’m really proud of you.”

            “Thanks,” I say. “But I have a love-hate relationship with calendars.” I stop to collect my thoughts, which seem to scatter like so many days that melt into weeks and then months and before you know it, years. Years have gone by since I started seeing Judy, once a week, every week, sometimes more. “I admit, I have made huge, life-changing progress, but I feel frustrated, that I’m still here, still battling, unsuccessfully, to integrate my fragmented personalities. It’s like the final, elusive frontier.”

            “It might seem long to you,” Judy says. “And it has been several years, as you’ve said. But remember, this is really tough work you’re doing. Most people who deal with dissociative identity disorder don’t make the kind of progress you have.”

            “Really?” I say. “Do you have any statistics to back that up?”

            “No,” Judy says. She laughs, that dreamy laugh of hers. “It’s just an observation I’ve made, in my own practice, as well as in conversation with a few of my colleagues. But enough of all that. It sounds like you’re wanting to put the effort in to try and make some headway with integration. Are you up for some EMDR?”

            “Absolutely,” I say. “I’m flying high, in love and rocking my career as a writer. What better time could there be?”

I never have admitted to Judy that I fell off the wagon. I don’t have to tell her everything. Mother’s face appears in my mind, and I realize all of a sudden, with a shock, that Judy could easily pass for a younger version of my mother. I remember the article I read, about client-therapist transference.

            Judy laughs again, pulling me away from my thoughts. I want to jump up from my spot on the recliner, run around the side of her desk, and rip off her clothes. I know, it’s crazy, when I’ve just attested to being in love with Izzy, not to mention noticing Judy’s a look alike for one of the people I despise most in the world. But for me it’s always been like that. Give me a little, and I only want more. And it’s always, always, conflicted.

Fortunately, I’m in such a good mood, even my inner critic can’t bring me down. I settle into relax mode, stretch my legs out on the footrest, and take three, deep cleansing breaths. Judy begins the tapping and counting routine. I feel myself drifting, my brain suddenly engulfed in a dark, dismal fog. I smell the dankness of the forest of trees in the In-between. I hear rustling, the wind blowing through the sharp pine needles, but then it shifts to Alan’s voice whispering something about payback. I hear Alice crying. It sounds so far away, yet crystal clear. I gasp. I see my entire upper body slump forward as I watch from my vantage point up near the ceiling of Judy’s office. When I raise my head and stare out, it isn’t me.

            “Help!” Alice whimpers, so quiet Judy has to lean forward.

            “What’s wrong?” Judy says, her voice like the soothing sound of ocean waves rolling onto the shore.

            “It’s Alex, or, or, maybe Alan,” Alice says. “It’s hard to tell. But he, they, they’re touching her and, and it’s not nice.”

            “Oh?” Judy says. I swear I hear the acid-sharp twang of judgment lacing her words. “Can you tell me what you mean, by not nice?”

            “No,” Alice says firmly. “I don’t know. It’s, it’s, scary. Like they want to hurt her…”

            “It’s okay, Alice,” Judy says. “It’s totally normal that you don’t have the words. You’re a little girl, and little girls aren’t supposed to know about these things. These are adult things. I wonder, do you think you can join Alex in the meeting room? Do you think you can do that?”

            “I, I’m not sure,” Alice says. “I’m scared.”

            All of a sudden, it’s like I’ve been hit by a tidal wave. It feels like I’m rolling around inside it, the salty ocean water in my nostrils. I’m blinded, eyes closed, in total darkness, but I feel the presence of Alan and Alice, tangled up and twisting inside the waves along with me.

            “Alice?” Judy says. She pauses, but I can’t see her anymore, the void of darkness is so complete. “Alex? Alan?”

            Judy’s voice reaches me from far away. I sense that Alan and Alice are aware of her calling out too, but none of us seems able to tumble free of the waves that keep pelting us relentlessly back into the ocean, further and further away.

            “ALEX!” Judy is yelling now. I hear her fear, and the sound triggers memories to bubble up from my childhood, like ghosts risen from the dead to haunt me. I’m scared, but Alice is petrified. I feel at a crossroads. A part of me wants to return and engage, but another, far more compelling part, is luring me deeper out into the ocean and towards a stark, bright light that burns just beyond the horizon, where the ocean meets the sky.

            “Alex, I’m sending you a lifeline now,” Judy says, her voice suddenly calm and collected. “Please, will you reach for it? I’m opening the door now, to the wooden staircase. Do you see it?”

            I look for the staircase, but the water is stinging my eyes, and I can’t see a thing. Everything is a blur of images.

            “I, can’t, see,” I say. My voice sounds like someone talking underwater, all garbled up.

            “Look down,” Judy says. “Look down at your feet and just listen to my voice as I count the stairs. Let my voice guide you.” She pauses, then, “one… two.” Another pause.

            I will myself to gather every ounce of strength I have. I close my eyes tight and force my right leg to lift against the strain of the pressure of the ocean waves I’m engulfed in. I feel the wooden step beneath my foot. I strain and pull and lift my left leg to join it. The waves fall away as my head emerges with a splash. I open my eyes a slit and peer past the crystal-clear turquoise water, the exact same shade as my eyes. I take another step. I look down. I see my New Balance trainers, men’s size ten, conservative grey with white soles. I climb.

            “Oh my God,” Judy says when I open my eyes and look in hers. The tears are still wet on her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

            “A little tired,” I say. My voice sounds like a croaky old toad. “But that was seriously good shit we just did, right? We did some integrating. I felt both of them, more as a part of me.”

            “Yes, Alex, you did some seriously good stuff,” Judy says. “But that was way too close for comfort. I think we need to ease off the integration work, at least for a little while.”

COMING UP…

Books & Projects:

·      In December 2025 I signed a contract with Austin Macauley Publishers for my manuscript, The Trials of Alex Anderson, a character-driven novel that explores the relationship between mental illness and trauma.  I am now on the road to publication, with an expected release date near the end of 2026. In February I worked with designers on the cover and its near completion. Last week I received the proofread manuscript for my review. Things are happening! I’ll be posting regular updates here on  my blog and on social media, so stay tuned for exciting new developments.

·      The Rogue Scorpion is available online at Amazon, Chapters-Indigo, and Barnes & Noble. You can also find it at select Chapters-Indigo and El Hombre de la Mancha bookstores.

Reviews & Interviews:

·      You can read, listen, or watch a large selection of reviews and interviews on my website.

Events:

·      There are no events currently scheduled in my calendar.

YouTube Channel:

·      Watch The Rogue Scorpion trailer.