[written on Friday, August 26, 2011. reposted because it still remains a favorite.]
Tragedy strikes.
As it always does.
No need to be alarmed, Sammie is used to this.
No need to cry. No need to call anyone.
This happens daily.
Tragedy stikes so often in fact, that Sammie has decided to let Sam take over.
Over the years, Sam had asked to fill in for her.
Sammie had told Sam "no"; she was capable of figuring things out on her own back then.
After the trauma, Sammie was still the Sammie everyone had gotten to know and love. Sammie was still creative. Sammie was still a writer. Sammie was still too loud in public places, and Sammie had still had boyfriends.
Despite the bruises and the cuts, everything was all right - physically speaking.
Despite and increase of anxiety and the development of PTSD and insomnia, everything seemed somewhat normal to the doctors.
"She was supposed to heal this way." Psychologically speaking.
You plan to ask Sammie how she's 'holding up' as soon as you get a chance to see her.
3 days since the incident.
You ask her how she's feeling.
Sammie tells you that she's fine.
You ask her if she wants to go see a movie with you later. (your attempt to help her keep her mind off of things).
Sammie seems excited to go.
'Is she nervous at all?' you ask yourself.
The grin and dorky laughs ensure you that Sammie is fine.
You two are on your way to the theater.
You decide to take a risk and ask her what had happened.
You question the bruises.
The chunks of missing hair.
The cuts.
You ask what he had done to her.
You even feel as if you could use his name.
You two are close; you view yourself as her confidant.
Sam answers and tells you that everything is fine.
Her voice is an octave deeper and she avoids eye contact.
Her whole demeanor changes.
She isn't as 'bubbly' as she was a minute ago.
She hardly even catches your jokes.
That's because you're talking to Sam now.
Unknowingly, you are speaking to an entirely different person.
You cant treat her the same way as you do Sammie.
Sam holds her pen a different way.
Sam's handwriting is clearly distinguishable from that of Sammie's.
Sam likes different foods.
Sam watches different movies.
Sam is a different personality.
Your movie plans change because 'Sammie' had changed her mind and didn't want to see the movie the two of you planned on watching.
Although Sammie was excited to see that movie; she had been waiting for ages to go with you - you had taken Sam.
Sam didn't want to see that movie.
And when Sam is in control, it is what Sam wants.
They could trade back: let Sammie go see the movie with you and have Sam take the backseat.
But Sam doesn't like that either. Sam doesn't like to be used.
So when Sam is in control, Sam tries to get the best out of things.
So the two of you go to dinner instead.
Sammie is usually in control. And no, Sam isn't a parasite.
Sam does Sammie favors.
When tragedy strikes,
As it always does.
Sam takes control and lets Sammie hide.
They're a team.
With Sam, Sammie no longer has to deal with the tragedies and traumas that life plans on throwing her way. She has a safteynet: Sam.
So in therapy, Sammie is congratulated on a speedy recovery.
The therapist was able to get the facts she requested.
Heard the rapists name from the victim's mouth (a part of healing, they were told).
Sammie's therapy sessions are reduced to twice a month rather than twice a week.
All thanks to Sam.
Sammie is in denial that anything had ever happened.
When presented with questions such as "Where did he touch you." or confirmations such as "He took you to his room, correct?"
Sammie had no idea how to answer.
Not because she was afraid.
But because she had no recollection of what had happened.
Sammie was never raped.
When in therapy, Sam takes over.
Sam remembers the facts.
And since Sam is tough, she tells the therapist what had happened.
Although she struggles, she clearly explains the series of events with as much detail as the therapist requests.
Although its tough and tears begin to swell, the therapist is proud.
The victim is healing.
You are almost to the restaurant.
You are asked to turn back around.
"Lets go bowling!" Sammie suggests.
Sam is gone.
Sammie is rarely hungry.
She doesn't want dinner.
Do you get it?
Of course not. Sammie isn't even aware.
Sam has become so automatic, Sammie doesn't think anything of it.
Her decisions change almost instantly - she calls herself indecisive.
Her views on current events or drama at school change - she calls herself wishywashy.
She falls out of love at a blink of an eye - she decides that she isn't 'relationship material'.
She isn't aware that she isn't always Sammie.
When she reads this later on, its fiction.
If she gets praised for her creativity and imagination, she takes it; the plot of this entry is pretty far fetched indeed.
Then how is this being written?
Am I Sam?
No. I am the third in this group.
Just the 'Narrator' - thats whats Sam calls me.
I am neither Sammie or Sam.
I allow things to be written for her.
I research Split Personality Disorder for my dear Sammie when I have the control.
I look for help for her.
I am called the Narrator, for I document this phenomena.
But I look out for Sammie and take over when neither Sam nor Sammie can handle the drama in the environment.
Perhaps I am a hero? Pashaaww.
Caregiver? Sure.
You're there reading this. And you think I'm crazy.
Im not.
Sam's not.
But perhaps Sammie is.
But name one "sane" writer. One "sane" artist.
There aren't many names to choose from, are there?
This is my first entry.
Sammie has written the others.
Sam may have typed a few.
Sammie is the lead. Sammie is the imagination, creativity and the poor girl that had lost her innocence.
Sam and I just try to give that back by providing a hiding place from her often cruel reality.
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