Chapter 3: Who is in there?

It slowly starts to feel like the Groundhog Day, as I find myself again in Mateo’s office, sitting on that chair.

Mateo: “I’m glad you came back here”

Me: “Yes me too, something very strange happened”

He asks a few questions and I end up telling him that my journal ends up in a sentence that I did not write. And not only that but it is signed Bridget. Which the same name Mateo said I used to sort of re-introduce myself to him when he caught me in school at night.

Mateo: “I’m not a medical professional but I’ve dealt with a lot of mental challenges in my counsellor position in this school.”

Me: “So can you help me?”

Mateo: “I can’t really promise anything but I will do my best. First of all we should find out some information about your alters.”

Me: “My alters?”

Mateo: “Yes that’s what we call the other identities that are in you, if you do in fact have any other ones except for yourself”

Me: “So is Bridget supposed to be one of them?”

Mateo: “That is my best guess for one. She could be the only one and there could be many others”

He continued on to explain about how to identify alters or how to reveal them. There are five methods. Clinical interviews which consists of the same form of question we did last time. Observational techniques, meant to observe changes in behaviour and reacting to them a bit differently than usual. A structured clinical interview but Mateo would be the right person to deliver it, as you would require real medical training. Art therapy, which is showing and discussing different art pieces like paintings, music, videos and discussing them in the hopes of getting through to one of the alters. The final one is journaling, to try to keep track of everything as much as possible, which I already do.

As I said already, from here on out it’s Groundhog Day. Every day in Mateo’s office at least once to try to have a breakthrough. Sometimes he was just hammering the same questions over and over again.

Mateo: “Do you ever feel like there are other parts of you that have their own thoughts, feelings, or memories?”

Mateo: “Have you ever found yourself somewhere without knowing how you got there, or have you found things among your belongings that you don’t remember acquiring?”

Sometimes trying to directly address the alters.

Mateo: “If there’s anyone else here with [Patient’s Name] who wants to talk or share how they’re feeling, I’m here to listen.”

Mateo: “Is there a part of you that feels very different, maybe with its own name or age?”

Other times trying to establish what would be different between me and my alters.

Mateo: “Do you ever feel significantly older or younger than you are?”

Mateo: “Are there times when you feel or act very differently, and it doesn’t quite feel like ‘you’?”

Finally, trying to reconstruct some of my blackouts by going over them over and over again.

None of it really worked. We got absolutely nothing. I didn’t get it. If this is real it has to work. Bridget even mentioned that we have to talk so why, now that I’m trying to get in touch with her would she be playing hide and seek. Our last fairly unexplored theme was art. By that time it almost felt like I spent more time with Mateo than with anyone else.

We started listening to music. First Who Are You? By The Who, I guess a not so subtle question in my situation. Then Message in a Bottle by The Police to try and send our message by our subconscious. Afterwards we got to No-one Knows You When You’re Down and Out by Eric Clapton. We barely started discussing how it means that people only care about you when you’re useful and right there I felt it.

Me - Bridget: “Hey Doc”

Mateo: “I’m actually not a doc but hello to you too”

Me - Bridget: “What? Don’t you recognise me? It’s Bridget”

Mateo: “Oh yes nice to meet you again Bridget”

Me - Bridget: “Well I can’t say the same, do you have any idea how boring you methods are?”

It’s me speaking, but it’s not me speaking. I am still conscious and can see or feel the conversation, I’m not quite sure how to describe it. I can’t really move or intervene in the conversation. It’s like being a spectator to your own life, except you’re not even playing your own life yourself.

Me - Bridget: “What the fuck are those songs about? I’m not using Akira. I’m here to help her and not make a science project out of her like you do”

She was visibly angry about how we tried to get in touch. On the good side she seemed to be only angry with him and not with me. He tried to calm her down multiple times but seemed to only make her angrier.

Me - Bridget: “What do you say we get to the point here?”

Mateo: “What do you think the point is?”

Me - Bridget: “You want to fuck her”

Mateo: “Oh come on, you really miss the mark here. I’m just here to help”

Me - Bridget: “Alright then let me tell you a story. A story I had to hide from Akira because you’re so disgusting. Do you know remember that night you caught me here in the school corridor at night? I was actually coming out of your office. What I wanted to check was your computer to check your notes about us. If you didn’t realise it yet you’re working with all of us not just Akira. But in the end this could not be more boring. You’re so off, it is insane. But you did get on the right track at the end. Anyway ... I thought I might as well just look around. Now what do you say we show Akira the yearbook album from her class you’ve got in here”

I still don’t get everything she’s saying, but I know she’s onto something. I can feel it deep inside that she’s telling the truth about what really happened, and if that wasn’t enough, the face of pure horror that appeared on Mateo’s face when Bridget mentioned the yearbook.

Me - Bridget: “I let you think about it a bit but not too long. You know I can just unlock the memory for Akira, right?. So might as well be up to you.”

She took control of me in a split second, and as soon as she said that gave the control back to me. The feeling of getting back in control is like your mind was in prison and is finally free. Probably equivalent to being drugged and sobering up, but the sobering up happens really fast.

Me: “Oh my god that was completely insane. But what was that all about? The yearbook and everything?”

His blood completely left his face and not a sound came out of his mouth. I was semi-excited that the experiment finally worked, but also anxious as the experiment DID work meaning I do have dissociative identity disorder. On top of all that I was also anxious to know what the hell is going on with the yearbook.