I wrote the following during the span of a couple nights. I'm not going to edit it or change anything because I feel like that might take something away. I think writing it out was beneficial, because I know what I need to change about my way of thinking. I'm just stuck on how to fix it.
I really don’t want to write this. I really, really don’t want to write this. I don’t want to think about these things and I really don’t want to relive them.
However, I’ve decided I must. I seem to be stuck in a cycle of progression and regression that I don’t really care for, and I think that writing this out may help get rid of the emotional baggage picked up during the events recorded.
I suppose that I should start at the beginning. The very beginning, not where all the problems started. Instead of going to public high school, I went to a charter high school with my brother. They have a great early college program and catered to nerds like us. I knew it was a great decision, but I missed my friends and that first year I was very reserved. I sat with my brother and his friends at lunch. I kept to myself in class and took part in conversations only when invited to do so. It wasn’t that I was anti-social, really, I just spent most of my socializing time online.
Where 10th grade becomes relevant to this, is biology class, second semester. I was in a class with a bunch of rowdy juniors, a couple seniors and one other sophomore. I sat between two very nerdy boys because I knew I had no desire to sit among the rest of the class. (Our class was particularly rough; our teacher sent a student to the principal’s office almost daily.) One was a senior named Matt. He was a math whiz, genius, and asian. He wore the same vest with cargo pockets every day. We were all convinced that vest gave him magic abilities. (He even wore it over his graduation gown) Ben was the other one, also the other sophomore in the class. The three of us struck up a friendship and would quietly chat throughout class while the other side of the room got into trouble for being obnoxious.
Ben was the problem. I liked him alright and he was definitely fun to talk to, but he liked me in a very different way. His feelings were rather obvious, given the sheer amount of attention he paid me. I would be reading quietly to myself and thought he was doing the same, when he would lean over and tell me that he’d been watching and did the calculations and found out that I read about 2 and a half times faster than he did. He always moped if I’d been absent as, Matt was quick to tell me. He spent more time watching me than he ever did the lectures. For the most part, I tried to ignore it. I tried to be careful that I didn’t do anything to encourage him, but I didn’t discourage his friendship. Part of me liked the idea that anyone thought of me that much. The other part of me was highly self conscious and a little creeped-out. I was familiar with infatuation, but I wasn’t used to being the object it was directed towards. It felt like he was collecting a file of information on me, rather than just noticing things about someone he liked. Looking back, I may have liked him if not for that.
The school year ended, as they do, and I didn’t talk to him all summer. I wasn’t very worried, and as I worked at scout camp that summer, I had much better things to think about. When school started, if Ben was in any of my classes besides seminary I don’t recall. I was friendly, but nothing really more than casual. I had my camp friends now, and I’d gained confidence in myself. I was able to chat freely with everyone and I guess I treated everyone with the same sort of casual caring. I suppose he still watched me, but he rarely shared his observations and so I became less self-conscious. He didn’t make much move beyond that.
I’m sure part of the reason was Jake. Jake was a senior that sat next to me in seminary and we hit it off very well. In December, he asked me to the Christmas dance. A few dates after that and another month and a half we went to the V-day dance as well. In April, he gave me my first kiss. After that, we were steady dating though we were never ‘officially’ boyfriend and girlfriend. Our mutual feelings were the worst kept secret in the school. We continued dating through the next year as Jake went to Utah State, an hour away.
In that time, I’d received a note on my desk in red pen telling me that I was gorgeous and that the author cared for me. I knew it was Ben from his expression as he left the classroom and the handwriting confirmed it. Senior year, I went on a double date with him and he told me that the note had been from him. I told him that I appreciated his regards, but that I didn’t return his feelings. I am pretty sure I signed up on facebook that year. We talked occasionally and I was hopeful that we’d be able to just be friends and he would find interest in someone else.
After my senior year, I sent Jake off to S. Africa to serve a mission with many tears and much heart break. That is where the real trouble started.
I was a stupid, love struck, little girl. Jake was my world before he left. I spent far too much time with him, or talking to him, or even just thinking about him. I wasn’t a well balanced person. When he was abruptly gone, I had a whole lot of empty space to fill. Of course I wrote letters and read books, and I had a job, but it was summer and those are long hours to fill. Very shortly after Jake left, Ben started talking to me again. I was wary, but I was also grateful for a friend.
This would be a lot easier if I could just get the information off my old hard drive. I have whole conversations saved that I used to keep things straight.
He was so bloody attentive. He always knew when I was having a hard day, always wanted to know what had my interest at the moment. He was always willing to listen to my vent about whatever it was going on. Of course I knew it was stupid. How couldn’t I? But I wanted someone there and I convinced myself that he only liked me as a friend.
That was spoiled when he told me how he felt about me bluntly, not expecting me to return the feelings, at the same time expressing that he could not imagine a happier life than one with me. I was so frustrated. Of course I was only interested in friendship! How could he possibly hope otherwise? Why did he even tell me? Why couldn’t he just get over it? But he was willing to try and be friends and of course I was. Curse me for always trying to stay friends!
We still talked daily and in one of these conversations, he told me his darkest secret. He had multiple personality disorder. Now I’d taken a couple of psychology classes in college and read a few articles, so I thought I knew something about it. In a particular article I read, a girl had something like 14 distinct personalities but through extensive help and therapy she was able to ‘meld’ them into one. Occasionally other minor ones would crop up and then were dealt with.
Ben told me about 3 parts of him. Ben, Brian, and another whose name I can’t recall. Ben for the most part was who I interacted with I guess. Ben was the creative, emotional, and nice part. Brian was the intellectual, factual, judgmental one. The other was the blank spot. Sort of the mediator but more the one that would cover up stuff he didn’t want to deal with. Either Ben or Brian loved peanut butter m&ms and the other couldn’t stand them. I suppose the conversation came up because I’d told him that I wouldn’t ever be interested romantically in him and that I was contemplating cutting off our friendship because I was worried that I’d end up hurting him later.
Ben told me that he’d been split since he was 8 or 9 and had been trying to fix himself for the past couple years. When he met me, I was the only thing that both parts (he didn’t worry about Spot much, and yes I just named the other one Spot) wanted. I was the mutual territory for himself. He saw me like some kind of savior, a lifeline. He told me because he was worried that, if I cut him off, he would just split further. He begged me to give him another chance, or even just more time.
Of course I couldn’t just leave him like that! How could I possibly walk away from a situation that I could be a help? How could I contemplate being that cruel? Oh how I hated it though. How could I find a path that ended up being the least painful for all those involved? I told him to tell his parents, or his brother Zack, (still friends with Zack, he’s great) or his bishop, or Someone. I knew it wasn’t a good idea for me to be the solution. I was almost desperate for someone to help the situation. He told me that he’d tried to talk about it with his parents years before and they would never believe him. He refused to talk to anyone about it.
Every now and then we’d hang out, go get food or go to a movie or something. I was never happy when I was around him, but I knew the time meant so much to him so I couldn’t say no. Almost every time, I tried to convince him it was smarter for me to just leave him alone, and every time he was convinced that it would break him. He was fixated. He ran into a car in front of him one day because he was looking at me instead of the road! There wasn’t Too much damage, but to this day I hate being in the car with almost anyone else driving. He would sing songs by The Fray to me and I had to listen to them over and over to erase his voice.
I suppose it’s as good a time as any to talk about my doubts and fears. I had such a hard time believing that he really had split personality disorder. It was so taboo and far fetched. Several times a day I’d think in circles about the idea. It was far too ridiculous, he couldn’t be. I’d never met one of the other personalities, but how couldn’t it be true? Why would he lie to me? Why would he lie about something so horrid? I confronted him about it bluntly, begging him to only ever tell me the truth because I knew if he lied to me about anything, I’d never be able to trust him. I didn’t feel bad acknowledging my doubts at first, after all, his own parents wouldn’t believe him. He was so hurt that I would think he was lying and I kept it to myself and felt guilty I’d doubted him.
As time went on he said he was making progress with the melding thing. He started to enjoy peanut butter m&ms, made other small changes, I thought it was great. Anything that showed an ounce of progress in this mess was welcomed. I tore myself apart, praying and pondering, wondering what I could possibly do to help. Everything I thought of he rejected or begged his way out of. I couldn’t trust one way or another. The whole situation was so confusing and frustrating and painful that I could barely stand it at times. I cried myself to sleep frequently. I wanted to be mad at Ben, but it wasn’t his fault. He should have handled it better! He should be willing to look for help! How could I expect that of him though? Wasn’t he already struggling enough?
Ben had a goal to serve a mission. I knew it was a bad idea to send a missionary out with that kind of disorder if no one knew about it. I knew he had to find some kind of help that that it couldn’t be me. How could I tell him that though? I tried to talk him into the idea often. One day, after we’d gone for food, he wanted to keep driving and talking and I’d just had enough. I wanted to go home. I asked him to take me home firmly and he did. When he got there though, he lingered. He started acting funny like he was having an allergic reaction or something. I think he had taken cold medicine for something. When I was finally able to get him to promise he was going to go straight home and sleep, I went inside. He didn’t leave. He just sat there for a long time. Then it was like he was a kid at a daycare, in his own little world. He climbed into the passenger seat and started drawing on his arms with purple marker. (yes I was spying, I wanted to know he was gone) I was So frustrated, but I calmed down, walked outside and asked what he was doing. He acted very distracted, or loopy. I made him come inside and drink some water while I talked to my mom about the situation. His balance was off kilter, he was spacey, and it seemed like he had no idea what was going on. So I called his parents, explained that Ben was acting strange after taking cold medicine, and asked if they could come retrieve him. They were obviously annoyed (who wouldn’t be) but agreed. When I sat down and told Ben about it (a few times to make sure it got through) he said that was a silly idea and that he was perfectly capable of driving home. When I asked why he wasn’t then, his eyes glazed over again. Neither of his parents were very pleased to see him in such a state, but I don’t think they had much more idea of what to do than I did. Looking back, they probably thought one or both of us were being overly dramatic.
That day was kind of just the final straw for me. I simply Couldn’t handle that much stress anymore. So I told Ben that it wasn’t a good idea for us to hang out at anymore. He needed to focus on his mission and get help for himself and I was just distracting him from that. I told him that I would still be his friend, but that I wanted him to give me a week of no communication so I could just cool off and deal with myself for a while.
Every day he found some way to talk to me. After 4 days, I got messages telling me that he was breaking.
I Hate him So much sometimes! How could he lie like that?! How could he take advantage of my trust like that? How could he possibly be so awful!? How did I believe him? Why couldn’t I trust myself? Did I do the right thing? Is he okay? Is it my fault? Why couldn’t I just tell him to go away? What did I do to make him be like this? Why does everything I do Hurt Someone?!?!?!!!!
I need sleep. I’ll see if I can find any old messages tomorrow. I can’t take more of this tonight.
I found some old facebook messages. Here’s that message:
“Cora; I have to talk to you!
I'm dying.
I've run 2.63 miles, torn 17 holes in my pants, 2 in my shirt, got 8 cuts on my legs, 1 on my shoulder, and smacked a wall so hard that I think I've broken my pinky.
And now, now I'm at the point of no return. I'm still shaking, but this time, it's not anger, or even adrenaline that makes me tremble. I burned that off.
This time, I'm torn. I feel so embarrassed, and so ashamed, and so afraid, scared; I'm worried. I feel myself breaking down, I think I'm happy about it, I want to be broken, it'd make everything soo much easy.
I can't believe I lost control; I know I'm not ready to talk to people. I'm terrible; a monster. I thought I was safe, to talk with you, to feel things around you. I was wrong; I can't be trusted.
I... I don't know how long I can hide from my family. I think I'm going to start crying soon. Cora, I can't do this.”
As far as I can remember, I called him and chewed him out for hurting himself and told him that he really needed to pray because if he couldn’t talk to anyone else, he could at least talk to the God that created him. Then I told him to leave me alone and take care of himself. He called several times that night trying to ‘apologize’, I hung up each time before he started talking.
“Call me; I have to apologize properly Cora. I ... I can't call you, you'll just hang up, and you're right, it's noisy. my cell is 628-3267. Please...”
I got those on June 29th. We must have patched things up because I got this on August 8th.
“Cora, I'm so sorry about that! It wasn't fair for me to be such an idiot. I should have just dealt with it. It wasn't cool for me to make ya listen to my breakdown. I got my wish, ya know; thinking about nothing is really weird. it was kinda peaceful, in a disturbing, feeling nothing sorta way. I hope you're at film right now; I'm a little worried that my freaking out would have made you forget; I almost did.”
I guess I was speaking with him again, because I think the ‘breakdown’ he’s referring to occurred earlier that day. This is what I replied,
“Ben, I'm glad you have Someone to listen when you're freaking out. I'm glad you got your wish, but I'm really disappointed that you didn't just go pray. Or if you did, how long it took. For me that's just the obvious answer. Father Made you, I'm pretty darn sure he knows how to help you. I went to film, but left in the middle of it to make a statement and to stand up for my beliefs. That movie (not telling which one) was Horrible! I almost threw up on the drive home! I think something is wrong with me. I keep feeling like I'll throw up.”
I think the ‘wish’ I was referring to was that he get himself under control. I seem to recall that he had kind of ‘fixed’ himself but I don’t remember exactly.
On August 12th, he snapped. Just completely broke. I’m pretty sure I’d told him to leave me alone again because he was just Toxic. I couldn’t stand talking to him. I couldn’t handle his problems on top of my own. And he just shattered. Once I had taken the glass shelf out of the fridge and I was cleaning it in the sink with hot water. As I picked it up to put it back in, it hit something and Shattered. Hundreds of little glass pieces went everywhere at once, leaving only bits in my hands. That’s what it felt like. It felt like I was trying to help something be better and it shattered because of me.
His mind broke. I got fb chat messages from “Alden” who made references to other personalities and telling me to stay the heck away from Ben because He was in charge now. He told me that I was obviously the reason that Ben was such a freak. I got this message an hour or so after,
“Cora, I'm so sorry for everything; I don't have long.
I hate him for telling you, for hurting you like this, I hate them both. I WILL kill them.
Maybe, after I have, I can deserve to beg your forgiveness.
Dont listen to Alden; he's afraid of you. Again, I'm so, so, terribly sorry. There's no way I can convey with words my utter misery at this situation. I know you find no comfort in knowing that I do still love you, but I do. I ... I have to go; no more time.”
I think I talked to Ben on fb chat a bit. I remember him telling me that I was the only thing keeping him fighting.
I don’t remember what I did. What could I have done? I think my attitude was something along the lines of ‘stay the hell away from me until you’ve fixed yourself’. At any rate, he did. We exchanged this message on August 23rd,
“Thank you for coming back Ben.”
“You're entitled to it; I'm just ashamed that it was back I was coming. I should never have been anywhere I would have to come back from in the first place... I guess Thank You for letting me.”
Things weren’t great between us. (how could they be) I told him that I didn’t want to see him until his mission farewell. He prepared for a mission, got clearance from the bishop, and got called to Atlanta, Georgia. At his farewell, I gave him a hug goodbye, and he kissed my forehead. He told me that he wanted me to have his first kiss, even if he never got a kiss back. I hated him for that.
After that, I got letters. The letters and notes he wrote from the MTC were great. He could really feel the Holy Ghost and God’s love for him. I was really hoping that he would do well and just heal. He visited with his Branch President to make sure that he was worthy to be there and to serve the Lord, got cleared and felt amazing afterward.
In his last letter from the MTC, he told me how tempting it was to hack a computer and talk to me for a while, but that he thought it was be much easier if he knew he’d be getting letters from me once a month. I wish I could explain just how easily he manipulated me. I wrote him back with general boring news, asked how he was and such. At the end of January, I got two letters. One was fun, up-beat and fake. That was the letter I was allowed to show people. The other letter told me how much he hated not hearing from me for so long and that he was barely sleeping 2 hours a night, had nightmares in which I was dying, and that he had lost 20lbs. (I swear he didn’t have 20lbs to lose) He said he felt greedy and ungrateful when he wished that he knew how I was doing, but that he couldn’t stop thinking about me. Looking back, that one was probably fake too.
I don’t know what was real. Was Anything real?
On the 4th or 5th of March, 2010, I got a fat envelope in the mail. It was a fairly nice day, sweater weather but not unpleasant. I had a horrible sinking feeling when I picked it up. I cut it open, read the first line, put it back in the envelope and got my rollerblades. I knew I was going to be very very upset and I wanted to read this letter somewhere that I could do so in privacy. Home wasn’t an option, but I had a fairly secluded spot I loved rollerblading to, so I went there.
“Dear Cora, I’m sorry. I’ve lied to you, I’m sorry.”
What followed was 10 pages of torture. “I have lied to you about Who I am; The Only Insanity I can Honestly claim is an insane desire to be dishonest in my dealings with my fellow men.”
“I have never sought my own death. I led about attempted suicides.”
“I exaggerated my dreams.”
“I didn’t want to have to deal with having to twist the Blade of Deceit I’ve placed in your life until you felt it. I was Terrified of Hurting you with the Truth; I was Trapped in a vicious Cycle of Lies.”
Everything was a lie. The person I knew was a character made by a liar to deceive and convince. I Trusted him! I believed him! I put myself through hell trying to help him, trying to understand, trying to be there for someone who in return abused me in the worst kind of way. I couldn’t trust him or anything he’d ever said. I couldn’t trust myself because I didn’t know what to believe for so long, still didn’t know what to believe. I was so lost and hurt and Terrified of what I had done. Who was I that someone would lie like that just to stay close to me? What sort of awful creature could make someone behave in such a way? I hadn’t asked for this, had I? I only wanted a friend. I just wanted someone I could trust, someone I could talk to when I was having a rough day. What did I do to trigger this?
It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything! He’s the horrible liar that abused my trust. How could he do that?! What did I ever do to him? Why would he be so cruel, so selfish, so foul and rotten? He Lied to me!
I don’t know how to shake the guilt and fear that I caused this. I don’t know how to let go of the anger towards myself and towards him for what he did. I know that I wanted to help. I know that I was trying to do the right thing. Why can’t I feel that? What can’t I get rid of this guilt?
I always end up hurting people. I can’t care about someone, because I will always hurt them eventually. My touch is poison. Just like that piece of glass, anything I touch is going to shatter.
I’m trying so hard to make a good impact on the world. I want to be a great massage therapist. I want to help people have a better quality of life. I want to help people in bad situations heal themselves. I want to bring the Boy Scouts to the Philippines. I want to open a camp for troubled youth. I want everyone in the world to get 10 hugs a day. I want to raise children that know who they are and know God’s plan for them. I want to empower them to make and reach goals, to be the best kind of people.
I know I have good desires. I know I want to help people and that I Can. I have the tools, I have the ability, I have the guidance from my Heavenly Father and I have his love. But under everything is this horrible, nagging, pressing doubt. I can’t let myself believe that I won’t shatter something else. I’m always afraid I’m going to hurt the people I love.
I don’t know how to get over it, but I know that I have to. I know that I must. I know that I can. And I will. I will. I will. Somehow, I will.
