A Day in the Life of a Trainer - Page 2


© Svali
Page 2
I am considered a kind and patient teacher; the kids like me and I like them, although I wish the headaches would go away. Sometimes by the end of the day, they are intense.

3:30 School is out. My daughter has invited a friend home to play, so I remind them all to buckle up for the drive home. I am tired, but I also realize that it’s important that my children have an opportunity to reach out. I worry sometimes at their tendency to withdraw, and encourage them to have friends over. We practice riding our horse in the penned field in our back yard. My son comments, “Gee, Mom, you’re a lot nicer to me at home than when you’re my teacher,” and I laugh and say, “That’s because I don’t want to play favorites at school.”

5:30 I drive the friend home. Dinner is in the oven.

At this point, my day has been exactly that of any other person who is not DID or in a cult group. This is because my presenters, or day people, have been out. They are kind, caring, Christian, and completely unaware that there is another life that I live. If you stopped me at this point and asked, “Are you involved in any activities at night?” I would have absolutely no idea of what you were talking about. I was created specifically to look, act, and be normal in every way during the day. You could follow me around all day to this point, and there would be absolutely no indication that I lead another life at times. The only hint is the headaches, and occasional bouts of unexplained depression that I can’t seem to shake. I have had both all of my life.

6:30 My husband comes home and we all eat dinner. He and I have a good friendship, although we are distant in some ways: he lives his life and I live mine. We rarely argue or even disagree openly. I help the children with homework while he works on a business plan for a client.

7:45 A call comes, and when I pick up the phone, someone says, “Is Samantha there?” This is one of my code names, and I immediately switch. “Call back in a little,” I tell them. “Fifteen minutes,” the voice says. I send the kids upstairs to take their baths. 8:00 The call comes again. “Samantha?” I instantly change. My voice goes flat, and I reply in a wooden voice. “Yes, what is it?”

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Here's the follow-up discussion on this article: View all related messages

7.   Apr 23, 2005 6:02 AM
The account you have given us here must have taken huge courage to write. Ty for being so frank with us and sharing as you have done.
It will be words like yours to help break free the silence and un ...

-- posted by sgreen40


6.   Apr 11, 2004 7:59 PM
In response to message posted by freeic:

Wow!!! What a praise to the Lord! We rejoice with you in your discovery... that only His ...


-- posted by modelbill


5.   Apr 3, 2004 9:03 AM
In response to message posted by TiaNaranja:

I had 12 years of counseling that did not help. They stirred me up more and made it wor ...

-- posted by freeic


4.   Oct 20, 2002 1:05 PM
Getting to where your alters can communicate with each other (and with you--remember, "you" are just another alter) is very useful and is the first step in recovery.

Some things that have worked fo ...


-- posted by prgh


3.   Jun 13, 2002 2:48 PM
WOW, I could relate to your story. My history is SRA in what seems to be a well organized group. The way I first found out I had MPD was when a cashier at a grocery store recognized me from a biker ...

-- posted by TiaNaranja





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