I Am The Astronaut; Not a Broken Mistake


Melissa uses artful description to indicate her thoughts on which Headmate is the original real one. Melissa has Dissociative Identity Disorder, though, how many alters does she have?

*Intro Reel*

If a bowl falls and shatters, which piece is the original? They all are. In the case of Dissociative Identity Disorder, all come from the same source, while none were ever actually a bowl. They certainly had the potential to be, though, the mould was not yet set.

I’m Melissa, and while I am not broken, I am but one piece of a whole. To be honest, there is no sense in searching for what piece fits where, because perhaps, we are no longer meant to fit together, but to coincide.

To find out what I mean by that, stay tuned.

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Space is referred to as a fabric. It’s somewhat measurable, contains parts that form a whole, and is a complete mystery. While some long to understand it, some seek to fix it, and some prefer to accept it, and simply be a part of it.

A young student might aspire to be a surgeon, but veers off this course and becomes an astronaut. What should we do about this unrealized destiny? While, as an astronaut, the student grew to defy expectation, we do not bend time and space to make him into what he would have been, but is not.

The surgeon could have put his pieces together, though the astronaut sought to discover all corners of the expanse. There’s nothing to fix; merely more to explore. Perhaps, it’s not about fixing the broken bowl, but of using its new qualities to build a new existence.

I was the astronaut; exploring an empty expanse; seeing endless space, when I should have seen the stars. I assumed that I was a singular…

How could I not have seen the stars? A beam, though traveling at the speed of light, takes quantitative time to pierce the edge of black.

We are one; made of many. Some might ask, “How many?” I wonder this too.

The answers are unclear, though, the total number of Headmates in The Bag may be out of my reach, at least for me; Melissa.

I began referring to our Inner world Headspace as “The TownSpace” because it seems there are the inner workings of a city with buildings, schools, and relationships.

Something I wonder lately is, “Could there be more than one town?” There seems to be a connection with very English language dwellings, though, other times, I feel connected to purely French conversations. Perhaps, the town is bilingual, though, I get the feeling that they are separate.

Last year, I began to outline a map of our system. After realizing that the Dissociative Identity Disorder did not mean just 2 or three of us in our case, I started putting the bits of information together, and it is my current belief that we are at least hundreds in our system, which is what is known as polyfragmented.

Many of us have a tendency to smile; though they are all different smiles. I found myself lumping all the smiling into one Headmate. I now recognize the variances.

Exclamation Mark smiles as a young boy with extreme energy and a love of a competitive spirit.

Skittle bursts in a child’s joy with pure, incorruptible energy and love.

Maggie grins like she is seeing the world for the first time and finding it mesmerizing. Perhaps, in a way, she’s encountering the surface in prime, first contact, and reacting quite positively.

My smile is often reserved and not nearly as wide as it once was. My sense of eccentric and quirky humour was nearly a show in of itself. I have mellowed, though clearly, parts of us are still very alive with laugher and happiness.

We may have a variety of distinguishable presentations in smiles, though, we also have distinct frowns.

Katie, who is two years old, is very sullen. She seems to contain trauma memories and vulnerability. Her words, manner of speaking, and vocabulary, are only developed to the point of a toddler. Even when she feels a connection with her Butter bunny, the positive emotion in loving connection feels in some way, sad.

I fit into those of us who frown distinctly. My anxieties are strong, as is my sense of responsibility and serious perspective. I still possess a playful side, though its not as strong as it once was.

We are each unique, though, we were from the start. In modifying the bowl shattering analogy, we were perhaps at one time meant to be a surgeon, but we lost the ability to solely be one whole. With normal development, we would have become a bowl, or a surgeon, but we were pieces from the start. Some may feel this means that we are broken or incomplete. We are not; we complete each other.

If I can be a part of a hodgepodge of emotions belonging to different parts of us, perhaps we can be both a surgeon and an astronaut. We propel ourselves forward on an endless journey, though we approach it with a hope for an improved inner wellbeing. Parts of our fabric of space possess a tendency to care for and mend the other parts. Some are more disruptive, while others are peacemakers. Some race into adventure, uncertainly, and they learn from each other. A few are young and perhaps shy, sad, fearful, or they may be joyful and fun; looking to bring child’s’ play.

In a sense, those in this system of stars, or system of alternate identities are coasting together in unison, exploring, mending, seeking truth, drawing on courage, and on the way, earning each other’s loyalties.

I would sync with this ship if it went down, though, we are drawn to the surface; rising, face up, from the depths of the ocean.

The idea that I was not alone was one that inspired fear. Now, the fear inspires me. I am further connected to the other souls held in this vessel. When they feel rejected, hurt, joy, pride; I live it with them.

We each hold a role in our system, though, as I wonder more and more about the number of us that we may be, I grow confused as to how we synchronize so many roles without chaos.

A wise fellow system told me, “There are as many of you as you needed to be in order to survive the trauma.”

I worry less about how many we are, because that’s out of my control, and if they are here, in the HeadSpace, or TownSpace, they are welcome, necessary, and they are the reason I will not go down with this ship; I will not need to.

I’ve said before, “Perseverance hasn’t let me down.” We remain determined, whether as surgeons or astronauts, we push forward.

If there are any systems listening; you are not limited. Any words discouraging you from achieving are misspoken, even if they came from your own doubt. You may feel cursed, afraid, or like you’ve lost your path. Dare to journey on your lost road. See where it leads. I trust that you can, because while I am the astronaut, so are you.

Should our ship crumble, I will remain with my crew as we break free of limitations imposed and propel in coursing synchronicity as a cluster of shooting stars. Our eagerness, playful joy, extreme happiness, fierce disposition, fighting spirit, Inner caretaker, adventurer, will be so strong that their light will precede us.