Intro Reel
Melissa: I have alternate personalities.
Skittle: It’s really funny!
Melissa: But what if none of this is real?
Unknown: She doesn’t even like me!
Melissa: Where was I when that happened?
Melissa: SNAP back to it, man. Snap back to it.
SpitFire: Can she just get out of my face?!
Skittle: I want to watch a cartoon!
Melissa: What if I’m not real?
End Intro Reel
I grew up in a French speaking town in the province of Quebec, Canada. I dissociated my way through school, where when I was called on by the teacher to give an answer, I had no idea of the context in order to reply.
My failing grades were of a struggling student that grew overwhelmed by mathematical, technological, or scientific concepts that she couldn’t grasp.
An IQ can grow, but on a spectrum according to a persons individual baseline potential. If an IQ has a sudden change, it’s a drop; not a spike upwards.
I have Dissociative Identity Disorder, which means that I’m only one part of a fragmented mind. One of those selves impacted our mind in an explosive wave of information and data overload before I knew his name; John.
Today, we discuss the passive influence of a Headmate, stark differences in knowledge and abilities, and how my IQ potential did not spike; it was simply fractured off and developing in another part of our mind while I dissociated our school years away.
I approach this episode with hesitancy. While I recognize a clear difference in my ability to process information compared to that of John Q, it sounds like something easy to claim, but potentially received with skepticism; even from me. I will go into that more a bit later, but for now, I will let you get a feel for our story and allow you to draw your own conclusions.
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This story happens prior to our diagnosis; in a time when the concept of living with alters was not something I conceived to be possible, which made this all the more confusing.
The year is 2019 where I experienced a few weeks of crippling fatigue, to the point of an inability to even sit, followed by months of practically vegetative cognitive skills. I grasped very little, didn’t know much of what was happening, and required the narration of my basic actions in order to remember what I was doing, where I was going, and how to get back where I started.
I managed to use my basic thinking to navigate the web to find information on natural sources of energy that could be of help. I discovered Ginseng, researched which ones were effective, then ordered in hopes that it could make a difference. It certainly did increase my energy, which was welcome.
I was on this supplement for two weeks when September then hit the scene. I noticed how much more intuitive I was; insightful into my own process. I didn’t think too much of it until I woke up one September morning with a series of realizations about random facts that I had learned throughout my lifetime, but didn’t understand. Concepts, nuances, linguistic meanings suddenly made sense.
My realizations and my thoughts sped up to where I was analyzing the most logical efficiencies of every action I took. Everything became strategy and fact to which I devoured eagerly with fascination.
The processing increased to a degree that couldn’t be managed and I could not finish analyzing one fact before halting, then moving onto the next.
I’m going to play a example clip of my discourse during this time.
And I’m overdoing the process, and I’m not sure exactly what the meaning behind the process that is currently occurring, and that was a double use of the word in one sentence, which is not grammatically correct. And grammar; if you think about grammar, it’s not about piousness or professionalism. It’s about communication. Things are overly complex in my head, and then the thinking becomes so defined and so complex that it’s kind of like a different pathway, or mix of different ways to manipulate the way that you do it. Which way is more efficient and what would have happened if you had done it differently? There’s so many sources to… This is erratic! I’m overcharged and it’s emotionally, you know, my…it’s too much and I’m starting to deteriorate emotionally in terms of my endurance capacity…
Anxiety levels were beyond what I felt I could endure. I became as frazzled on the outside as I felt on the inside. I tried to hide the change and only confided in my therapist from at the time.
After the initial onset and the spiralling that lasted several days, my thinking became more calculated and slowed down. It became an obsession to spend my waking hours researching various facts and studying them; each with aspects that made me curious of yet another concept. Learning colour code combinations led to what colours consist of, what their wavelengths are in light, what causes light, and then, of course the meaning of perception of light regarding whether my existence was an illusion as well.
As I studied rules in mathematic consistencies and rules of infinity, I came across words I did not know, but grew wildly intrigued to find out their linguistic meaning to then further the understand of my current literature.
I’d found myself making a Facebook post regarding the way I used to talk and how I began expressing myself. The post read:
Me two months ago: “I’m doing the thing.”
Me today: “I’m implementing the required specifications in order to attain the desired end result.” #TakeYourGinseng
A wise commenter in reply wrote, “It doesn’t matter how slow you go just along as you don’t stop.”
My response was perhaps not quite my expected norm, which was, “To the disabling degree to which I was incapable of functioning, it was relevant. That consisted perhaps more regarding a correlation with physical deterioration. In a general sense, our individual importance in our speed of processing is variant depending on our goals. We all add relevant functioning to the whole of the structuring of elements outside of ourselves. In any case, I agree, for the most part.”
The kind supporter in the comments concluded in a polite and concerned manner that I was in a deep depression.
This this, I explained that this was deep analysis and not sadness.
In continued support, this friend inquired, “Oh I think I get it. you got lost in your own head….what’s on top of your list?”
My reply “At the moment, I am in the analysis of applications in learning and communication. I found a reference online to “Deductive Inference,” which I perceive as either a paradox that I need to figure out how it actually makes sense or the reference was wrong and misleading. It makes sense to infer with induction, but the very basis in the outline of deductive reasoning seems like such a contradiction if applied as being used together. I am certainly in a sense of overdrive that is disproportional to filling daily needs. So that, in itself, is surely maladaptive.”
The conversation continued and found it’s way to their conclusion of, “I know that women are complicated. But you my friend are a step above.”
As I was not yet aware of having alternate identities, at first, I thought it was the Ginseng, as it can have an impact on cognitive ability. However, to the point that my experience involved, this was giving the supplement too much credit.
I began to consider that I may be mentally imbalanced. I considered that the changes I was sensing were of a grandiose delusion in thinking that my potential had changed. I visited this thought, but felt it didn’t fit because while I did distinctly recognize a difference in my cognitive capacity and processing, I didn’t feel that I was superior or smarter than others. I was not Einstein level smart. I was merely in a shift from my usual abilities to grasp information. My IQ had not spiked overnight, though it felt like it was provided the potential to grow due to a new ease with data processing. I didn’t only grasp information in a new way, I also saw the world and myself differently. It felt like I wore the world differently.
One friend wanted to take Ginseng too because he said he felt stupid in comparison and he couldn’t wait to catch up. He was intimidated by my straight-faced, logical manner and composure. I recall him asking, “Who are you? This isn’t you. I liked you better before. Go back to the way you were.” And the way that he looked at me was not concern, but some form of fear.
I was so interested in the new absorbed information that I felt I needed to share it with my friends, as it would surely interest them as well. It did not. After an intense series of messages on various topics of fascination, it was noted, “You don’t even sound like yourself anymore. Wth? When did this start?”
As I explained what was happening, but with the use of my new linguistic format, she admitted, “I liked it better when you spoke normally. No one talks like this unless they are writing for a doctoral dissertation.”
I vowed to speak simply and be less overwhelming. More than that, I grew discouraged at the change in me and said, “I don’t want to have to simplify. I want to be simplified.”
“No need to use big words,” she told me. “I like normal Melissa.”
My reply, “I liked normal Melissa better too.”
I had grown oddly critical of the intelligence of those around me, or of their use of language that I deemed incorrect. I corrected my own grammar while I spoke when I detected any misuse.
I took everything literally, factually, and protected the dignity of a fact from being defaced.
When I took my sister’s insistence on a fact to which we disagreed, I perceived this as an intellectual debate.
After an injury, she made a comment saying, “I put a burn on my foot.”
My immediate response was that this result was not possible according to this phrasing and was incorrect. She thought I meant grammatically, while I meant scientifically.
To “put” implies displacement. One cannot pick up a burn from one location and then place it, or “put” it on ones own foot, unless of taking a dismembered burn off herself or someone else and placing it on her foot.
I found the opportunity to speak on the logic of language and scientific possibility to be energizing. My sister didn’t see this as intrigue. She perceived my passion to be anger and I found her in tears. I explained my actual perspective, but as she had never heard me speak that way about information, she didn’t grasp how it was anything but anger.
I then decided to let her in a little and informed that something was different about me and that I didn’t want to worry her, but that I was trying to figure it out.
Not long after, I finally confided in my friend Tonya about how different I felt inside with my new process. I was in tears and panic; trying to explain that something was wrong. I’m not sure how it was miscommunicated, but Tonya didn’t wan’t to acknowledge at first that I was any different. This, it seemed, was because, in her impression, she thought I believed I was so smart that it was like a super power status and that I was highly happy about it. It seemed like I was grandiose, when I was actually afraid and expressing myself wrong.
This reaction may have been because the situation was so strange that she didn’t know how to interpret it. I explained that I was not incredibly smart, but I had a new grasp of information that I didn’t before. I wasn’t the smartest person ever and wasn’t super special. I was simply different than I had been. I wasn’t joyful. I was crying and terrified.
“Tonya, did you really not notice a difference in me lately?”
“I did”
“Do I seem like I use language that I didn’t before.”
“You seem like a different person.”
“So, I’m not imagining this?”
“No. I see the difference.”
I then researched and found a psychologist who was studying a correlation between the biophysical and a high IQ.
I sought her out on LinkedIn to connect about my own theory in relation to hers. When we connected, I sent her a pdf with my explanation of my correlation to her research.
I’m about to read a few segments of this text as an example to what I refer.
Out of preferred efficiency, I am composing my introduction in advance to your approval of my contact request. This message is pertaining to a variable concept that is of relation to your research on a correlation between high cognitive performance and psychological or physical states. If we infer with induction, that leaves a window to a possible incomplete theory that is open to the influence of what is presented by a majority. Perhaps, there is a relevance to the paradox of the chicken or the egg. Which one came first? How can we conclude that a level of IQ is the cause and not the result? I’m applying the possible reverse in causation based on recent, unusual, significant changes in my capacity to easily grasp concepts, meanings, nuances, and facts.
I then went on to describe my symptoms and the events of the last few weeks and their context. A part that I found interesting that I noted was the following:
An ease of ability to draw out the use of more complex wording changed my communication to a degree where my loved ones couldn’t comprehend the meaning. Their perception was of a personality change. My values remained the same, though, perhaps there began an added appreciation, or even, a passion of learning. The shift that may have seemed like I was a different person is probably more likely a reflection of my new method of transmitting my thoughts to others that were formed through my differential internal process. A return to a need of identifying my sense of self was unnerving.
In providing an outline, I will explain the surrounding facts that I believe are outside of a basis of purely flawed perceptive value. If my observances are sound, then they comprise of the following sources:
She read my document and replied in saying that based on her evaluation, and while not knowing me in person, that my IQ is and always has been within the top 2 percentile or higher. She suggested that I find my tribe and join my local Mensa.
This dissociative state that I would describe as passive influence from a Headmate with a much higher intelligence lasted approximately two weeks.
I was growing suicidal over the fact that I was an idiot with a lifespan too short to be able to learn everything, so I would never know all I wanted to know, so what was the point? I had stopped eating, as it was a nuisance. Eating was an inconvenient human need that distracted from research, so I either forgot to eat while I was absorbed in learning, or dismissed the thought after realizing I hadn’t eaten all day.
I nearly reached breaking point. Communication with those I cared about became a puzzle to solve, as I did not process my responses in a format they could grasp. If an atom emits an electron when it hits the surface of an object, and that wavelength hits my retina, to where I only perceive light, colour, and the appearance of my surroundings, then perhaps, I too, was a perception.
On the final night in this state, I went to sleep expecting another increase in my spiralling further away from the person I was, but I woke up completely calm, quite clear minded, and entirely myself again.
This was one of the first major signs to our psychiatrist that something more was going on than previously assessed. In combining this experience with the waves of moments where I was “Unlike me,” I was diagnosed months before I forced his hand in telling me exactly what this was.
Last year, I finally had a conversation with the Headmate that I nicknamed IQ. He told me his name is John, like our grandfather. I thanked him for telling me his name, and I asked him if I could call him John Q; he accepted.