I was diagnosed with complex ptsd/DID when I was 64. For decades I had been treated for depression. Having a diagnosis that led to a therapist who specialized in complex trauma has helped me enormously. I'm 68 now. At first I fought the diagnosis, it felt scary. Today I am painting art that represents my parts, all of them! I was very fortunate to have wonderful neurologists at Mayo as well as my home area. They were able to fit me in with the top trauma therapist in my area.
My Therapist agreed to take my case only if I agreed to do the work which required that I show up weekly for an hour session. I agreed, the work began. Four years in, doing the work, weekly is an act of bravery. The best thing is when you realize you are here, whole, now. One part laughs at my "big feet" because she is a young girl. I remind her those big feet are HER feet, too.
I will probably be seeing a therapist the rest of my life and I am okay with that, maybe we will have our sessions less often eventually. We are all aware of, accepting of and respectful to each part. Just recently my "original" finally came out, I had begun to believe that there was no "original" in me.
I am lucky to have been able to train a Psychiatric Service Dog myself. Beau Geste is an apricot standard poodle that accompanies me everywhere. He is a magnet for people. We educate them on Service Dogs and WHY they can not be petted. *Smiles tenderly* It can be daunting when my ptsd flares, but Beau always helps me. Six feet behind me in a checkout lane because that is the space he takes up when he lays down and stretches out. He alerts me when I am going to have a bad episode (conversion tremors, nodding yes, yes, right arm dances all over the darn place). This way I can get to a seat and take my meds. Beau hops onto my lap and applies 70 pounds of compression therapy and keeps licking my face and neck to help me stay present. We love to sit by the grand piano in Von Maur just for fun. Be well and stay safe.