Skip to main content

"Sybil" and My Brain: I have is a Imaginary Friend


“Sybil” is a 1973 book by Flora Rheta Schreiber about the treatment of Sybil Dorsett (a pseudonym for Shirley Ardell Mason) for dissociative identity disorder (then referred to as multiple personality disorder) by her psychoanalyst, Cornelia B. Wilbur.

The therapist called the woman "Sybil" to protect her privacy.   Originally in treatment for social anxiety and memory loss, after extended therapy Sybil manifests sixteen personalities.  I loved the book when I read it in high school, and I loved the miniseries.

I never really thought about my brain. You take your brain for granted. It is a bunch of complex cells, but I didn't comprehend how much a brain really “does.”

In school, I had to study the brain.  I took psychology and biology. But the concept of a brain was so clinical. The structure of the brain was a just a topic to study.

When my strokes happened, it galvanized my thought process. This is my brain. Something is wrong with my brain. What! Why? Me! No way!

Now, it seems that my brain is like my secret identity. I am “Mark.” My brain is someone else entirely. Perhaps “his” name is “Todd” which was one of the choices our parents told my brothers they could name me: “Mark” or “Todd.”


Because of my strokes, I am so in tune with my brain. It seems like I have conversations with my brain all of the time. If I had a headache, in my head, I talk to “Todd” saying something like “No way Todd. We are fine. Stop this!” It is like have an imaginary friend.

Sometimes I argue with my brain, my imaginary friend. In my head, I think about my healing brain…wondering if the neuro-pathways are rebuilding. Every day, I sense that my brain is struggling to find new ways to circumvent the damage in the dead part of my brain. 

Sometimes, I pause and I consider that the brain is am miracle in so many unknowing ways. I am not a patient man, but I realize that my brain – perhaps my imaginary friend – working overtime to heal me. I check in occasionally in my head saying “Keep up the great work. No days off!”  

It is like I have an out of body experience. Maybe this is my coping mechanism.  

Maybe I am crazy after all.  


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Two Faces of the American Dream

The massive wave of Norwegian immigration to Minnesota from the 1850s through the early 20th century wasn't a casual choice; it was an escape from crushing land scarcity and economic desperation.  My ancestors, the Dunhams, arrived in 1851 and built a life in Otter Tail County in Minnesota. My great-great-grandfather, Jens Christian Dunham, didn’t just survive—he thrived. He served in the Minnesota legislature as a Republican from 1888 to 1890 and later became a staunch advocate for President Teddy Roosevelt. He was the literal embodiment of the American Dream: an immigrant who fled poverty to become a lawmaker in his new home. Fast forward a century, and a new wave of immigrants—this time from Somalia—is following that exact same blueprint. Like the Norwegians before them, they fled hardship to build a future in Minnesota, and many have run for office to serve the state that welcomed them. Yet, the political rhetoric surrounding these two groups couldn't be more polarized. Don...

Phantom Blindness and Taking a Break after Strokes

I met with my eye doctor last week about taking some time off from my vision therapy. I have been doing therapy since my stroke almost two and a half years ago. I am tired, and a need a break. My doctor said, “This is completely understandable. Take some time off.” At the appointment, my doctor tested my vision. Because of the strokes, my vision was affected, and I have a problem in my field of vision on the right side. I have a deficit with my right side peripheral vision. However, it is getting better. During the test, I told him that I “sense things on the right side of my peripheral vision.” It seems that I know that something is there, but I cannot really distinguish what it is. He told me that there is a body of thought describing phantom vision or phantom blindness. A Polish researcher, L. Bieganowski, described this phantom blindness this way:    “The subject of the paper is the phenomenon of phantom vision. It occurs among the blind (or almost blind...

Eye floaters, Strokes, Another ER visit….

It is always something.... I’ve had eye floaters for as long as I can remember. My paternal grandmother had them. My brothers have them too. They’ve always been part of my vision—little drifting specks, threads, and shadows moving across my sight. Over time, you learn to live with them. Sometimes they swirl around, sometimes they settle toward the bottom of your vision, and most of the time you simply ignore them. Floaters are actually tiny clumps inside the eye that cast shadows on the retina. They’re common as we age, especially after fifty, and usually they’re harmless. Doctors will tell you that most people eventually tune them out. But sometimes they change. On Wednesday, while we were driving home from an overnight trip, something felt different. It was my left eye. The floaters suddenly looked darker, heavier, and there were flashes of light along the edge of my vision—almost like a bright crescent moon flickering on and off. At first, I tried to ignore it. After everything ...