I want to write a full thing on doubt and plurality another time, but seeing some posts around here has lit a fire under my tail to at least ramble about our experiences with it.
Long story short: we're at the point where we don't really experience doubt anymore, but it wasn't always like that. Over a decade in the making, by this point.
When I say that we don't experience doubt, I don't mean that we never ever get thoughts like "are we making all of this up?" or "are we mistaken?" They still pop up now and then, but we kind of shrug them off and get on with our day, like any other intrusive thought. It's kind of like "is the world actually an elaborate simulation and everyone is fake except me?" - where it's like, "cool theoretical, bro! I guess there's no way to prove that the world isn't a simulation, technically... but I don't see how pondering this brings anything of value to my life, so I won't." An idle curiosity, rather than an acute distress.
See, the thing is, often plural folks in doubt approach it by trying to find something that Proves They're Plural For Sure and Makes The Doubt Go Away Forever. This can mean looking to outerworld folks (medical professionals, other plural people, singlet friends and family) to Validate them. Or it can mean tallying up their separateness, number of switches, etc etc to compare themselves against some standard of True Plurality. We did these things, too! And guess what? None of them helped us. No matter who validated us, it wasn't enough, because we'd always find ways to wonder if we were Just Tricking Them or if they were Just Humoring Us. No matter how many experiences we tallied up as "proof," it wasn't enough, because we always found ways to move the goalposts, to find some other impossible standard to measure ourselves against. It's not enough, it's not enough, it's never enough.
Here's another thing about us: we have OCD. Not the quirky "I'm so OCD" kind from Hollywood. The diagnosed-and-medicated kind, the kind that becomes debilitating to the point of self-harm without our pills, the kind that still surfaces in twisted thought patterns and itchy impulses even if said pills curb the worst of the outward symptoms. And here's a thing about OCD: nothing you do ever satisfies it. Do a ritual, act on a compulsion, and at best, the relief is only temporary. The thoughts abate for only a brief time - and then they come rushing back in. Do the ritual again - but you didn't do it right, so you have to do it again, and again, and again--
It's never enough. The only way to win is to not play.
You see the parallels, yeah? We eventually saw them, too. ("UGH, so this is OCD too? How many more times do we have to do this?") So we set about figuring out how to not play.
What helped:
We stopped asking outside people for validation. Full stop, cold turkey. External validation was always a doomed endeavor - none of those people, not even the professionals, lived in our head, had to navigate our reality with our tools. They could help us, but they could not be our authorities. If the urge arose, we would refuse to say or type the words; we would instead find some other topic to talk about.
We stopped comparing ourselves to other systems. This was harder, since it all happens internally; we had to learn how to watch our thoughts and redirect them whenever they started going down that lane, even if that meant closing the thread we were reading on other people's experiences and doing something else.
(Yes, it was hard. Yes, the doubt screamed and threatened and begged. Especially since we did much of this before we were on pills! But the only way out is through.)
We did still reflect on our experiences, but instead of holding them up against some arbitrary Real Plurality Scale, we paid attention to the ways that treating ourselves as plural helped us, in ways that treating ourselves as singlet wouldn't have. Sometimes that meant "by talking with the other people in my head I was able to avoid making a bad decision." Sometimes that meant "there was a voice screaming and raging nonstop until I talked gently to them and we figured out what was wrong." Not all of the experiences were fun, but they were helpful.
Likewise, we paid attention to the times we doubted our plurality - specifically, the ways that doubt either did nothing or actively got in the way of us getting shit done. (Which was pretty much every time! It turns out that calling yourself fake doesn't make what you're experiencing go away, golly gee goodness!)
We tried to figure out where the doubt was coming from. Internalized ableism. A lifetime of having our personhood erased, our experiences dismissed. Societal stigma. As LB Lee said in The Importance of Being Real, it's easier to fixate on "am I faking" than it is to address any of the actual problems underneath.
We took a sabbatical from the plural community and its endless slapfights. Made some cool friends. Touched some metaphorical and literal grass. Lived our life without trying to label every part of it. Let ourselves be people, not discourse talking points. Realized how small and petty all the slapfights, all the accusations of "faking" that we had internalized really were.
And whenever doubt did show up, we would answer it with: "We aren't sure and we can never be sure, but this is what works. And getting mired in doubt doesn't work. So we won't." (And yes, it felt absolutely fake at first. But the more that we said it, the easier it became. The only way out is through.)
Ten-plus years of this. A long road. But all the better that we started when we did. Take what's helpful - I don't think you need OCD for advice to be relevant - and leave the rest. Good luck.
(Addendum: there's another class of question that comes up, that's more nuanced than "am I mistaken?" Questions like "is this healthy?" or "how real is this, really?" To which I say: good questions! what does it mean to be "healthy"? to be "real"? who decides what is "healthy" and "real" and by what criteria? what does "health" look like for the disabled? "reality" for the neurodivergent, the mentally ill, the marginalized? when we ask whether something is "healthy" or "real," what is our aim in doing so? And so on, and so forth. These questions can be valuable to engage with, but only if you actually engage with them. Going "this can't be healthy, this can't be real, why can't I just Stop" isn't engagement, it's self-flagellation. Learn the difference, and learn how to step away when you know you can't engage productively - just like with randos on the internet.)
