I used to feel trapped. I had to live in the house of terror, and I mean that with no exaggeration. The walk from school to parents house was a walk of freedom, leisurely and unhurried. My mind was allowed to wander. It was a brief respite I looked forward to.
Living DID involved a good deal of uncertainty. Maybe it was typically for me to dissociate and find myself in a different classroom I didn't remember walking to or suddenly waking up, becoming conscious half-way through a reading assignment, being completely lost as to what had taken place all morning long till that point.
Again, I see me running down the dark hallway with many doors. I'd try a door here and there. If one was unlocked, I'd dart in and try and throw another part of me out for salvation.
I know. Sounds quite strange. For some reason it feels important to write, even if it's not understandable.
I lived more in intense fear than I did in nonfear. Always trying to get away, to hide. Never feeling safe or that I could get far enough away from the danger. I was perpetually exhausted. Under constant threat. Never felt safe enough to stop and catch my breath. No, danger was always imminent.
I slept with one eye open and with my back up against the wall. It didn't prevent my father from getting in bed with me but it made it a little less startling.
I guess I've always wondered if I could ever stop running. If I would be able to just sit and be within myself...semi-comfortably. I think I can do that now.
I just have to convince myself that I'm no longer being chased.
Maybe now the incessant running can stop.
