It means that you will spend half your life hiding hideous events that could not be tolerated and the other half uncovering them via flashbacks and trying to assimilate the unimaginable.
You will spend hours or days (today would be a prime example) finding reasons to keep on living in the face of disturbing revelations that are truly disgusting, hard to believe and deeply troubling. You remind yourself that the events that created an individual with Multiple Personality Disorder do not Define you or your values.
You remind yourself that you were powerless and forced into doing things that you would normally never do of your own free will.
Then you take a few days, a week, a month and realize that this is just a small part of your past and talk yourself into being okay with this newfound fact; this little piece of you, your childhood that can help put back all the missing time and blacked out areas on your timeline.
It means being hypervigilant in avoiding triggers, aka everyday life events like crowds, darkened theaters, people laughing, crying, screaming; small children that may remind you of how young you were when you were such and such an age triggering a flashback; alterations, disagreements and any dissension are too be avoided and given a wide berth; playgrounds or children playing that make you both puzzled and jealous at the same time.
You'll spend twice as much time doing everyday chores because you switch and/or dissociate. Starting dinner in the oven is one thing but will you still be present to eat? You'll start laundry and switch. Turn on a movie only to miss the first half because you spaced out.
You'll find strange clothes on your body that you didn't but or put on in the morning. You'll have reminder notes everywhere and at least two calendars and then, some days, you just don't make it to an expected appointment.
So you get good at reasoning, making excuses, actually it's kinda like guessing why you weren't at a certain place at a certain time because you weren't conscious at the aforementioned time and the alter who was out forgot, overlooked or just plain wasn't interested in going.
I could go on and on...but I don't want to.
Today, today was the copious weeping, suicidal depressing, revelation disturbing, rotten kind of day.
I don't know how i live with myself but I somehow try and make it work.
It's a day where I want to scream My Life is a Thousand Times Worse Than Yours, you fucking little panywaist complaining about your burnt toast and 500$ car repair bill. My life is nothing like the majority. I'm really seeing that now, at the moment.
I'll never be able to write about some of the things that were done to me because they are so disgusting, grotesque, vile and, yeah, hard to believe a father would do that to his own toddler daughter, you know.
Then I'd worry about other sick, twisted perverts getting ideas, outlandish, decrepit ideas and hurting someone. I don't want that.
I'm so different, the rules don't apply to me. I don't need to seek or make myself ill by trying to conform to societies ideals, expectations and guidelines. I don't seek out or give a rats ass about what someone else thinks of me. I avoid people for the most part, without feeling an ounce of guilt. People did bad shit to me, okay, so fuck off. Alone is safest, and the least amount of stress.
I deserve...now, I deserve, want and seek a life where the abuse stops, the traumatic experiences are accidental and highly infrequent and the flashbacks happen with greater understanding and ability to handle them...and the information that they share. Flashbacks aren't bad things...just my brain and body trying to heal. And I'll continue to require hours, days, weeks to process the new information and to get okay with myself again.
It can be quite horrid. I think I've cried more in the past two weeks than all of last month. It's the rainy season, you know.
I'm learning to be nicer with myself. To give myself the quiet time and alone space, rest and extra downtime I need right now.
It is, it's um, hard to believe some of the experiences in my past that I see and feel. I know, it just is. Processing
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