Jul 1
the psychic damage i am about to put myself through (typing up twelve years’ worth of personal journals starting from when i was seventeen)
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the psychic damage i am about to put myself through (typing up twelve years’ worth of personal journals starting from when i was seventeen)
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so much of the experience of having undiagnosed/unrealized DID is just being confused about yourself all the time. not having a consistent sense of your identity, not understanding your own emotions or where they’re coming from, not understanding why you feel so disconnected from yourself and the world around you, doing things and then not remembering them, or remembering them but feeling like it wasn’t you, having a confusing and contradictory self-narrative that seems to change all the time, etc… to be honest, this continues even after you realize what’s going on, but at least then you can start trying to make sense of things. you can go, okay, so this is how my alter understands her experiences, and this is how it differs from mine. you can start to recover memories you’ve lost, start to integrate things that had been separated from you, or at least come to acknowledge their existence. but before that? complete nonsense. you’re unable to understand your own life because so much of that life is being hidden from you.
the thing about having a family with insidious gossips is that it makes me wish that I was a past version of myself, before the heartbreak and the relationship and the losses and the failures: a version of myself that was boring, not worth talking about. a version of myself that’s been gone for almost a year now, a stranger that I wouldn’t recognize in the street.
Journaling and listening to music on my MP3 player has me feeling like a kid again.
i havent felt real and its driving me nuts but also the feeling’s so ludicrous i wonder if it is just a sentence / word / non-feeling. but still feels oddly
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today i washed the towel you last used at my house.
it doesn't smell like you but the trace of you is undeniable.
i hugged the stuffed animal you gave me, the one you named.
and cried because this is just day five of missing you every day.
every song i write is like the songs you like until i change it to be mine.
will you still be mine, in a month? or belong to something else?
what if we forget what made us beautiful, it would be no one's fault.
i want only you, what if not wanting to lose you is our downfall?
when i worked at the campus galleries in college we had to lock up the gallery if we needed to use the restroom bc it was only one attendant per gallery.
one day it'd been unusually busy and i hadn't had a chance to use the restroom so when there was finally no visitors i immediately took the opportunity to Go. as i was locking the gallery doors these two ladies walked up and asked if we were open. i said that we were but that i was just stepping out real quick to use the restroom, and that i'd be back in less than five minutes. one of them protested and asked why i couldn't just let them in, i told her that i couldn't leave visitors unattended in the gallery, and reassured her that i wouldn't be long. she huffed and puffed and i went to go do my thing. the restrooms were literally just outside of the gallery and i just had to pee so i was back after not even three minutes. i unlocked the doors, thanked them for waiting and let them in.
BUT! and this is the part that always comes back to me:
on their way out, the woman who'd gotten upset came up to me and apologized for how she'd behaved earlier. she explained that she'd been at the dentist earlier and couldn't eat until later so she was hungry and her mouth was uncomfortable, and she said that even so that was not an excuse for how she talked to me earlier especially because i hadn't done anything wrong, really. and in all my years working with The Public i had never had a Customer apologize to me for being shitty, and admitting out loud that her shitty day didn't justify being shitty to me.
and i think that's what being a good person is about. it's not about never hurting others or being unreasonable, and it's not always doing The Right Thing, because i think being a shitty person is just part of being A Person. instead, it's about having enough consciousness, or perspective, to know when you're lashing out for unrelated reasons and being able to say, out loud, "sorry about that, that had nothing to do with you"
I have an extreme hatred of my dreams.
I try very hard to keep my thoughts in order. It's important that the volatile and unhealthy ones are quickly dealt with so that I avoid allowing them to cascade into worse patterns. While I am mostly getting very good at keeping my emotions in line, dreams throw a wrench into that problem by continually choosing the pepper by brain with bullshit I have already handled, bringing up people and events that incite those unhealthy and volatile. They never seem to give me happy images, only horror and reminders of things that used to be happy but long since soured. It makes my dreams feel less like an unconscious expression of my mind and more like a malicious attack.
The worst part is I can't tell how insane what I just wrote is honestly.
