I’m sitting here writing this and I feel like I’m not completely alive at the moment. I realized yesterday that I had missed another piece of why I came apart later. A few days ago, I had been driving to my doctor’s office and I passed a school. The kids were out playing during recess. The school had enough similarities in the color of the brick and the layout, that it reminded me of one of the schools I went to during the time my mom pulled me in and out of schools. It was a bad time then and I was triggered by seeing the school. I brushed it off though, but I think now, that it stayed with me.
I have to remember that my DID and abuse issues aren’t limited to sexual abuse, there was the non-stop fear of my mother, fear of being hit, of saying the wrong thing. The constant effort to teach the muscles of my face to display no emotion at all so she wouldn’t hit me. I’ve started crying as I type this and you know that I don’t cry. I’m so tired of this weakness. Then the thing with my uncle’s nickname yesterday. I gave in to several compulsive behaviors and I came out of it with a question that is incredibly disturbing. Would an abuser kiss their victim? It’s the second time that has come up for me. It causes much confusion because kissing is supposed to be about love and affection. So, if someone kissing you while doing things doesn’t that mean that they care about you? Then doesn’t that mean that they weren’t trying to hurt you? Maybe they loved you. I don’t understand, I’m confused.
I tried to hurt myself but I didn’t do what I really wanted to do, I was too scared that I’d mess up and end up in the E.R. So, the pain is still there and today the world looks very strange. I realize how much of a freak I am. I am. I’m not normal in any way and I don’t fit in to this world, the world of my friends who have never experienced any of this and don’t have bipolar disorder, or DID, or even depression issues. People may say, “You don’t know if they do ir not” but I do know with most of my acquaintances. I know because many of them look at me strangle if any kind of mental topic comes up and they judge others who have even mild depression. I’m a freak. I do things that disgust me and just want it to stop. I can’t take the knife that I want and stab myself with it because I’d end up in the hospital and we’re broke this month. My in-laws are coming over this afternoon and I have to pretend to be normal because my mother-in-law thinks her daughter is worse off than me. I dreamt about my mother trying to hug me last night and it made me so sick. I don’t know what to do because I can’t escape, there’s nowhere to go. I’m crying so hard now that I can barely see the computer screen and my husband’s out at the moment. What does someone like me do? I’m too broken to be normal, there’s too much wrong. I can’t be bipolar and have DID and PTSD and stupid other letters. I can’t have memories that are tainted and function and pretend. I can’t walk around being triggered my everything I see. And what’s amazing is that today is the first day this week that the sun has been shining. Everything is so bright and beautiful outside and I’m dead inside. Sometimes I hate sunny days. I found my grandmother’s body on a sunny day. They don’t always bring good things. I want to leave. I want to go out-of-town and get away from this place but I have nowhere to go. I have to stay here and entertain. I have to pretend because that’s what people want to see, it’s what they need me to do because anything else would be inconvenient. I wouldn’t want to not pretend anyway because then people would see me, I mean really see me and I can’t let that happen.