I have finally settled into my job, and I think into my life. Please refrain from laughing, I plan to write here again once a week, whatever God makes heavy on my heart at the moment, or whatever He causes my heart to sing over.
Today it's about healing.
"One day you will be healed." They said, and I laughed, "Yeah when I'm dead."
I'm warning you that this post will not end with, and today I look back as healed. Nope. Hasn't happened. I'm still pretty broken, and I still laugh bitterly sometimes at those who say I will heal. I have spent hours curled into a little ball and told myself to breathe because the pain of all this will pass, it will pass, it will pass. Then I have woken up days later and found that I haven't a clue what I did in the time that is now just marked with blackness.
I have DID, Dissociative Identity Disorder, when I was young and my brain could no longer handle the trauma it was undergoing the coping mechanism it chose to use was to create personalities inside myself that could handle them. Literally, new people in my brain with names, developing histories of their own that I am not privy to.
This is Wikipedia's article on the topic, and what it has to say, is that no one really knows, and once you become like this you will most likely stay like this. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dissociative_identity_disorder
I have done things that fill me with shame, I only know I've done them because others have told me, and I trust them. Or in once case I guy asked me if I was coming home to sleep with him again, I was a little baffled I barely knew him, and then it dawned on me, perhaps I had slept with him, perhaps I just didn't remember. Then I realized that I didn't take birth control because I wasn't actually in the habit of sleeping with random people, and there were several weeks of gut wrenching fear, pain, anticipation, and wondering until my cycle came again. The consequences of this disorder reach far and wide.
It makes for a lot of loneliness, it makes for a lot of people who want to love you, but aren't sure if they can stay for the pain you continue to fling at them yet can't even remember. I'm not sure how my brain thought this was supposed to be helpful, but it did, and it's not backing down.
I'm seeing a therapist now and mostly she frustrates me and makes the people in my head angry, at least that's what she tells me. She also tells me that I can heal, that I can learn how to break down the walls and communicate with my alters, and perhaps we can work on this life together. The only problem is I believe in God and they don't. I think that healing comes from communion with people and accepting love from them, they believe in damage control which means isolation and staying away from people. I think they might kill to protect me, and this terrifies me.
However, yesterday, I had a very long talk with God, and then I curled up on my couch closed my eyes and started walking the halls of my brain. There is a great hall with lines of doors, and behind each door lives a personality, until now I didn't know how to open the doors. In fact I wasn't even sure if I could get into them, or if they could open from the outside. Yesterday I tried, and yesterday, I finally figured it out, I can communicate with my people, I can ask them why, and I can tell them what I want, and I can ask them for memories. It made my brain feel chaotic, it made me feel weird, because when I opened those doors I opened myself to their emotions, emotions they have carefully sheltered me from, but I spoke to them.
I am not healed, but the strangers in my own brain are no longer strangers. We are on first name basis and this is something. There is one room in my brain that has no doors, and I have yet to figure out how to get into it, but I feel that eventually I will, and I think whoever is in that room can tell me the most about what happened when I was a kid, and holds the keys to my healing.
I'm not healed but I am healing, and this is something, and if I can, you can too, even if that statement makes you laugh bitterly at me.
Today it's about healing.
"One day you will be healed." They said, and I laughed, "Yeah when I'm dead."
I'm warning you that this post will not end with, and today I look back as healed. Nope. Hasn't happened. I'm still pretty broken, and I still laugh bitterly sometimes at those who say I will heal. I have spent hours curled into a little ball and told myself to breathe because the pain of all this will pass, it will pass, it will pass. Then I have woken up days later and found that I haven't a clue what I did in the time that is now just marked with blackness.
I have DID, Dissociative Identity Disorder, when I was young and my brain could no longer handle the trauma it was undergoing the coping mechanism it chose to use was to create personalities inside myself that could handle them. Literally, new people in my brain with names, developing histories of their own that I am not privy to.
This is Wikipedia's article on the topic, and what it has to say, is that no one really knows, and once you become like this you will most likely stay like this. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dissociative_identity_disorder
I have done things that fill me with shame, I only know I've done them because others have told me, and I trust them. Or in once case I guy asked me if I was coming home to sleep with him again, I was a little baffled I barely knew him, and then it dawned on me, perhaps I had slept with him, perhaps I just didn't remember. Then I realized that I didn't take birth control because I wasn't actually in the habit of sleeping with random people, and there were several weeks of gut wrenching fear, pain, anticipation, and wondering until my cycle came again. The consequences of this disorder reach far and wide.
It makes for a lot of loneliness, it makes for a lot of people who want to love you, but aren't sure if they can stay for the pain you continue to fling at them yet can't even remember. I'm not sure how my brain thought this was supposed to be helpful, but it did, and it's not backing down.
I'm seeing a therapist now and mostly she frustrates me and makes the people in my head angry, at least that's what she tells me. She also tells me that I can heal, that I can learn how to break down the walls and communicate with my alters, and perhaps we can work on this life together. The only problem is I believe in God and they don't. I think that healing comes from communion with people and accepting love from them, they believe in damage control which means isolation and staying away from people. I think they might kill to protect me, and this terrifies me.
However, yesterday, I had a very long talk with God, and then I curled up on my couch closed my eyes and started walking the halls of my brain. There is a great hall with lines of doors, and behind each door lives a personality, until now I didn't know how to open the doors. In fact I wasn't even sure if I could get into them, or if they could open from the outside. Yesterday I tried, and yesterday, I finally figured it out, I can communicate with my people, I can ask them why, and I can tell them what I want, and I can ask them for memories. It made my brain feel chaotic, it made me feel weird, because when I opened those doors I opened myself to their emotions, emotions they have carefully sheltered me from, but I spoke to them.
I am not healed, but the strangers in my own brain are no longer strangers. We are on first name basis and this is something. There is one room in my brain that has no doors, and I have yet to figure out how to get into it, but I feel that eventually I will, and I think whoever is in that room can tell me the most about what happened when I was a kid, and holds the keys to my healing.
I'm not healed but I am healing, and this is something, and if I can, you can too, even if that statement makes you laugh bitterly at me.
