I've been on a rapid decline since a few hours after my Independence Day post yesterday. It's seemed my mind/body had been encapsulated in this lock of a dissociation state for too long and just fell from this almost elevated place of no where, while at the same time everywhere.
I hadn't slept more than a few sporadic hours here and there, ate and drank barely required amounts necessary to basic survival in at least a month. I was locked away within myself seeing, feeling, experiencing a world out of my control. Flashes bombarding me. Forcing feelings down my throat. Maintaining life around me had become nearly impossible over the last 4 days. I could no longer drive, hardly function. Everything was culminating to this moment.
It seemed acceptance and comprehension were necessary though I was looking for a reason to blame myself, while seeking to forgive someone, something else. I didn't know what the missing link had been. I searched and searched, refusing to accept that I had split my personality and called my alter a Mother for survival. Why would I be idolizing the worst of my abusers in a lifetime of many.
I wanted to login and tell you where I was. That I needed someone to tell me I was as crazy as I thought. To write in that/those moments but I couldn't grab on long enough to get any words to form. Denial was comfortable, safer. This couldn't have been my entire life...could it have?
I found a journal labeled "pathways to my sanity" that seemed to verify completely that I had finally understood a piece of my life that I never could. I spent the night wondering how, why that happened. How sick am I? To no avail. It was a two week period of time, 2 1/2 years ago where I had gotten so close to the answers that I did yesterday but couldn't make the dots connect. I guess at the time I wasn't ready for this....
By 1030 a.m. on 07/05/15, less than 3 hours of sleep in 48 hours, I fell. I fell and the safety net was myself. I had never relied on myself. It has since been a rough few hours between wake and sleep. Emotions are exhausting. I had been forced to examine truth without distraction thanks to our super fun friend PTSD. It forced me to actually look at what I needed to see. Everything hurts, my body, my head, this dark depression that seemed to strip me of life the only life I remember and debilitate me in a way I've never felt. It's just pain/anguish. That's I all I feel.... I feel? I do!
I'm distant emotionally from the man who I used to find all my comfort in. He had betrayed me. He pushed so far that I had to get and order of protection against him I had spent years blind to his truth, my truth. He abused me, physically, emotionally and sexually but I kept going back for 12 years!! I have spent years blind, lost, unfeeling and alone. Processing feelings as a 30 year old woman who has no idea how to handle them is, well different. I'm sad, angry, and betrayed. Consider me like a very pregnant, incredibly hormonal with an understanding that this mess of feelings is for a reason. I laugh and cry simultaneously as I sit in the bath alternating between putting words together here, reading a book called "Trauma and Recovery" by Judith Lewis Herman (great read by the way, super informative), speaking to a man I question how I really feel about, though I can't help feeling a need for in my current condition.
I like that I can say I am feeling. Can you tell?
Medically it seems I had a common dissociation labeled vertical splitting due to the excessive trauma in childhood. From what I've been able to find in my memories the last time I remember a feeling was 22 years ago. Uhg... no wonder it hurts so much.
Grief and emotion has literally consumed me at moments as I identify with myself. The pain and abuse that I've suffered, the feelings I could not handle over the course of my life have returned. The comfort I sought through my fantasies was my will to survive. I am now one. My feelings are my own. Seems I finally understand so much, so many of the questions I asked myself my whole life have been answered, only to leave more. What I am learning about dissociation and C-PTSD is that the second I stop asking and answering questions I have ceased once again to exist. A feeling I'm all too familiar with.
One sentence (3rd to last) in my previous journals I mention above seems to answer it all.
Jan 15, 2013 "As Dr. N explained I am a manifestation of my own creation..." I wrote that, I said that, clearly I hear him but didn't see it then. I was still locked in self doubt I was looking for something bigger. In complete and utter denial. Separated from self. I understand now. All of the answers I searched for were literally right there.
I'd like to share the journal entries to show you how close the answers I sought were. The answers that riveted through my bones in disbelief, creating a chink in my armor of denial, finally making me SEE truly see! I will date them by their dates of entry in the journal.
I had wanted to fill in so much other stuff about my life thus far first, there is so much to fill in, but I need to share the link between yesterday and Jan. 2013 first. I had no recollection of writing what I had back then aside from some matching memories.
Am I crazy? Am I alone? Is anyone out there?
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