Gone but not forgotten.

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?

Resurrected Journal Entry #3

Disclaimer: This is an exact translation of a written journal entry I recently located and found essential to my recovery. I didn't keep any consistency in my journal activities over the years. When I opened and read these few entries I really wish I had. Being that it is an exact transfer for authenticity reasons, please excuse the grammar issues. 

01/15/13

I wonder if it is a regular occurrence in one's life to reach this point? This point when you've done so much wrong in your life that even when you've set yourself straight for the first true time (I feel) in my life that it can't even be seen. When everyone who matters has such a skewed or jaded view of you that your right will never really truly matter. What does a person do at that point? Do you just give up on life, on trying, on those people that matter? I have to ask myself am I really doing any good to anyone by being alive or around? I'm no good when I'm being a fucktard. I'm no good when I'm being the best me I can be. I feel defeated as a person today. Its strange, I suppose, how realizing all in one moment that you love a person who can never fully love you back, not because of them, but because of what you had done to them. To be reminded that you have no trust, no faith, and no truly unconditional love anywhere in your marriage or life. Its absolutely earth shaking. The world I walked on, breathed for, its broken and missing. I don't know how to proceed.

So I am a person without faith, conviction, the trust of loved ones, family beyond that which I created for myself, and most detrimental of all, I am a person without myself. As Dr. N explained I am a manifestation of my own creation. Why couldn't I have created a better version? Would that have been too much to ask for? Sometimes I wonder how much weight a soul can take before it breaks.....

There will be a photo of the actual journal entry posted to correlate...coming soon. If you're reading this please let me know. Tell me I'm not alone. I'm here to tell you you're not alone. Is anyone out there? 

Resurrected Journal Entry #2

Disclaimer: This is an exact translation of a written journal entry I recently located and found essential to my recovery. I didn't keep any consistency in my journal activities over the years. When I opened and read these few entries I really wish I had. Being that it is an exact transfer for authenticity reasons, please excuse the grammar issues. 
IDENTITY PROTECTION: C = My Husband

01/10/13

Do I feel emotion? I'm not angry, sad, upset, happy, or any other known emotion concerning anything from my childhood and even into my early adult years. I do not dwell, I do not agonize, I don't acknowledge in an emotional way anything that I imagine I should. I feel love or what I believe love feels like towards C. I love my children but it is an entirely different love than I have for C. I assume that is not entirely unusual. I neither have, nor pursue or attempt to maintain any relationships outside of my core family here at home. I'm not sure if any of these thoughts matter. It seems odd to me though.

Did my Mother die in 1999? C says the woman I knew and loved as a Mother died in her accident. He believes I may need to grieve a loss in order to find peace in my life. That makes sense on what I'm going to call a surface level of thought. The deeper I dig into that idea the less I find myself missing that woman before she died. My memories tell me she was never a Mother. Sure I could argue she was better prior to her accident but that seems to only be because I was a child and didn't know anything else nor the difference between right and wrong for parents.

I was always alone in this world. Sure I've very seldom ever really been alone by the definition but I've always been alone. Abandoned in a world surrounded by people but alone. I was the only person I had. Sometimes I believe I try to cause myself to either be alone or feel alone again. I'm programmed to only have myself. I stuff emotions, don't speak up, internalize to and unhealthy state of mind. I don't forgive but instead I try to forget. I've forgotten my life away so that I don't have to feel. Are true emotions too much for my already bogged down mind? I don't really understand why I'm so different than what I imagine everyone else, in general, is.

Since I never knew "normal" do I make up these wild standards that I deem normal to be and use my inability to obtain or reach these standards as failure? Its possible.

Maybe because I wear a facade of positivism and portray myself as a put together person, even though I know I'm notion the inside. This brings on a lot of my own inner turmoil. Do I pretend to be a completely different person than I recall am or am i really that persona I try to be but I'm missing something (confidence duh) that allows me to see me the way everyone else does? Uhg! I'm getting no where.

I tried to have a conversation with C last night about my Mom and issues, like I said earlier. Anyway, a few minutes into the talk I became SUPER uncomfortable. I was frigidity and anxious. Why is that? I know it was shortly after I considered the thought that there is something worse than I can remember, that I cant remember. There is something messing me up. I still do and rather would believe I have mental disorders such as bipolar and/or a personality disorder. That makes more sense to me. Besides these things are genetic anyway. Just consider who my parents are for a second with me. My father is a permanent register to the sex offender database. He spent the better part of my life in prison, or trying/succeeding at escaping. According to him that is. He's not even on my birth certificate. My Mother....gosh I need more room. How could I not be fucked up?

There will be a photo of the actual journal entry posted to correlate...coming soon. If you're reading this please let me know. Tell me I'm not alone. I'm here to tell you you're not alone. Is anyone out there? 

Resurrected Journal Entry #1

Disclaimer: This is an exact translation of a written journal entry I recently located and found essential to my recovery. I didn't keep any consistency in my journal activities over the years. When I opened and read these few entries I really wish I had. Being that it is an exact transfer for authenticity reasons, please excuse the grammar issues. 


01/09/13

So here I am.....turning 28 shortly and still searching for myself. For answers, for what I imagine normal is supposed to be. Does this happen for everyone? I can't imagine that it does, at least I hope not. Its a terrible feeling and thought process to have and cycle though over and over again. Some days I feel indefinitely lost, just trying to direct myself forward. Other times I'm driving a race car in life. Speeding through and missing it all. Am I lost? Did i ever have a "me" to lost? I guess that's why I'm supposed to journal....could I really find myself in these pages?

I'm suppose looking back in time to childhood, (which feels so far beyond my reach I must add) I never felt lost, alone would be a better term. Forever I hear myself reassuring my sisters that Mom wasn't always that way. Before her accident she was a good personal and Mother I say. Then I go on to try to explain to them, or whoever I'm talking to that she was just gone a lot. We had chores but they made us responsible. She only spanked me once but I deserved it. I was really making excuses, (well still am) for her, My Mother. I haven't a clue why! Why don't I hate her? I'm not even mad at her nor do I blame her for anything. Strange. Anyway... alone. I felt alone. I didn't see being alone and feeling alone as a negative. I just knew alone meant responsibility. I was in charge. I handled alone well. I learned to feed myself, to care for myself, and when my sisters came I learned to care for them and quickly.

I'm still not sure how this will help me. My rambling memories wont direct me. I don't need to find sympathy. I don't want to be told I've come a long way, or should be proud of. Of what? Of living? Making Mistakes? Hurting people? Lying or stealing. I'm not proud of who I am. I am a sick, mean person.

There will be a photo of the actual journal entry posted to correlate...coming soon. If you're reading this please let me know. Tell me I'm not alone. I'm here to tell you you're not alone. Is anyone out there?