Others may not like who they are, but at least they know. Don’t take that for granted because there are others of us who get taken by surprise when we learn who we are.
My life is filled with amnesia. I can’t remember huge periods of time and important events in my childhood, and on an almost daily basis, I can’t remember if I have eaten lunch or what I even did for most of the day. I have to actually work to remember if I had lunch and what it was. Most of the time I can’t remember what I said 3 sentences back.
Yeah, I guess I sound a bit whiney tonight.
This week started with me suddenly experiencing a new memory about my childhood 30 minutes before my therapy session. I have no idea where it came from. It just entered my consciousness while I was getting dressed.
For those of you who aren’t versed in DID Land, a new memory is up there with an atomic bomb going off in your head. Other parts of ourselves typically hold these memories from our consciousness to protect us.
These memories stay hidden from consciousness because they are awful. They are unimaginable. They bring tears to your f-ing therapist’s face. They bring anger and suicidality and sadness to me.
People don’t just get DID. They go through bloody hell to get this “fascinating disorder.” I always knew I would find out things about myself that I didn’t know and didn’t want to know, but Jesus, some things are just too horrific to accept. And I can’t even say “well maybe this isn’t true” on this one because there is no way I could know what is in the memory without seeing it. They don’t even have this on tv or wherever one goes to see horrific things.
I am mad, really f-ing mad. This memory is not me, but it is. I don’t want it in my history, but it is. I can’t tell my children, but what if they find out.
This memory makes me a monster. It makes me one of them. And the BS that people shovel at you to say “but you were just a kid” is NOT what I want to hear.
Some things are just unacceptable, which is why I have been teetering on the suicidal edge this week. I mean, how can I live with myself. My own children would disown me if they knew who I really am.
My whole adult life I have tried to live a life that I wouldn’t be ashamed or horrified by my actions. Don’t do what you can’t publicly own. Ha! How ironic for me.
This week has been shitty and a good reminder that this world can be an awful place sometimes. The only thing that has kept me alive is the beauty and innocence I see in my children.
I fear my future. I fear this is the beginning of an avalanche. The choice is mine. I can try to stuff it down and live a clueless, empty life, or I can continue figuring out just who the hell I am and hope I can live with it and be authentic.
Don’t take it for granted if you know who you are. There are those of us who are existing just one step above robots. It is a terrible way to go threw life, even if you have what looks like a normal, successful life.
Pray that the truth sets me free one day. I don’t think there is anything else that can be done.