I am feeling panicked this morning because I woke up realizing I probably have less than 20 years to live based on my current age.
My kids’ birthdays come and go so quickly, it feels like there is no time at all before my time is up. Time is a very strange thing to me. Always has been.
My younger parts who are mostly between 5-8 years old feel particularly freaked out. I know it is not fair to them. They are children who want what children want. So, now, not only do they have to accept they will never get what they want (the love and attention of a parent), they also have to deal with the reality that they will die as children.
My inside children feel almost the same as my outside children, except my inside children don’t get older. I can feel and see their little bodies when they are out. They are as real to me as my outside children, except they are even closer to me because they are always with me in a more connected way.
I always feel much younger than I really am. I feel puzzled by people starting to put me in the “old” category.
Honestly, I still feel like I am 23 and just starting my life.
I feel like I was 23, and then went on a long acid trip, and lost the life I was entitled to. No actual drugs were involved to create this missing life.
This age confusion is something not often talked about in the world of Dissociative Identity Disorder.
I am not sure anyone I know with DID feels anywhere close to their biological age.
My life is almost over, and so much of it has been ruined by my family of origin. Yes, I know how victimy that sounds, but it is the truth.
I can’t get back the life I have lost to dissociation. I have to decide if going forward there is any reason to try to do therapy to heal from my childhood. Maybe it is never going to happen, and I just need to accept my life and move on.
Of course, moving on without therapy is not exactly a pretty picture either.
There is no winning in this battle.
I survived, but for what?
What meaning will I have in the remaining days of my life?
I live to give my outside kids a good life. I know I should probably have other reasons for living, but it seems out of my reach most days.
I wish I was 23 and had my two kids and was where I am at in my therapy now. Wish there was such thing as a do-over.
Alas, the reality is grim, a situation I am so familiar with.
Tick, tick, tick.