The mistaken survival of the soul-less child

 

681b5a8aa699a740d4474eb363281471I have walked through my entire life a fraud. A nonexistent soul using the mortal body of no one. I am a fraud because from time-to-time, I would use this body to pretend as if I was a normal human being. Though, I always return to my place of nothingness. The place where those without souls return.

As a child I tried my best to be as invisible as possible. I tried being very still and quiet. I do not want to be noticed because I know I do not belong to this world. This world is confusing and cruel and scary. I don’t like it, so I am happy to not really belong to it. Yet, somehow, I got stuck with this mortal body that always seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There is no making sense of the life this mortal body was given. The people who come in and out of it. The constant desire for it to die.

To be human is to claw your way through everything to survive. This soul-less being does not wish to survive this cruel human world.

This body does not know love, comfort, happiness, safety, or anything that would be good or pleasurable. This body knows darkness, sadness, hatred, pain, evil, death, anger, and a strong desire to turn out the lights on this mortal body.

Without hope, there is death.

This soul-less body was created from birth with lies, pain, shame, fear, and brutality. It was programed to be obedient, to never disobey, and to serve the greater human species to which it did not belong.

How can an entire species be so cruel, even to the soul-less body who was never one of them? But it is true, and that is the way it is.

A wrecked soul-less child body who mistakenly survived. It was never supposed to survive. There is not upside for this being. There is no better. No nothing. Especially a real life on the human planet.

It is so confusing to figure out what to do with this fraud of a soul-less body. Oh children, why did you survive? I suppose some instinct, or maybe they made you with their confusing lies. I don’t blame you. I promise I hold no anger toward you. You were only babies and toddlers and youngsters doing what you thought you were supposed to do.

Now we have this fraudulent body built through evil lies, and there is nothing for it to do but to lay in bed until it dies. Oh wise one, you are correct in that we could take it from this earth sooner by our own hands. But, they say it will ruin the human children in this new family.

I know we don’t belong. But there is a speck of dust, maybe love, in this soul-less body that makes me think how sad it would be for these human children to be ruined by our actions.

We may know we never belonged, and wouldn’t have ever wanted to belong to this world, but now we have somehow become connected to these two children who look to us to keep behaving in a fraudulent way because they need us to.

Why, with no soul inside, do we have to always be the good guys? Why?

Because that’s the way it is.

 

Uncovering the truth about myself sucks


My life with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) has made it so I don’t really know who the hell I am. I say that with anger, because I am bloody mad about it at the moment.

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.

Back into a corner again

Suicide is an unfortunate part of having DID. For me, the feelings, thoughts, and plans come on a regular basis.

Yesterday I had a new memory that I cannot deny or talk myself into believing it isn’t real. There is no other way to have this memory except to have experienced it. It is not anything one’s mind could make up, or that you would see on tv.

I am having an unbelievably hard time accepting my role in this memory. It is not okay, no matter how much you try to manipulate your mind with some bull shit explanation. It just isn’t acceptable.

I believe I should not be allowed to live on this planet with this experience. 

I think what would my children think if they knew this about me. It is not something they could ever know. No one could ever know. It is something unbelievable, so maybe people would just think I am crazy instead. Still, I would never want my children to contemplate this. They wouldn’t understand. Rightfully so.

If I can’t understand it, why would they?

I am backed in a corner once again.

Exit

Serial killers aren’t born that way, they experience a lifetime of shit that turns them into those people. Yet, most of society blames them and believes they should be extinguished from the planet.

Everyone experiences their own lifetime of stuff that turns them into who they are. There is no questioning our experiences shape who we become.

This makes us different from one another. The woman who was abused as a child may find that if she found out her husband had been abusing her little girl, she might want him dead, and may indeed chop him up into pieces and put him in her basement freezer. Or maybe her experiences didn’t turn her so dark, so she just throws him out and calls the police. 

The point is, we all become a product of our environment, and some of our DNA. I lean more toward the environment as the greater influencer.

So, if you are subjected to horrific abuse and mind control, should you really stay on this planet as this potentially dangerous person you became?

If you did it once or twice or more as a child,  who is to say you won’t do it as an adult? No one, if they are truly honest. Of course,  we all know we don’t operate on honesty as a society. 

The ones we pay to say the nice things to us, the therapists, they are full of shit. If they continue to say nice things, we keep paying them. It’s a living.

We are who we are, and some of us would be doing the world a favor by exiting.