I’ve been The Nothing lately. There have been brief periods of flashbacks and memories. Mostly, I’m blank or angry(memories of the alters bleeding through?) with my ANP(apparently normal part)/Host??? working away doing things to care for myself. I lost touch with my other selves or the traumatic amnesia is back. It’s very confusing. There is not much contact aside from the funny one. I think I made a big mistake…and I am pretty sad about it if this is the case. I wrote about it my in my private diary. Here is an excerpt:
Feeling like The Nothing. Blank. Not much memories. Feeling angry sometimes but then back to blank. The angry creeps in and builds up. my mind catches on a thought and I get more and more pissed until I have to vent it out somehow with writing in my diary, blog, twitter, or some safe destruction of something. Dissociating hard so there is the separation or I have lost touch with the other parts. Lots of headaches and anxiety again. Barely sleeping with the heightened anxiety comes the insomnia. I cannot presently remember the abuse I experienced as a little girl. I know it happened because this part I am not found out about it when I was 10 years old at that assembly.
I remember crying all the sudden as the detective was talking about sexual child abuse. It felt like my brain had broken. A rush of memories came back but I can’t remember them now. I just remember it hurt like hell, I cried, maybe screamed, and ran out of the room. I couldn’t make it stop. It was something terrifying was happening to me but no one could tell but me. My body was screaming with pain and I felt like my head was going to explode from the pressure. It was a living nightmare. Then it all goes black.
I didn’t pass out. I just have no memory of what happened next. It’s blank for a long time with a few spotty memories way after that incident of remembering but nothing I can grasp onto for very long. It’s like the memories slip through my fingers and fade if I try to remember more. It sinks back into my mind and I can’t retrieve it again. My Mom says that the school called her to come get me. I was crying and no one could calm me down. I was out of school for weeks. Went to therapy for awhile. She says I haven’t been the same since. She says it with a sadness like when you talk about someone you don’t see anymore or has passed away. She tries to hide it but I can tell she misses who I was before I remembered the abuse. I think I would miss me too if I could remember more of myself.
As The Nothing I try to get in touch with the parts of me that hold memories. I try to talk to myself to try to open up. I write to myself in my diary. My body seems to vibrate and I stumble back in my mind a little. Not really stumbling physically, there is just the sensation of falling backward all the sudden. Like falling back in your chair without warning. It causes a lot of anxiety and headaches. I watched more videos on dissociative identity disorder (DID) today to try to figure some things out. Many of the things I learned about seem so much like what I experience of have experienced in the past. The subject matter is all familiar and I totally get the DID jokes. Like it makes too much sense and is too familiar for it to not be what is going on with me. Maybe it is not DID but perhaps DDNOS or OSDD as it is called now. I used to go right into terror and panic attacks when I explored this.
There used to be voices. It was loud in my head. I would have conversations with all sorts of different “perspectives” like a big round table conversation or a round group of chairs. Not everyone was in a chair. Many contradicting opinions. I could tell the little ones were around but playing, sleeping, doing little kid stuff. The funny one is still there sometimes. They pop up every once in awhile and make me laugh. Sometimes I share the joke. Many times the joke is only funny to me. An inside joke, HA! Literally. Anyway, I didn’t realize until later that not everyone has this going on in their heads or that I had this going on for years on and off. It either all seemed normal for me or I forgot due to the switching/amnesia. I’m not really sure.
The inner critic is there at times still and rages on at me from time to time. They are like all the abusers and trolls I’ve ever known wrapped up in one very angry and blaming part. Other than that it has been pretty silent. I am just here right now, with a headache. A headache no amount of ib prophen or Tylenol can’t touch. The only thing that helps is rest and cutting down on the input.
When thinking about trying to discover and talk to my possible alters or parts I can’t access I get hit with the thought that maybe they decided to open up to me but I made a big mistake. (Right now my limbs are cold and trying to go numb. Dissociation is threatening again. My vision is getting blurry)
*****Have to take a break for a few minutes for some selfcare/grounding…OK, back to writing this blog entry.*****
My big mistake was that I had decided on total integration. I wants to get all the parts together and integrate so that all the memories were in one place and accessible. No more memory gaps. Then I decided that Sarah Blake had to go and I used the harsh language that I was killing her and ingesting her, like eating her. Of course, I tried to merge with this part and I though I had. She ran apparently and I think I may have scared the other parts off back into hiding from me. Wow, I know how this sounds even to me but that’s my current theory. It may make sense to other’s living with DID/DDNOS/OSDD.
*****Yikes, chest pains, hang on…*****
I think the funny one is around sometimes because that part isn’t scared of anything and will crack a joke right there in anyone’s face including any abuser, enemy, whatever. Like, bring it. The dead one is still there too. I feel her. She looks like she is sleeping, curled up in a ball on the floor, cold, but she is dead. She has nothing left to fear either.
Anyway, since writing those blog posts and making the videos about wanting to integrate and killing Sarah Blake (pt2) It’s been quiet. DUH FOR ME, like seriously?!? I would be scared too and not talk to me. In my effort to try to fix things I bumbled along like an ignorant tourist with a chainsaw when what I needed was a microscope and tweezers to work on pealing back the layers in my head. I needed to go slow and build trust but I acted like a big jerk that thought they knew better. I get it though, I was harsh, and stomped in like a damn bear in a china shop. I feel bad that I may have scared the others. I’m really sad about it and I miss them. They were created to protect me and now they are protecting parts of me from ME.
I sure do fuck up a lot during this healing process but I learn. The parts of me that I can’t access may want to talk to me again after I am more gentle. I have apologized and am dedicated to not only doing better from here on out but making any restitution as well. I need to change. I need to be more patient and compassionate. I feel like they are listening because my body has been reacting to me writing this entire entry. I can barely hold still in my chair, I have that falling back feeling, and my feet are going numb again…
Sorry doesn’t mean shit unless real solid changes are made. This also doesn’t need to happen again. I learned the hard way that this is not the way to go about things with myself. I need gentle loving care. Mass amounts of compassionate care! Not tough love, not cannibalism. FUCK tough love anyway. I’ve had too many years hating and being cruel to myself as well as others being cruel to me too. I am learning and relearning what I need to heal.
This is where I have to stop. I won’t be sharing the apology I wrote in my diary to myself. I think it’s too much to share it now or maybe ever. Admitting that I made a mistake seems like the right thing to do. Like, might dance a little now that I’ve let that out. The blood is moving properly through my body again and I’m not feeling cold or numb.
If you have read down this far, thank you for hanging in there with me. This was very difficult to write but I do feel better sharing it. To type it out again after writing part of this in my diary helped. Maybe it was the repetition. Maybe I got through to myself more the second time around. Maybe I needed myself to admit publicly that I fucked up and I an genuinely sad and sorry about it. Maybe it’s because I know some of you will reach out to me and I won’t feel so fucked up about it all. One this is definitive, writing this stuff out helps. Expressing these thoughts and feelings is helping me to feel better and get a better understanding of myself. You are part of that, reading this, thank you for being there.