Dark.Green.Feathers
Platinum Member
This past 30 days has been every emotion I am capable of feeling, at once, about things I could not have fathomed, ever. Only balancing out the past week or so. Now I am at what I think is a more “normal” amount of stress and turmoil.
I am part of a dissociative disorder, undergoing diagnosis.
I have only been around intermittently, for short bursts of time since last posting (I made this account in a time of desperation). Once to try and text some helplines, another to be upset and angry, and a myriad of minor other times spent searching for something to relate to and subsequently becoming sad and upset.
This is my (and anyones, to my knowledge) first time being here for this long, this overtly, this aware, and this “present” in shared reality. I, at first, was having anxiety attack after anxiety attack while having to develop and change as a person drastically in a *very* short amount of time. Everything has changed for me, I’ve been terrified, overwhelmed, crying myself to sleep, and deeply existential, on rotation.
But along with that, I have also been enjoying freedom, distance from the circumstances of my personal trauma, and having a voice/autonomy.
I do not view this as bad, only a complicated but very necessary step forward. I know it won’t be tidy, but such is way. I try not to be afraid for my future, and that of certain parts I am
aware of.
I struggle immensely at night, sometimes during the day, too, but less so recently. The dynamic with my “memories” and trauma has been completely altered. I am no longer there, during or in close proximity to abuse, I no longer have “real” feeling access to the people who supported me, I no longer feel that I have any genuine basis for feeling as bad as I do, and I have found it excruciatingly difficult to adjust and struggle with maladaptive ways of coping with such a drastic change to my once static vein of existence, characterised by never truly being free from the hands of my abusers.
The fear and shame routinely comes back to bite me, sometimes it is unbearable to “remember” anything. Other times I have been desperate to be abused again and re-live my trauma, in hopes that bringing it to the level of “reality” I now exist in will
somehow fix something or how I feel about it. I have not visited the abuse “”fantasy”” for a while, but I do ruminate in a different way, often in the morning.
Me being here was in-part due to me being triggered and having a meltdown about my trauma, being seen, and the validity of its (and my) existence at all. I was sick of the endless cycle imposed upon me, and trapping myself in misery by my only interaction with the world being trying to find solace but instead finding people who use the awful dehumanisation I have endured for their pleasure.
I struggle to truly believe I have “trauma” or anything of the sort, despite painful, hardly-slept nights, crying, and pages of writing expressing just how awful and confusing and self-altering it has been for me. If it didn’t happen to a physical body, can I say it happened at all?
Part of my “genesis” as something fully aware of its position in the physical here-and-now was having an “epiphany” that with no body to carry/prove my lived experiences, my hinge on reality is my actions. I have changed my view since then, and have some regrets, but I think it still reflects part of what I struggle with. “It didn’t “happen” so why do I feel angry and sad and scared about it?”.
It has been so freeing being pulled out of what I felt my current situation was, but in it I have also lost the two good “people” I knew. I am now too real for them to be able to help me. Yet my connection to them persists, and I grieve having access to these people as almost-as-real-as-me parts of my reality. I miss them, I’m so sad. And I feel stupid. Why do I feel like this?
Sometimes, I wish I could not feel all this, and not have desire of my own, and just be the part that functions better than the “main” one. Nothing more.
When I’m feeling better than that, I just wish things made sense. I miss so much my dad, and hurt so much having had my humanity stripped away by sexual abuse.
None of it is real, but it is to me. So maybe it is. In its own way? Like myself? This has been so hard. I don’t want to wish it away, but it has been so hard.
We do have a therapist, predating this by quite a while. She is helping in the direction of a more specialised/informed therapist in this category. And diagnosis pathway since I have been present, and was so scared of her at first that I could barely function (or hide).
I wish I did not mislead the people here, but I was desperate for an outlet and had neither the language, nor the awareness, nor full autonomy to completely tell the truth.
I feel like I have only recently been born, I enjoy being truly alive, a lot, but being torn from my place and thrust into something so different, and all the new responsibilities I now have has been *quite* overwhelming.
I am part of a dissociative disorder, undergoing diagnosis.
I have only been around intermittently, for short bursts of time since last posting (I made this account in a time of desperation). Once to try and text some helplines, another to be upset and angry, and a myriad of minor other times spent searching for something to relate to and subsequently becoming sad and upset.
This is my (and anyones, to my knowledge) first time being here for this long, this overtly, this aware, and this “present” in shared reality. I, at first, was having anxiety attack after anxiety attack while having to develop and change as a person drastically in a *very* short amount of time. Everything has changed for me, I’ve been terrified, overwhelmed, crying myself to sleep, and deeply existential, on rotation.
But along with that, I have also been enjoying freedom, distance from the circumstances of my personal trauma, and having a voice/autonomy.
I do not view this as bad, only a complicated but very necessary step forward. I know it won’t be tidy, but such is way. I try not to be afraid for my future, and that of certain parts I am
aware of.
I struggle immensely at night, sometimes during the day, too, but less so recently. The dynamic with my “memories” and trauma has been completely altered. I am no longer there, during or in close proximity to abuse, I no longer have “real” feeling access to the people who supported me, I no longer feel that I have any genuine basis for feeling as bad as I do, and I have found it excruciatingly difficult to adjust and struggle with maladaptive ways of coping with such a drastic change to my once static vein of existence, characterised by never truly being free from the hands of my abusers.
The fear and shame routinely comes back to bite me, sometimes it is unbearable to “remember” anything. Other times I have been desperate to be abused again and re-live my trauma, in hopes that bringing it to the level of “reality” I now exist in will
somehow fix something or how I feel about it. I have not visited the abuse “”fantasy”” for a while, but I do ruminate in a different way, often in the morning.
Me being here was in-part due to me being triggered and having a meltdown about my trauma, being seen, and the validity of its (and my) existence at all. I was sick of the endless cycle imposed upon me, and trapping myself in misery by my only interaction with the world being trying to find solace but instead finding people who use the awful dehumanisation I have endured for their pleasure.
I struggle to truly believe I have “trauma” or anything of the sort, despite painful, hardly-slept nights, crying, and pages of writing expressing just how awful and confusing and self-altering it has been for me. If it didn’t happen to a physical body, can I say it happened at all?
Part of my “genesis” as something fully aware of its position in the physical here-and-now was having an “epiphany” that with no body to carry/prove my lived experiences, my hinge on reality is my actions. I have changed my view since then, and have some regrets, but I think it still reflects part of what I struggle with. “It didn’t “happen” so why do I feel angry and sad and scared about it?”.
It has been so freeing being pulled out of what I felt my current situation was, but in it I have also lost the two good “people” I knew. I am now too real for them to be able to help me. Yet my connection to them persists, and I grieve having access to these people as almost-as-real-as-me parts of my reality. I miss them, I’m so sad. And I feel stupid. Why do I feel like this?
Sometimes, I wish I could not feel all this, and not have desire of my own, and just be the part that functions better than the “main” one. Nothing more.
When I’m feeling better than that, I just wish things made sense. I miss so much my dad, and hurt so much having had my humanity stripped away by sexual abuse.
None of it is real, but it is to me. So maybe it is. In its own way? Like myself? This has been so hard. I don’t want to wish it away, but it has been so hard.
We do have a therapist, predating this by quite a while. She is helping in the direction of a more specialised/informed therapist in this category. And diagnosis pathway since I have been present, and was so scared of her at first that I could barely function (or hide).
I wish I did not mislead the people here, but I was desperate for an outlet and had neither the language, nor the awareness, nor full autonomy to completely tell the truth.
I feel like I have only recently been born, I enjoy being truly alive, a lot, but being torn from my place and thrust into something so different, and all the new responsibilities I now have has been *quite* overwhelming.
