Just a ramblin'

I don't know why I am here but the words just seem to flow out when I type them. I can usually keep up with my thoughts when I'm typing as opposed to using a pen and paper.
I'm trying not to stop writing so I don't have to sit in silence any more.
I've developed this new technique f
or when I can't find the right words. David gets angry when I ignore him so now I just say "I don't have words" and he lets it go.
The dog is growling at something all of the time.

Back on point, I'm trying not to focus on the fact that I have Dissociative Identity Disorder but I can't help but to focus on it when I realize that it surrounds me. How can something so intangible consume me? Well it was always there but I was in a trance. I was hypnotized by my own doing. Now I'm gaining more awareness of what's actually happening to me. Why do I lose my train of thought mid-sentence so frequently? Why do I panic when I make eye contact with strangers? Why am I so terrified of authority? Why do I seem to err then blink only to have erred again?

I first went to see a therapist when my biological father was arrested and charged with murder. He asked for my life story as best I could tell it. That was the first time I ever said it out loud from beginning to end. That was the first time I realized how truly scrambled the whole situation was in my head. There were chunks of time missing. Years. And everything that happened, everything I'd been through, sounded a whole lot worse to me as I was saying it out loud. But that's the point of this stupid coping mechanism. It was supposed to shelter me and it worked. It's not like I didn't know my history, it's more like no association of it was connected to myself in an aware and emotionally reactive way. It's more like still images with no meaning were pasted in my brain.

Whatever. I could never explain my behavior. I was turning into my mother just as she turned into hers. Cycles of abuse carry on. I could not explain why I self-harmed. Rather, I self-harmed and enjoyed it more than almost anything else. I knew not what had instilled the courage in me to try any and every intoxicating substance that crossed my path. All I knew was that it took me to a place far away from where I actually stood and I was indifferent about whether I was alive or dead as long as I was absent. In short, drugs made self hypnotism less strenuous on my mind.

My days became nothing more than distractions. I was searching for anything to divert my mind. I used to starve myself and vomit my food. When that didn't work, I turned to cutting while high on drugs. I should not say I for that was not me. I understand now that the motivation to act in such a way was not my primary self in action. It was me on autopilot with little influence on my environment. That's how the coping skill turns on you I guess.

Kriegel met my first alter when David and I were in a fight. I thought I was homeless again and crying hysterically when I called him on the phone. He recognized me as a terrified child and then my mouth spoke back without my conscious exertion. I felt as though a little girl within was using my lips to talk back to him. She responded very well to his words. Before I knew it, my emotions were intact and I was no longer crying. Kriegel later explained to me that this is called "grounding"- a technique used in the treatment of PTSD. The goal is to return the mind to the present moment and remove it from the flashback.

Alters coming out are similar to flashbacks. However, upon transition, amnesia with emotionally charged memories occurs. That is to say that often memories of neutral happenings are shared but emotional ones are blocked from sight. Therefore transitioning feels less like a flashback in retrospect than just simply a blip in time. I was triggered by my fear of being on the street again and the little girl showed herself. Kriegel was the first one to talk to her and with that I started to fear for my sanity.

As of right now we have discovered six alters inside. It feels like a lie to say this aloud even to this day. It has been a tough and challenging year of therapy but I am optimistic about the future.