I'm fine I say, but I'm far far away. Locked inside my body, bound in shackles. Everything is blurry, words are gibberish. This is normal I say, when I blackout for hours to days on end and have no clue what I've done in that amount of time. I feel I am barely attached to this vessel of mine, like I'm just out of reach of the controller, only sometimes being able to use it. The other people in my head, everyone has those, right? Everyone has got a child and persecutor in their head, so why mention it?
My memory is just bad from excuses, excuses. Something tickles in the back of my mind like an itch that can never be scratched, and it leads me to panic every day.
I ran away from the mother who "loved me so", but she spat every guilt trip and manipulative thing she could to control. Suddenly things started changing, nightmares getting more vivid, more focused, until the nightmares turned to visions I couldn't unsee. Oh God I wish I could unsee. I'm sick I'm nauseous, surely it was a lie? But the more that comes back to me, the more sealed in the truth the trauma came to be.
But it's not fine. I can't get a grip on the reality that lays before me, the reality that others seem to cling to oh so well. I've lost years of my life dissociating that I can never get back. My heart aches and bleeds when I remember all the time I'll never obtain back because I was dissociated due to a trauma I never knew I had before.
Then the memories started flooding back, the gates of hell opened and unleashed upon me, a wrath and disgust I've never known before, even though it has haunted me my whole life. The symptoms started clicking together like a jagged puzzle to me. The alters seem to speak chaos and things I cannot understand, but I hear Him oh so loud and clear, the one who tells me all the horrid things. How I should cut, die, starve, and bleed for EVERYTHING I have done because it is all my fault. I can't tell what's real, am I going insane? I'm scared, like the child crying in my mind. Now I know why I've felt so unreal the whole time, the depression, the dissociation, the chaos, the voices, all made sense. Am I maybe not the monster she made me out to be? I am so uncertain of it all, but I was ready to discover this when I took the fall. We became finally safe, so my mind can now begin the long road to healing.
I lament my trauma with tears of sorrow and anger, but I am thankful my mind tried it's best to keep me safe.
