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Instability
9 years ago
➜ for everyone who loves to create
Breaking News : Billy is an unpaid intern.
Bipolar.
Obsessive-Compulsive.
Autism Spectrum.
Dysthymia.
Social Phobia.
Dissociative Identities.
The words to describe them are too many, make my head spin so hard I find myself nauseous.
All simply to describe to the laymen why I'm too loud, too angry, so very, very confused.
And that's all I've found it is.
Confused and, as a child, alone - without an ear that intoned to listen for the deafening shrieks of my fragile psyche.
A child unable to grasp the world firmly in one little hand, left to fend for themselves in a family of addiction and ignorance.
The alters have left, and the waking dream sequences are no longer a part of my life.
A dark cloud hovers where once they stood, holding the doors shut for my own safety, my sanity.
And as I approach I've found that the cloud, that dark fog, hides truths only more vicious still,
with long knives at the ends of rope fingers, jutting from the depths to teach my curiosity that it is unwelcome.
There are nightmares, now, that bring me to the surface screaming for air.
There are memories that I'd never thought to exist, until they shook me to my very core.
At the heart of my mind I thought to find a child, innocent and wide-eyed, lost and glossy-eyed to the world at large,
Yet I found in the depths, beneath leaf and loam, nothing more than a withered corpse, glassy-eyes longing for a hope never granted.
I'm currently working through the emotional upheaval and trauma-dump that results when one is recovering from Dissociative Identity Disorder. While many years of speculation and confusion gave me reason to doubt my own diagnosis, the loss of the 'ability' to blackout dissociate as well as the now-revealed sections of my psyche hammered home that I am indeed recovering from what had reached the point of DID. Facing my emotions is hard, facing the flashbacks and memories and triggers I didn't know I had is harder. On the bright side, determination of why I've had certain problems, why I have certain compulsions, and -generally- why I'm trapped being the way that I am at least 60% is a great motivator and aid to be able to overlook the stressful parts of my problems and misunderstandings that usually result in my losing doctors' aid. So I'm getting better, seem worse, and I'm actually starting to develop some understanding and consistence now that my memory is a different, more manageable type of touch-and-go.
Obsessive-Compulsive.
Autism Spectrum.
Dysthymia.
Social Phobia.
Dissociative Identities.
The words to describe them are too many, make my head spin so hard I find myself nauseous.
All simply to describe to the laymen why I'm too loud, too angry, so very, very confused.
And that's all I've found it is.
Confused and, as a child, alone - without an ear that intoned to listen for the deafening shrieks of my fragile psyche.
A child unable to grasp the world firmly in one little hand, left to fend for themselves in a family of addiction and ignorance.
The alters have left, and the waking dream sequences are no longer a part of my life.
A dark cloud hovers where once they stood, holding the doors shut for my own safety, my sanity.
And as I approach I've found that the cloud, that dark fog, hides truths only more vicious still,
with long knives at the ends of rope fingers, jutting from the depths to teach my curiosity that it is unwelcome.
There are nightmares, now, that bring me to the surface screaming for air.
There are memories that I'd never thought to exist, until they shook me to my very core.
At the heart of my mind I thought to find a child, innocent and wide-eyed, lost and glossy-eyed to the world at large,
Yet I found in the depths, beneath leaf and loam, nothing more than a withered corpse, glassy-eyes longing for a hope never granted.
I'm currently working through the emotional upheaval and trauma-dump that results when one is recovering from Dissociative Identity Disorder. While many years of speculation and confusion gave me reason to doubt my own diagnosis, the loss of the 'ability' to blackout dissociate as well as the now-revealed sections of my psyche hammered home that I am indeed recovering from what had reached the point of DID. Facing my emotions is hard, facing the flashbacks and memories and triggers I didn't know I had is harder. On the bright side, determination of why I've had certain problems, why I have certain compulsions, and -generally- why I'm trapped being the way that I am at least 60% is a great motivator and aid to be able to overlook the stressful parts of my problems and misunderstandings that usually result in my losing doctors' aid. So I'm getting better, seem worse, and I'm actually starting to develop some understanding and consistence now that my memory is a different, more manageable type of touch-and-go.
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