********Trigger Warning for talk of sex and abuse*********

The world feels like a dream. There are things I wonder if I dreamed about, or if I actually did them. Such as feeding the dogs this morning. I thought I fed them, it felt like I felt them, but I couldn’t remember at all if they were fed. It’s one o’clock p.m. as I write this. This morning doesn’t feel real. Did I got to the dermatologist or did I dream it? Did I have physical therapy today, or was that yesterday? I am accidental to this world, and my presence is not needed. Sometimes I will make off-handed comments to Therapist about killing myself, but he really doesn’t know how often and seriously I think about it. School is hard for everyone, but this semester has been a sheer, diaphanous nightmare for me. Every corner turned has been a hardship and I am so burned out. I’m not on top of my assignments like I need to be. So Therapist and we talked about some serious issues last night. I can’t believe I told him what I did. I can’t believe I’m even broaching the subject with you. The topic of sex has been brought up and what is involved in receiving pleasure from sex. It’s always a miss with me. Sometimes one of the young ones just cries and cries inconsolably afterwards. I don’t know who she is, but even as I type this I feel her tears crawling fearfully down my cheeks. Her age seems to be young adolescence. For me to receive any type of pleasurable feelings, I have to imagine that I’m being taken sexually assaulted and taken advantage of and abused. This makes me feel like a freak and ruins the sanctity of “love-making” with my partner. I haven’t had an orgasm in forever. And I think I might want to just to feel connected with my husband. But orgasms scare the hell out of me. It feels dirty and out of control. Sometimes I’ll get close, but stop myself. It’s not that I don’t feel like I deserve an orgasm, but I don’t want to deal with the guilt and other consequences. I don’t think I’m fair to Husband. Sex is so complicated. I have a member that is gay, and a member that wants to cheat on Husband. I don’t know what to do with this. It all seems too overwhelming to untangle. I told Therapist about a memory regarding abuser A. The way abuser A forced my legs apart. What am I supposed to do with that now? So now Therapist has a piece of the puzzle. What the fuck now? Does just verbalizing it make it any better? It doesn’t make it any easier to talk about it. I’m surprised I revealed it on here. It doesn’t make me feel any better. I’ve never felt like this before. True, I’ve had moments of hoplessness, but this seems like there really is not hope behind my past. I hear Therapist disagreeing with me. Tough shit. He truly doesn’t know what it’s like to live a particle of a life. I’ve been thinking more about what I want to do when I get my undergrad. I think I would like to go on and get my Master’s in writing. I really want to write. Poetry to be specific. But I don’t know how I would do it. My words get lost in the head, sometimes taken for hostage, ransomed, and then maybe given back to me. I have so much schoolwork to do but I can’t focus. The anxiety is too over bearable. And I feel nobody in this whole world has any idea what I’m going through. I know all who live with D.I.D. can relate on some level. But I feel so far gone. It feels I am completely and truly alone with my symptoms. Everyone struggles, but this defies the explanation of a struggle. To get through each day takes superhuman strength, and I don’t have it in me anymore to keep fighting.