It’s been two weeks since I’ve written. In that time I’ve lost a dear father-in-law to death, moved from a nice home to a cramped, crappy apartment, had an exhausting moving sale where all I did was fight with Birth Mother, and have barely escaped foreclosure on my home. I’ve had enough.
In the meantime I’ve discovered I’ve been doing it all wrong. Dissociation and my approach to it.
If there really is dissociation, and I still deny it, I won’t ever heal. I don’t know how to handle insider people or if I even want to acknowledge them. Just assuming I dissociate, I don’t want a relationship with them or hold that connection with them long enough to hear from them what their hurts are, their boo-boos, their traumas.
Even as I type this, I’m rushing. I want so little to do with this idea of dissociation or blog posting or anything associated with it.
I think at one point I might have wanted that connection, but I’m not doing the work with them I once was.
It is all overwhelming and makes me angry. There’s no comfort for anyone here.
I don’t know how to create inside safety for them or even me. Why create safety? I don’t understand things.
I don’t want to speak with insiders who may or may not be feeling the trauma. No one is hurting, but how would I know when I refuse to spend time with them?
I don’t care if they are good people or bad people, I want stay away.
One article I read said to remove replications of the outside trauma on the inside bodies. GTFOH. The author said there might be dirt, blood, mud, or messy stuff on the inside bodies. TBH, I know this is true, but I can’t get rid of it.
The effing article also said to give the injured insiders “lots of TLC”. Maybe the reason I am so defiant against the idea of being dissociative is because I am so well disconnected from them.
And I also don’t have the patience for this crap.
I thought I was at one time building a genuine rapport with my inside people and that there was honest communication. I think it’s why I like my last post found here. It felt like honest communication. But it has evaporated. It’s like I woke up and had to start all over again with them so I decided I didn’t want to.
So I hate them and I hate me for hating them.
I’m also scared. I don’t think since the original diagnosis over 20 years ago have I made any progress. Where does that leave me because I don’t want to do the work anyway, so I’ll be stuck here for another twenty years if I make it.
I just want my words back and if one of those bitches took them I’ll be pissed.
What if I don’t have it in me to get better – not better – but have an inclusive, relatively peaceful life?
I keep failing. I don’t know who’s really in inside because I’ve shut them out so long. I know names on a map but not personalities, and I don’t have the fortitude to find out.
I”m out of time, in more ways than one.
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