Throwback Thursday

TBT ~ Metaphor ~ A Comparison Between Then and Now

Welcome to Throwback Thursday where I find a blog post that is at least five years old and compare how I was doing back then to how I am doing now. The following piece entitled “Metaphor” is a poem I wrote on December 26, 2012, comparing myself to the act of writing and story-telling.  I use writing to describe how I’ve been altered, revised, and changed.  Though this piece deals with aspects of Dissociative Identity Disorder, there is an overall theme to which everyone can relate.  Please read the passage; my comments and comparisons between then and now will follow. …

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Postmortem Revival

She has returned . . . a former, archaic version of myself that I had ignorantly believed I would never need again. Her revival has not been so subtle, and she has reprised her role as the destructor of my life, the tamer of hope, and the inventor of all necessity to be alone. She brings with her every negative thought she has collected over this life, constantly reminding me of my baseness and worthlessness. And I, needing her to get me through every elongated second, believe every nasty comment she purports about me. Because God knows every time I’ve …

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grasping at air

there are f e w words. went through R.A.D. self defense simulations yesterday flashbacks    terror     crying 13 hours later still not okay still crying  still scared    still terrified need safe hugs   need peace    need for it all to go away need to cope   bad ideas in mind   need help   need to talk     but there are no words i’m silenced just like then oh, god, how i need help

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Heroes needed. Apply here.

I’m decompensating.  I am fulfilling everything ever said about me.   In my internship as a 6th grade Language Arts teacher, my parts have been out and I’ve lost time.  My university supervisor has given me feedback regarding a comment he said I made to the students.  It was a very demeaning, destructive comment. I have no recollection of saying anything so hurtful to my students. He said, along with my cooperating teacher, that I can not handle stress, and I break down emotionally. I could have saved them the paperwork.  I already knew that. It’s a hopeless situation.  I don’t …

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Bathroom secrets

The need to write is strong, but the words aren’t easy to come by. My mind is split. Raked out the center. Emptied of all reality. I’m disillusioned. Our actions are those taken by a troubled woman, but she feels no urgency at all. What for one woman might be a cry for help, for this other woman is simply everyday life. Anxiety still has been high. Some wonder why we just don’t face what we fear and the anxiety will lessen. This continual running, or avoiding as Therapist would eagerly point out, only makes the anxiety grow stronger, gives …

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To Sleep: Perchance to Dream

I am quite anxious and uneven. Forces are against me… or just in pain. I have gone through a transformation, a metamorphosis of a dark kind. I am not the same me I was at the beginning of summer. Something happened to me to change me, and I can’t change back, though I need to. Seeing and talking with one of my abusers has damaged me in incomprehensible and enigmatic ways. It has consummately broken me. I don’t know how I’ve changed; I just know I’m not the same. Feelings of uselessness, worthlessness, and sadness are more profound than ever. …

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I see what I expect.

This would be funny if it weren’t so true. “I see what I expect.” ~ Annie Dillard. I just read her for my American Lit class, and I love that line. I know if all I expect to “see” in me is the worst possible attributes, then that is exactly what I’ll see: the worst. All I expect of me is a big, fat, slutty failure, so when I look at myself that’s all I see. A fat, slutty failure who is chipping away time, pretending to be in recovery, until she fatally falls. All my grades in school seem …

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God, grant me serenity to accept the things I can not change.

********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 …

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The Revival

Recently I was contacted to give an update to my blog, so here I am obliging. It has been difficult for me to get back to writing because I don’t always remember the posts, and the last thing I need is to be reminded of events going on in my life of which I have no detail. I have also been arduously practicing denial of having D.I.D., and that is not easily done when the whole design and theme of said blog is about you missing somewhere in between the identity of “the others.” In my lapse of writing I …

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Got Apology?

A couple of weeks ago I posted here about contacting one of my abusers demanding an apology. After listening to everyone’s feedback, I decided it would not be in our best interest to instigate any type of contact with him. I didn’t think he would ever apologize, and I didn’t want to set myself up to be even more hurt by him. Last week I found out he contacted someone I know (hereafter called X). They discussed me, including how I had thought about contacting him. After discussion, the abuser apologized to X, but X told him his issue was …

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