The first five years of my life: blank stares, lack of affection, paralyzingly confusion, molestation, physical abuse and hatred towards me, there was no warmth, no nourishment, no comfort from people around me
The years five to ten: school terror and confusion, realizing that I was not like others, unable to figure others out, febil disastrous attempts at friendship and social interaction, extreme physical hunger, abuse got more physical, more violent, people pushed, grabbed, beaten, objects thrown, sexual abuse rampant, physical abuse daily, realized that I was definitely trapped, no way out, morbidly depressed, realized no one cared and that wasn't going to change
From ten to fifteen: started noticing dissociation, waking up missing days, finding bruises I couldn't account for, embarrassingly self-conscious, not overtly aware of the sexual abuse until I was mid twenties, but aware of the phsical abuse and neglect, never had a close friend just brief friendships that lasted a few months, sexual abuse more intense, many many blackouts
From fifteen to twenty...omg, too much, too much, incest, secrets, high school hanging out with different odd groups, completely lost, spinning in circles, really realizing there was no escape from my hell, body started getting sick even more than earlier, started drinking, one night stands, briefly saw a therapist, knew something was wrong but didn't know what it was, started working...good to get out of the house and help people, had one boyfriend, then married a man twice my age to get out of town with
Twenty to twenty-five...multiple psych hospitalizations, still unaware of the incest, started on a variety of meds, found one good friend, divorced, unable to work, unable to speak at times, horribly depressed, constantly anxious and I didn't know why, unaware of my MPD, just thought I was inconsiderate, forgetful and crazy, started creating art and poetry, began writing journalling, moved four or six times, found a therapist who picked up on the dissociation, the MPD, the incest
Twenty-five to thirty...ran away from my entire family, became anonymous, moved to new city after another psych hosp diagnosed MPD, finally began appropriate therapy twice a week, lived in adult foster care because incest relegation caused me to e overwhelmed and go mute, scared, terrified, completely and utterly alone, my dark night of the soul lasted about three years, moved into apartment of my very own, rarely left it except for groceries, frightened continually, afraid to take the smallest of steps, found an incest/ MPD support group, made my first real true friend that I still have. Found kindness, comfort. Began to get a handle on my MPD with therapist and friend help. Moved a few times in same city. Lived with my friend:)
Thirty to thirty-five....the chaos of DID became manageable, started having a "life", communication and cooperation within the system, became pretty functional in the real world, attended trade school with some difficulty, discovered my agoraphobia, met doctor who prescribed anti-anxiety meds and I suddenly became human going places by myself, suddenly aware of the intense, debilitating anxiety I had been living with, branched out socially, able to maintain acquaintances and friendships, wrote more, understood more, pretty much aware of the scope of the abuse and how I had been living with abused child mentality. Started changing, healing, very very slowly
Thirty-five to forty...pretty calm years, months years without therapy and I managed okay, started discovering who I was under the abuse....
Forty to fifty...major changes, three integrations of 5-6 parts, ground breaking, more functional, less scared, more body memories and early early abuse stuff, found god therapist that we understand each other. Making great strides. World gets calmer inside and outside
I'm getting tired. It's late, otherwise I would have added more to those last two items.
Maybe later:)
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