closeThis post was published 6 months 12 days ago. The thoughts, opinions, feelings, etc. may not be accurate anymore. I have done and said things in the past that I am not proud of, but I am slowly trying to continue to find my way. Everyone makes mistakes at some point. I am just learning as I go. Thus, no matter how embarrassing/awful, the posts are staying.

I don’t remember the last time I described what’s happening in my mind from a first-hand-like perspective, and I figured this could give some insight to my behaviors and current state of mind, or at least more insight.

In December, I only went to therapy once due to the dental work I had done and the holidays. I had hydrocodone prescribed for pain from the procedure, and the last week of December I found myself in holiday overwhelm, online drama from a misunderstanding and a complete state of numb. I really didn’t care much about anyone or anything, and I slept the majority of the week. As far as I consciously know, I wasn’t online much.

January took a swing at me, and although I felt slightly fine, I despised the new year had come along and that I was [basically] at the same state as I was in January 2013 — only I had a therapist — and that family still wasn’t as supportive as I’d dreamt. I began to unwind.

February stormed in, and I began to flood, then I became holey, unable to mend the damage. It was too much, and I began to lose control of my head. I hate when people ask if I’m okay or if I need to talk, or when they tell me I’ll be alright or that there’s a plan for me. I hate when they check up on me, and I hate when they ask about therapy. I hate it even more when they ask me about working/finding a job or when they bring up going to school. A slight addiction to pain pills began, but it was because I craved that ‘I don’t care’ feeling they gave me. I was summoned for jury duty, but because anxiety was eating me alive over the idea of going into a courtroom and being around many law enforcement figures, I received an exemption letter that I hope will be accepted. Last week, sleep consisted of flashbacks and alternate present times, which is more exhausting than it may seem. The last dream of such I had was the one from Sunday night, which ended with my mom’s funeral.

Most of the time, I have no clue as to who I am. I don’t know if I’m really asleep and just dreaming, I don’t know if my head is merely imagining it, I don’t know if I’ve dissociated — until I notice something I didn’t notice before, I don’t know what is happening in my life.

I’ve never explained what happens when things get ‘bad’ — when I lose control — and when I’ve tried to, I’m deemed a liar, insane, or someone who just wants attention.

A few weeks ago, I ‘blacked out’ for two days. Others refer to it as dissociation. I don’t know what ‘I’ did in those two days, but I did something — I saw emails sent and written in a sophisticated manner, I noticed I’d folded my clothes the way stores do and the way I used to — and I’ve only what I can trace back for proof that I was active somewhere.

In the past, I would freak out when things would happen, or I would laugh, or I would cry. Soon after, I was taught not to react in any of those ways, and I have developed a reaction that causes me to dissociate — sometimes it’s daydreaming, sometimes it’s dissociative episodes, sometimes it’s out of body experiences, many times it’s identities.

After realizing I’ve dissociated, however, I do want to freak out.

And, for the last time, I do not work (nor am I in school) because those problems will not go away on their own if I ‘don’t think about it’. I have multiple identities. With some, I’m friends; others do what they wish, sometimes helping me out in the process.

I’m going to a psychiatrist soon to have a proper diagnosis, as well to look into medication for my depression, PTSD, anxiety, etc.

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