Venting I have Dissociative Identity Disorder and it's killing me.

[dissociatedmess]

I thought going into the research track at uni to study it would help me understand myself better. I was hoping to come to terms with it. But it sort of had the opposite effect.
It made me feel way more powerless knowing how many people out there have so many horrible opinions about something they literally do not understand. I hate the entire culture built around the thing that is fucking debilitating to me.
I got more alone and more isolated and more afraid of myself.

I try to keep it under control but I can't stop the voices. I can't even talk nice to myself. I get attacked internally. I get screamed at, mocked, belittled, laughed at, and I can't live with voices constantly telling me I should kill myself. I shut down. I don't "black out" but time just seems to slip away. What happened yesterday was actually two or three days ago. Did I shower? My hair is damp so I must have. I saw that movie! But I just can't remember it... But I loved it! But I can't tell you anything about it. Did I really say that? Oh I didn't know you were coming over! We talked about it earlier? Sorry I'm just a little frazzled. Wait, why am i here? I'm halfway through this outing... I keep trying not to go out with them why do I keep winding up here?

"Why are you bringing this up again?"
I didn't know I brought it up the first time.
"You said you loved this show"
I've never seen it.

I know I said I felt this way, or that way, but now I feel weird I ever said that because I just don't agree.

I remember, and then I forget, and then I remember!! and forget. Fuck! I know I knew it just a little bit ago.

I'm always rereading my messages. My journals. Videos. Pictures. Voice memos. But all of it feels like I'm snooping through someone else's things.

I cut my parents off a few years ago because I couldn't take it anymore, but they have homes inside my head, too. I can't get rid of that.
I can't stop hearing the way they'd sneer at me for thinking anything I went through was halfway bad. DID? Fucking insane. Fake disorder. I see them roll their eyes at me and tell me just to kill myself already because all I ever do is manipulate them all. I never figured out what I was manipulating them for. I don't know what I was receiving from being in pain.
But my mom loved it, too. She loved the hospital trips and the medicines they put me on and the books she bought to protect herself from my abuse. I was 15 when they put me on antipsychotics for a disorder I didn't even have.
I was 15 when I wrote the suicide note she kept tucked in her nightstand until I found it at 23, ripped it up, and threw it away.
I wondered what was so prized about that memory for her.

I told my therapist I think I'm just unhelpable at this point.

I'm so embarrassed and ashamed to be alive I cannot express it—I can't emphasize it enough. I was supposed to be dead. It's what my parents wanted. I've tried and I can't do it. I wish it were as easy as snapping my fingers and disappearing.

How the fuck did I make it into my 30s

This post got away from me, just too many feelings and nowhere to fucking put them.

 

[Kokonoe]

I thought going into the research track at uni to study it would help me understand myself better. I was hoping to come to terms with it. But it sort of had the opposite effect.
It made me feel way more powerless knowing how many people out there have so many horrible opinions about something they literally do not understand. I hate the entire culture built around the thing that is fucking debilitating to me.
I got more alone and more isolated and more afraid of myself.

I try to keep it under control but I can't stop the voices. I can't even talk nice to myself. I get attacked internally. I get screamed at, mocked, belittled, laughed at, and I can't live with voices constantly telling me I should kill myself. I shut down. I don't "black out" but time just seems to slip away. What happened yesterday was actually two or three days ago. Did I shower? My hair is damp so I must have. I saw that movie! But I just can't remember it... But I loved it! But I can't tell you anything about it. Did I really say that? Oh I didn't know you were coming over! We talked about it earlier? Sorry I'm just a little frazzled. Wait, why am i here? I'm halfway through this outing... I keep trying not to go out with them why do I keep winding up here?

"Why are you bringing this up again?"
I didn't know I brought it up the first time.
"You said you loved this show"
I've never seen it.

I know I said I felt this way, or that way, but now I feel weird I ever said that because I just don't agree.

I remember, and then I forget, and then I remember!! and forget. Fuck! I know I knew it just a little bit ago.

I'm always rereading my messages. My journals. Videos. Pictures. Voice memos. But all of it feels like I'm snooping through someone else's things.

I cut my parents off a few years ago because I couldn't take it anymore, but they have homes inside my head, too. I can't get rid of that.
I can't stop hearing the way they'd sneer at me for thinking anything I went through was halfway bad. DID? Fucking insane. Fake disorder. I see them roll their eyes at me and tell me just to kill myself already because all I ever do is manipulate them all. I never figured out what I was manipulating them for. I don't know what I was receiving from being in pain.
But my mom loved it, too. She loved the hospital trips and the medicines they put me on and the books she bought to protect herself from my abuse. I was 15 when they put me on antipsychotics for a disorder I didn't even have.
I was 15 when I wrote the suicide note she kept tucked in her nightstand until I found it at 23, ripped it up, and threw it away.
I wondered what was so prized about that memory for her.

I told my therapist I think I'm just unhelpable at this point.

I'm so embarrassed and ashamed to be alive I cannot express it—I can't emphasize it enough. I was supposed to be dead. It's what my parents wanted. I've tried and I can't do it. I wish it were as easy as snapping my fingers and disappearing.

How the fuck did I make it into my 30s

This post got away from me, just too many feelings and nowhere to fucking put them.

i have DID, too. it's such an awful disorder to live with. i like to call it the evil hell disorder for a reason. there is just nothing else like it and it's crazy the sort of things the human brain can just decide to put itself through.

if you ever want to talk about DID i'd be willing to. it's pretty rare so talking to someone who can know what it's like can be hard to come by.

 

[FF777]

(sorry i'm going to be naive here but) that doesn't sound like a fun existence.. i don't know much about DID but does some thing traumatic have to happen to cause it, or does it just happen to some people for no reason?..

and are there any real cures or treatments for it?.. i'm sorry you have to live like that and i wish there was some thing i could do to help some how.. i hope it helps you a little to type out your situation and feelings like that on this forum..