One by one they cut
Another gash into my chest
Making me a mess
Wanting to escape
Not wanting to wait
For death to come knocking at my door
Screaming out in silence protest
How is it that I can be feeling okay (albeit sick) one moment, and totally overwhelmed with anger, frustration, and discontent the next. Want to shout at the world to stop turning. Scream at everyone that I’m hurting. Yet it all stays locked inside. Inside where the gashes continue to bleed.
Sorry for the heavy post. It’s just how I’m feeling at the moment. Want to crawl up into a hole and die. Hating the world. Hating myself. Hating this heat. Hating my own mind. Wanting to sleep forever. Never wake up.
I want to say no to all of it.
Excuse me, everyone, for the following rant. It just had to happen.
I’m feeling trapped. Trapped in my apartment, trapped in my body, trapped in my relationship, trapped in this city, trapped by this heat, trapped in this life. I need an escape. But what?
Perhaps I need to drive. Just drive. But I hate the thought of driving right now. And the inevitable weekend traffic on the highways. There is no escaping this.
I told my partner that I wished I could have the apartment all to myself right now. That I need space. That having someone around right now is causing me to get into a panic mode. She offered to go into her room/office. Great, thanks. That’ll solve it. I shouldn’t blame her for not wanting to leave the apartment though. It’s a gazillion degrees outside. So… I’m trapped.
We are supposed to go visit our friends’ new baby in an hour. I want to stay home. But I also want to meet the baby. One week old. What do I do?
I don’t want to be around anyone right now. Everyone please just leave me alone. (Not all of you of course. I’m referring to offline people.) I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to be left alone.
Can you tell I’m in a foul mood?
Perhaps I should try taking a cold shower. My therapist recommends this for times when I’m really anxious. Okay, after my cigarette. Ugh.
Tomorrow is my birthday. Woop de fucking doo. I celebrated with my family last night. Triggered me big time. Again, trapped. Trapped in a family that drives me up the wall with no escape.
Does anyone wish there were an easy way out? An easy fix to make all the big hard heavy stuff just go away? An off button to the chaos? I do. Yes, I really am complaining aren’t I.
Home. Feeling blah. Anger pushing up. Ggg. Why must I return to my life. I don’t want my life. I don’t want to be me. I want to be on permanent vacation. A forever escape. Why did I have to come home. I should be happy I’m home. Right? Back with my cats? Back with my partner? Why am I not happy? And where did my peace go? Sorry I must sound like a child complaining. Sometimes I just wish I could press a button and make everything feel easier.
I’m filled with anger at the moment. No idea why. No idea where it’s coming from. I think it has something to do with a post I just wrote on the DID support forum that basically said I think my therapist is wrong about my DID. And now my body and mind are surging with anger. Anger toward my therapist? For not understanding? Anger at myself? For questioning the DID? Anger at the whole process? For how frustrating it can be? I suppose I am frustrated with the process. I’m frustrated that I can’t just be sure either way. I can’t be sure I have DID and I can’t be sure I don’t have DID. And that frustrates the hell out of me. Perhaps that’s where the anger comes from.
Why can’t mental illnesses be tested for like physical ones can? Elevated blood pressure? You can see the numbers right before you. Low white blood cells? You can see the numbers right before you. Anemia? Testable. Cancer? Testable. Kidney stones? Testable. Hepatitis? Testable. Liver disease? Testable.
Depression? Not testable. Anxiety? Not testable. Dissociation? Not testable. Hearing voices? Not testable. Serotonin levels? Not testable. Dopamine levels? Not testable. Clinicians can only observe certain characteristics in a client based on their external experience of the client and what the client shares as his/her own subjective experience. Of course, the subjective experience shared by the client toward the clinician is going to influence, however slightly, the external experience the clinician has of the client.
I, for example, told my therapist I have “another person” inside my head and her name is R. Then several months later, my therapist diagnoses me with DID. Coincidence? I think not. More like unconscious manipulation on my part.
I’m frustrated that I can have that much control and sway over therapists’ opinions. I hate it in fact. And I hate that I have managed, at some point or another, to convince myself I have DID because it’s a mindset that’s practically impossible to break free from.
I need to stop before my frustration blows a fuse in my brain. Gggggg.
What is going on. This is the second morning in a row where I’m woken up (way too early might I add) completely flooded by anger and rage. I have no idea why. I have no idea where it’s coming from. All I know is that I’m so angry I feel like killing someone.
I saw my dad last night. Well both parents actually, but I focus on my dad because of the anger and hatred that pushed up when he tried hugging me. Ggg.
Does this rage relate to my dad? I know he would always try to be more physical than I liked (he never understood why I never wanted to hug him – I suppose neither do I), but honestly is this cause for such anger and rage?
I am so tired of having these overwhelming feelings and having no idea where they come from and what they are attributed to. It’s more than frustrating. I just want a day that’s free from all this shit and emotional turmoil. One day free from all this, that would be nice.
Sometimes I push myself so hard I don’t know how or when to stop. I’ve spent the last couple hours cleaning. I began to feel foggy and overwhelmed. And rather than taking a break I pushed harder. When I realized I should take a break, I started to but then noticed the hair balls and dust collected in the corners and felt a compulsion to clean. Keep cleaning. Must keep cleaning. At what cost? At the cost of my inner well being. I started getting angry and agitated. I was pushing chairs over and throwing the broom down in my haste to get every last particle of dust on the floor. It became my angry mission. But not in a good way.
I’m finally taking a break. After I snapped at my partner and yelled at her for looking at me. For looking at me. For watching me as I was sweeping frantically. She responded in a patient, kind tone, “I was just going to tell you what an awesome job you’re doing.” How do I deserve that? After snapping at her. I don’t…
But I’m going to try to go easy on myself. Cleaning is a daunting task for anyone, and considering how easily I get overwhelmed by things, I think I’ve done a fairly good job. I just need to learn to go slow, to take breaks, to do it in moderation rather than pushing myself to the point of breaking. Although pushing myself until it’s horribly painful is something I’ve always been good at. It’s hard to unlearn engrained habits I suppose. But I’m gonna try my darnedest.