Living With PTSD/DIssociative Disorder

Living With PTSD/ Dissociative Disorder1

I walk through the realms of life so unaware of the world around me. To frightened to face the demons that reside in my soul. Everything becomes frightening as the world feels like it's closing in, strangling the very air I breath to sustain my life. The airplanes in the sky become huge monstrosities that pose a danger. I am so sure they will fall from the sky to plummet to the ground in a heap of fire and smoke. This does not seem irrational to me at the time, as the other fears do not as well. Fears that sneak up without warning to let me know that the monsters I fear the most lurk in every crack, crevice, and shadow that the world holds. 2

So as to avoid all these monsters, I am convinced are only a few footfalls behind me, I cloak myself to safety. There is small chamber in my brain where I can hide out in the darkness I have come to know so well. It's a small place, devoid of any substance at all. Just darkness swirls around me. No thoughts, no feelings, not even the essence of being real. Just a small fragment of myself hiding, wrapped tightly squeezed into this tiny space.3

When the immanent danger subsides I slowly emerge, but not before I put on my mask and disguise. The me I let the world see, not the person that I really am inside. I feel that if people really knew me they would think I was crazy and be on their way. So it is easy to take on an identity to replace the one I don't have. Much like the chameleon that blends in with his surroundings so do I. I can be anyone you want me to be just don't ask me to be me. I don't know who that is.4

Sudden flashes of old memories come to interrupt my day; sometimes several times a day. They shoot themselves through me with the force of a lightening bolt piercing it's way through my soul. These memories are memories I wish not to see but I'm trapped. I can not move, as my whole body freezes to a petrified rock. The terror washes over me and my breathing suddenly becomes heavier and heavier with the thickness of the air. Then I find myself gasping for air while watching this memory play out in front of me. It seems so real as if I have literally stepped back into the past and I continuously tell myself that what is clearly before me did not happen. It is not real, it can't be because it is just too unreal to accept that it is.5

I run and hide like a fugitive in the night until it is time to lay my weary head to rest. But, not even the dead of night seems to offer any peace as I toss and turn in a fitful night of sleep riddle with constant nightmares. The meds to help me sleep help for a couple of hours and then I am up before the dawning of the sun feeling like I've just been run over by a mack truck or have went ten rounds in the boxing ring instead of three, and the only person I am fighting is myself. I fight myself form becoming free and having to face life's realities.6

Not even a mummy is wrapped as tightly as me and I feel as though if this wrapping were to come off I'd loose control of everything. A flood of emotions and memories would drown me in their tidal waves. My body would be bashed against the sand of shore, then lifted and raised to ride the currents of the rushing sea. No one is their to save me and pull me out so slowly I drown day by day waiting for that life preserver to come along and rescue you me but to stubborn to accept anyone's help.7

This is what happens to you after suffering 10 years of daily physical, mental, and sexual abuse. It was my reality for so long I became accustomed to it so once out of it I didn't know how to act. I had no prior knowledge of the rest of the world so I had to play along learning along the way. It has been a long and tiresome battle trying to keep up with being a normal person when in all actuality I want to succumb to the freak my mother convinced me to be. It is so much easier to be her. 8