These past three and a half years have been difficult, to say the least. Nearly two years in and out of general psych units, specialized trauma hospitals and day programs. Many therapists, psychiatrists, and everything in between.
Lies have been exposed, images have been ruined and relationships have ended. Figuring out that my childhood is lost, more like stolen away from me. All kinds of food, color, texture aversions. Misdiagnosed with everything from schizophrenia to bipolar. Coming to terms that I am the black sheep.
Apparently, there is a pill for almost everything. Realizing that chatter in your head is not “normal”, and that I cannot have my shampoo in my room because it contains alcohol and I may drink it. Talking in third person is necessary as to not offend any of the insiders.
Strings and shoelaces are non-existent. Vocabulary consists of acronyms and abbreviations. The “quiet room” does not have anything to do with a library. “Safety” determines where you sleep at night and when you get to go home.
It seems as though my whole life I lived it outside my body, watching it like a movie.
I had accepted the fact that Dissociative Identity Disorder has not given me any positive things until now. I do not know who came forward but somehow, we have managed to get ourselves together enough to go to school again. It has not been an easy transition from hospital life to college life, except maybe the shoes laces…
Nevertheless, I have learned so much about myself in the past three years, developed a passion for studying psychology and writing. Although friendships have been strained, my true few have remained faithful. I know that I am in no way done with my journey, but for the first time in a long time, I feel independent. I am not working towards wellness for anyone else but me.
I have been told all my life that I was never good enough for anything. That I am always wrong and I am bad. I will always be the mistake that my parents made and I am the reason people have abortions.
However, yesterday my professor approached me and said that I have something to offer people, and it would be a shame if I did not pursue a career in psychology. That was the first time in my life that someone has told me that I can be something. My life does actually have a purpose and that I am intelligent. My voice has finally been heard and validation never felt so good.
I have so many projects that I want to do. Non-profit organizations, book collaborations, and so much more. Nevertheless, none of this would have been possible without my highly intricate and specialized way of surviving the past.