Suffering with DID

I went back to therapy 4 years ago to deal with some new trauma, and some old trauma that was awakened by the new trauma.

I stayed in therapy because I had developed a lot of clarity about how inauthentic my life had become.

Honestly, I have never had an authentic life, as my family of origin and the community I grew up in robbed me of my life since as far back as I can remember.

My cup is currently overflowing with the amount of child abuse I experienced growing up. That may not make sense. Normally, my mind can only hold little pieces, but right now, it is in the unusual place of holding a lot of the abuse in awareness instead of dissociating it all.

It seems like the memories are never-ending, and they are not like memories I can deny or question the validity. They are memories I know to be true, but had somehow managed through my dissociation to forget.

Other people I know with dissociative identity disorder (DID), seem to be surprised by their memories when they get them. For me, that is typically not the case. For me, it is like remembering a horrible old friend you tried to never think of again.

I dunno, maybe I am just worn down with the shitty cards I have been dealt. The never-ending shame and depression I feel about the facts of my life. It has taken its toll.

I have lost all hope of living an authentic life. I have been staying alive these past 4 years for my children. I haven’t wanted to hurt them or ruin their lives by me ending mine.

Always the martyr.

I am suffering. I suffer every day trying to hold onto my life for my children. Jeez, I sound like a cry baby. But it is so fucking hard to hold on all the time.

I just want some peace, love, and understanding based on who I really am, not the imaginary many versions of myself that the world knows.

Almost no one knows me. Not even my kids, which especially breaks my heart. I never set out to be a fake parent. It is just what is best for them. 🙁

I don’t hurt people or do any awful things to deserve the horrible treatment I receive when others find out any of my truth, but I am rejected and tossed into the garbage or worse, just for being my authentic self. That is how we treat victims in our world.

Who is my authentic self?

I am a wounded survivor of horrific child abuse who developed dissociative identity disorder as a result.

That in itself is apparently enough to know about me to warrant the rejection of me.

My ex-minister and supposed friends tried to take my children from me when they discovered diagnosis alone. I hadn’t done anything. My kids don’t know I have it. In fact, out of both their parents, I am confident they would identify me as the saner one.

It doesn’t matter. People can’t tolerate the idea that my mind is what it is. They can’t tolerate believing I endured the level of abuse I have experienced.

So, they get fake me. The me that is probably copied from characters off television shows and people I have observed. And fake me, I really hate.

I don’t really know any other me than fake me, so that leaves me with hating the only me I know.

I hate me.

The world is an awful place, where perpetrators are protected, and victims are the bad guys.

I know I am a victim. I did not deserve the cruelty, extreme abuse, and lack of love I received.

It doesn’t matter, though.

My life is a shit show and I work hard to hide authentic me from everyone but my therapist.

This is no way to live. It doesn’t get better, but the cruelty remains because I am not allowed to leave. If I leave this shitty world, then I abandon my kids and hurt them in ways I don’t even understand, but know to be true.


My abusers. My family of origin. All the fuckers from my community. You have successfully robbed me of my life. I hate you all, and hope you burn in hell.

I will do my best to push through another day. It is getting harder. I won’t make any promises, but I will try with all my might to hold on another day for my kids.

Cruelty. My whole life. Nothing but cruelty.

That’s just the way it goes.


12 thoughts on “Suffering with DID

  1. I, too, have DID.

    However, my DID is difficult to understand, because mine is like a bodyguard for my ego, which is a big softie and would have been utterly eviscerated by my life circumstances, so Joel takes care of it for me.

    I feel bad. Even my lucid state is a tad fantastical, so I experience Joel like an actual person—someone I hide behind, someone I created for the sole purpose of experiencing my pain, someone I took as my prisoner for life, someone I know hates me and wants me dead, someone I ask and ask and ask but never give, other than my knowledge. But apparently, I don’t even give that.

    I learned recently when I disassociated that Joel is actually quite dumb, which was not my intention. I thought I had control over their creation and knowledge, but obviously, I do not.

    Am I reaping what I’ve sown? Being shown all the areas of my life that I don’t have control, is this payback? The worst part is—I accept it. There’s nothing I could have done to change this and it makes me feel so… powerless.

    I’ve done so much in my life. I’ve made so many achievements. But for someone with a debilitating condition: none of that matters. I could be the smartest, strongest, most beautiful person on earth, but it don’t mean shit if I can’t control it.

    I can’t think of anything more depressing.

    When I apply for jobs, the hiring manager can see my oddness. It makes it so I don’t get the job, plain and simple. No one will hire anybody that makes them feel “off,” unless they’re forced to, by which point, do you really want to work there?

    No. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to do anything but stumble through this life from one impulse, one dopamine rush, to the next. My serotonin system may be shot, but damn, does my dopamine system work good. I play video games, wrenching whatever dopamine I can get out of it. Then I’ll play some more. Then I’ll play some more.

    How long until my dopamine system is shot? How long before these meds turn me inside out?
    How long before I’m validated by society?

    By definition, whenever the statement “I don’t care” is true for me, I am Joel. Joel is a psychopath bent on doing whatever possible whim flutters across his mind, to hell with everybody else. He takes no shit. He gives no fucks. He only takes what he wants, which, by societies standards, is the perfect citizen.

    Seriously? Is this who we want to be as a society? Are these the values we strive to uphold when we self-identify as “humanity?” Something deep down tells me it’s not. And it’s that something, that spark of light struggling to breathe, that screwed me up so badly in the first place: the desire to be a good person.

    But as we all know: desire is the root of all suffering.

    Sorry I ever wanted anything, Society. How about you tell me what I want? How about you tell me who I am, then expect me to stay sane.

    Can anyone spell Pharma? What about Evil? Dare I say: profiteer?

    But hey, what do I know.
    I’m just a crazy person.


    1. There is a lot here I could speak to, but I wanted to ask about Joel. Could you and Joel ever become friends/brothers or whatever? When my parts stopped fighting each other, my life did get better. We don’t agree most of the time, but we at least understand each other. It is less chaotic from that standpoint. We listen to each other more.
      I hope you can find peace, even though it seems elusive to me right now.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m a lover, not a fighter. But in this world, everybody needs to be or have a fighter.
        Growing up alone, that only left one option.

        However, my situation has changed. I am trying my hardest to change in the best way possible, so maybe Joel feels left out, and that’s why his behavior is changing.

        I don’t know. I can’t control things I don’t understand. Right now, I’m in limbo, halfway between both personalities. Is this how it happens? I don’t even know what “it” is. I just want it to stop. The pain is excruciating.

        Right now, I’m v depressed. I can’t remember or focus because I usually do all that through my emotions, which are dulled from the medicine right now, which is probably for the best.

        I grew up in neglect, so maybe I’ve been abusing Joel by neglecting him, and now he’s retaliating. Peace with a fighter, huh… How sentimental. I’ll admit, it would be nice to come home as it were to all my entities, without clutter, without pain, without abuse. If that’s what comes out of my maturity, then that would be paradise, I think.

        Be well, friend.


      2. I think if you can love Joel, you will get better. You and Joel will be on the same team, even though you are separate people. This shit is excruciatingly awful to go through alone. If you and Joel had each other, both of your lives would be better. I know this from experience.
        I hope you will embrace Joel, and let Joel embrace you back.
        You all deserve to fight together, not against each other.

        Liked by 1 person

      1. I beat myself up constantly when I am stuck in grief. I feel bad for feeling bad. As survivors tho I think it is important to challenge this type of response. You have been traumatised. It’s natural for you to feel grief and to feel sorry for yourself. That’s part of the healing process. You dissociated for a reason- and it wasn’t good. Developing D.I.D. is in response to extreme trauma. Yeah of course you feel grief and sadness! That’s totally understandable. The more we deny our natural feelings the less chance we have of overcoming them. I know to accept our state is so difficult, but that’s what we must do and then practice self care. 🤓

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Wisdom and Craziness, I am also diagnosed DID and yes it sucks. The memories suck. I know you are still here for a reason. You MATTER. ALL OF YOU ARE PRECIOUS. I am sorry. I am so so sorry you are hurting. May you have peace and sunshine for at least a moment. Don’t give up. YOU ARE WORTH EVERYTHING. Cut off those toxic people. Time is for YOU NOW TO SHINE.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It is too late for me. I don’t matter in any positive way. I matter to please the powers-that-be who wish cruelty upon me.
      Thank you for caring. I am glad you still hold your optimism. That is important for your survival. I hope you find a world that works for you.

      Liked by 1 person

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