Things have been really hard lately, emotionally that is. All these things are happening around us that should be good, great even but a familiar shadow of shame hangs over me and I feel only numbness, fear and pain.
Any writing I’ve done lately has been largely to try and convince myself that things are lovely so I can look back on my words one day and believe that I was happy.
I’m having a lot of trouble writing from a place of truth and authenticity. I know this is something we’ve always done to cope with stress but it feels so far away now that I barely remember ever doing it. I’m forcing myself to write here now because I’m struggling against an inner temptation to delete this blog, the book drafts and my journals.
Having DID puts me in a unique position. My poor memory gives me the opportunity to rewrite my own history. It feels as if deleting all the words we have ever written is the only solution to this sadness that is encapsulating me right now. If I erase our past, time will let us all forget. Maybe if I can make us disappear, it will make the pain disappear too?