Having memory problems is really hard. I sometimes get scared I have made up my entire existence. I don’t mean just the DID, I don’t mean half remembered traumas, I mean everything that has ever happened in my life, I mean every single experience I’ve ever had.

When I feel this way I need photographic or documented proof to trust anything I think is actually true, and even then I can still question if it’s real or somehow it’s just been falsified so I could convince myself it’s true later when I’ve in fact made the whole thing up.

Things can randomly trigger me into a spiral of doubting my interpretation of reality even though intellectually I know it seems silly, but the disconnect I feel with emotion and memory makes it impossible to really believe almost anything.

My ever patient psychiatrist just spent a chunk of time trying to confirm with me that I was in fact diagnosed with cancer. She was literally in the first operating theatre when the pathologist came in with the biopsy result so I should believe her.

Yes, I do have a massive surgery scar the length of my abdomen and an ileostomy but after I saw a magazine cover with some headline along the lines of “my fiancé faked having cancer” I’ve started questioning if I somehow made up the whole thing. If I’m somehow subconsciously manipulating people into feeling sorry for me when there’s nothing even wrong with me.

I feel like a total fraud and a liar.

What if the doctors were all just humouring me for some reason so gave me fake surgery and an ileostomy to shut me up and stop me whinging? Some big placebo surgery experiment? You know they actually do that with some people? To try and shut them up? It is unethical as fuck but it happens. What if this is the same thing?

What if I’m accidentally lying about the whole thing and my memories from having chemo aren’t even real memories, what if the hospital photos are photoshopped? The fear that I will be mocked and disbelieved runs so deep in me that it’s easier to accept that I accidentally lied and invented it / imagined it or a whole bunch of doctors might have also lied just to humour me or stop me annoying them than that it might be true.

You know, once I walked around the supermarket with our daughter and spent the whole time unsure if she was actually real or if she was just a hallucination? I convinced myself that I wanted a daughter so much I’d made one up but incase she was real I also didn’t want to ignore her. So I was trying to talk so super quietly to her so nobody could hear me speaking or see my mouth moving in case she didn’t actually exist and I was talking to nothing and everyone would think I was crazy.


I just cannot believe myself. I cannot trust myself. I don’t know what’s real, I can’t know what’s real. M says it’s understandable to feel this way given time and space are such a blurry concept to me but I hate having no linear timeline, I hate emotional flashbacks with no proper narrative, I hate feeling like a fraud and a phony no matter how much “proof” there is of something.

When I was little I saw people trying to trick me. Trying to tell me I was somewhere I wasn’t. I thought I was so clever when I proved that they had lied, when I knew I was right. Then I realised I couldn’t tell them I knew. I had to pretend. Because why were they tricking me? They might be really angry if they knew I found out and so I never told them. I was scared they’d hurt me or kill me or send me away, so I just looked out for all the lies. Tried to notice all the tricks. Tried to remember that it wasn’t safe to believe what people told you or showed you.

But maybe I remembered that too hard. Because now I can’t believe me either and I hate myself so much for being so confused.

I get into moods where I just want to run away and disappear forever to a faraway place where I can’t hurt anyone else with my lies. That’s why I didn’t want a tattoo but Kate got one anyway and now people could recognise us if we ran away. I sometimes want to just commit suicide and then apologise to the whole world in a note and beg their forgiveness for lying about… I don’t even know what. Everything? Or is it actually real? Or are they the ones who are doing all the lying and the tricking like when I was little? I don’t know!

Even though I don’t think I have lied or forged documents and scans and stuff, I can’t really prove anything to myself enough to believe my life is real. The alters in my head tell me it’s real and to stop worrying and it’s fine and it’s all real, it’s just hard. But then if I feel better I suddenly realise I’m taking comfort from something nobody else can see telling me things nobody else can hear and, well…

Also, what if they’re the ones doing the lying and the tricking and they’re telling me all this stuff to make me scared and make me go away again? Would they do that? Can they do that? Are they even real?

I think I have a job. I think I am married and I have children. I think I’m sitting in a house with a ticking clock on the wall and a big black dog snoring on the floor. But maybe I’m not.

Maybe actually sitting in a padded room somewhere staring at a wall and imagining everything. Maybe I should be. Maybe it’s like the Matrix or the Truman Show or something like that and I’m so scared. So utterly terrified that people will yell at me, that they’ll be upset with me, blame me and shame me on magazine covers and the whole world will hate me for making up stories that I really thought were true.

I never wanted to hurt anyone but I don’t know how to fix this so if nobody says anything I just play along. Just pretend it’s real and they’re right about stuff and hope nobody yells at me and tells me I’m bad and mean and a liar.

9 Comments on “Lies?

  1. Big hugs. Your not a liar! None of you are lying. Its all true. You just feel like it isnt. I get that. I feel that way too sometimes about our life. Its normal, a normal reaction, much love. Xx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. er, excuse me for sticky my big, huge actually nose in…. but I have never met so many with so much to offer… have a chat with yours therapist about getting funding for a PhD… Hegel and Heidegger would be left standing…. yous all are as yous are and your collective experiences are staggeringly brilliant…. as yous all are… so there…

    Liked by 2 people

      • I am certainly a bit ‘touchrd’ as is said about the mad but I have no fear, which can be a problem especially when ‘our kid’ (Finnbarr) wants to play out…. *this was meant to be funny but I’m not sure it translates as such but hey-ho*…and I am awake having answered my phone to nurse ringing me about the continued swelling and throbbing of my head… I haven’t been waving at enough people which incidentally is problematic as I have waved at practically everyone where I live so I wonder if I should move to a new town and start over… anyway, it’s a good idea,, the PhD thing not the waving or moving, and I know this because I nearly done it myself…. yup, I am a proper smart Alec… or some of us believe so… although, there’s absolutely no evidence of it ever helping so maybe waving at people is about as good as it gets… I dunno… but no one else does either and that’s the real point… and just in case you don’t believe in the possibility give it a go… the PhD thing not waving of course although waving is í find a rather good pass time and makes others smile too… this said I don’t see it catching on and it can be a bit weird… in fact, I had wondered why folk started walking the other way, doh… feedback is everywhere I suppose… maybe, its just too much sometimes and numbing out and make-believe is normal too… any, anyway I am glad to be biased and actually believe,, even if it’s make-believe, yous would smash it…. so there…

        Liked by 1 person

      • Same for us, we feel less alone knowing you and your system.

        Sometimes other DID folks (we had to flee our living situation with our landlady with DID recently) really forget that everyone has their own journey in learning and recovery.

        Liked by 1 person

    • Hmm. Big question.
      I suppose it’s a gateway question… Because if I dare to believe the seemingly impossible yet “provable” oddities of our soap opera life, then where does that leave the “unprovable” things that are only in our unreliable memories? What about partial memories? Emotional memories? Are they even based in reality or simply imagined?

      I suppose if the “provable” situations are true, then it means the unprovable ones that I remember in similar ways just may be too. That could have pretty scary implications.
      An issue lies in the fact that we feel a distinct lack of emotional connection to a good chunk of the so called provable situations making them feel ‘unreal’ and some level of fluctuating intermittent emotional turmoil towards the unprovable ones.

      Life feels no different in ‘realness’ than dreams do, so I rely on proof from photographs, videos and other people’s interpretations to gauge what is ‘real’.
      Perhaps it’s safer to live in the moment than question a shadowy past, but time is not linear. Soon this moment will be the past and that too will become fuzzy and questionable…


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