Searching for answers
I have been, for the past week, searching through all my old journals. I started keeping them in 7th grade; unfortunately, the one from that year was given to my "best friend" when I moved away and I never saw it again. I'd do just about anything to have it back. So I have only some sketchy writings from 8th grade to begin with, then my journalling habits really took off when I was 16 and in my sophomore year of high school.
They fill boxes.
The journals, which mainly start with chronicling my journey through anorexia, are in my opinion, very twisted. By the time I was writing them, there was something REALLY WRONG. It makes me almost sad to read them, especially when I was 16. I was already filled with so much self-hate, loneliness, and loathing; what a way to be a teenager.
All through my teenage years I complained of headaches, voices inside. There are lines in my journal where I call myself different names, write things in the 3rd person, scream at myself.
But it wasn't until 1993 that things really started to go wrong, extremely wrong (and I was still 7 years away from even entertaining the thought of finding a therapist.)
In 1990, one of my best childhood friends died. In 1992, some more deaths occurred-- in my family and with friends. Other things happened, as well as the ongoing abuse from my boyfriend.
It just looked like, in my journals, that in 1993, I had had enough.
By 1993, you can see the handwriting changes. You can read about the spacing out, the missing chunks of time. I can remember more vividly finding evidence of dissociation. I remember that was about the time I started hearing "Mommy? Mommy?" and "Go away!" in my head all the time (man, I hated that.) The journals really started to get strange, then. The self-hate, isolation, and fears grew even more, until I was hiding out in my bedroom all the time, afraid of being found out. I was aching for someone to help me,but terrified to reach out.
It took another 7 years, and quite a few miracles later, to find my therapist, S. Worth the wait, but what a long journey to make it there.
Posted by pilgrim | Filed under: The Bad Days
Hey SisIf you ever want help remembering something, maybe I can help. Or if there's a memory you have that's confusing, or maybe if you don't even know if it's real, maybe you can ask me. I might be able to remember something. Hope you are okay.Love, Your Sis
Dear Pilgrim,I too keep and sometimes review old journals. They remind me of the place and time and what I was feeling, which was something I didn't acknowledge to the world. In the world I exceled. In my heart and sould I was feeling lost. There were good times too. For those I have tons of photos and am scrapbooking now to create and to remember.It must be strange to see the beginnings of DID in your journals. Sounds like the time you see the changes at 16/17 may have been when nobody appeared, maybe to help you hide in your bedroom like you said.Sweet one, I'm so glad you found your therapist and are doing what you are able to move forward, while trying to reconcile the past.Hugs, Hugs, Hugs, Judy