abnormality

[prismaticbleed]

 

 

I can't believe we just updated 3 days ago. It feels like 3 months.

Had another terrible nightmare last night that my brain graciously purged (for the most part), but woke up exhausted and suicidal, with the worst body dysphoria I've had in months.
I've been actively fighting off the driving need to harm myself since this morning. Some alter keeps coming out too, screaming and sobbing about it, repeating "you whore, I hate you, I hate you, I'll kill you!!" every time it becomes aware of the body. Then the AP kicks in and it's poker face city all over again.
Someone yesterday was craving alcohol so vehemently I thought I'd snap. I don't even drink, but I swear, if someone had handed me a bottle of brandy I'd have downed the whole thing, and who cares about alcohol poisoning. The fact that that is the first alcoholic drink that came to my mind set off major alarm bells, but right now, that feeling is a thing of myth, and whoever is driving right now has no comprehension of emotion at all. Under the surface, though, it's an active volcano. The only reason why I haven't snapped yet is because I'm on the computer, this blessed tranquilizing thing, allowing us to plug in hours upon hours of work detached from a physical form, free from the pains of consciousness.
I don't know how many of us are fronting at once. Everything is being filtered through the AP. It's been like this for weeks, if not months.
We spent so long out of Central that I've forgotten it exists.

Daily life is a struggle at this point. I hate myself for saying that (someone does), but I can't keep denying it. Suppressing things just makes them worse, it seems. You've been forced to wear the mask of normalcy so well that you forget how to be honest. You forget how to ask for help. You forget how to be happy. The mask is nailed to your face but you've learned to treat the streams of blood as nothing to worry about. That's how it is. And every time we try to tear it off, we get shouted at. "You can't live without that mask," they say. But I can barely even breathe while the cursed thing is on.

I'm trying to apply for disability but my mother insists "I can just push through it" because "we have autistic people at our workplace, and they don't let their illness stop them!"
Well that's brilliant and I'm happy for them, but as this condition of mine is making the fact of my existence a living hell, I really don't feel like I'm capable of holding a job right now.
Even better, when I tell her this she laughs and says I'm exaggerating, but the moment she catches me with a sharp object in my hand, or on the brink of an emotional outburst, she puts on the "don't you freaking dare" face and hisses that if I do anything, she'll send me back to the hospital/ put me away/ etc. because "I'm THREATENING her." How the heck is this threatening you??? I'm trying to kill MYSELF, not you!!!
But that doesn't seem to register. She insists we're "blackmailing her," and it's always an angry, hateful accusation, with no acknowledgment of the pain we're going through. She doesn't understand that sometimes it is virtually impossible NOT to self-abuse. It has nothing to do with her, at all, and it NEVER DID.
Sometimes my teeth feel like they're going to explode. Solution: bite things. If I can't release the pressure that way, I get angry and violent in an attempt to ease the growing pain. She forbids me from both options, but when I start rattling from the confined pressure she threatens me to "get over it." I'm sorry, but I CAN'T.
Sometimes the voices in my head get so loud that I want to either scream and tear something to shreds, or shut down on the spot and effectively go catatonic. Once again, we're forbidden from both options. If the AP isn't fronting to buffer any and all emotions-- like if someone demands we interact with them-- suddenly the stopper's out and the voices get through. But raise your voice or swear a little or say one bizarre or unsettling phrase and immediately someone's trying to call 911 because "we aren't going to put up with your shit." So we go through the day in such a dissociative daze that we don't even know what year it is, simply because the alternative would be acknowledging the never-ending cacophony between our ears.
The only person capable of interacting with people is an alter and it's almost impossible to force someone to front for that long without passing out.
I can't even bother to eat or drink or bathe or move at HOME some days. My old job-- which I held three freaking YEARS ago-- was difficult enough. A LOT has happened since then.

It's not that I don't want a job. I desperately need money. I ran out of cash for food this morning. My several failed college attempts drained every single savings account I had, and my mother STILL insists I go back to school, while again threatening me if I fail out again. I can't guarantee that I won't. I'll work my ass off, sure, but that doesn't always guarantee a passing grade. Sometimes my best just isn't good enough. I know that.
But I just want to be able to buy food and clothing without wanting to die every day. I have an emergency $100 left from Mel & Jake but I need to spend around $50 of that on toiletries and bulk frozen food this weekend, just so I have backup items on hand if I end up penniless for a while.
To revisit the previous point, I'm trying to apply for Social Security in the meantime, but I'm cursed by my inexplicable high SAT scores from a century ago, and the fact that I can't afford the therapy I need to get a diagnosis.
My only advantage is the fact that someone took an IQ test back in early 2011 (I didn't exist back then, I have NO idea who that was), and although her score was about 130, she was diagnosed as schizoaffective with a heavy recommendation for medication, since the testers couldn't deny the extreme educational difficulties I was having and could only explain them as the result of psychological difficulties.
I'm desperately hoping I can re-take that evaluation though. We didn't start getting serious symptoms until we ACKNOWLEDGED that we had problems. Back in early 2011, shortly after the end of the world failed to happen, we weren't exactly doing that. We were in a self-induced state of blissful ignorance, CONVINCED that all our problems were "fake" and "not worth paying attention to anyway."
Here, let me quote from that awful diagnosis page:
"the respondent... describes NO significant problems in the following areas: antisocial behavior; problems with empathy; undue suspiciousness or hostility; extreme moodiness and impulsivity; unhappiness and depression; marked anxiety."
Now let me quote from one of our archive entries from that EXACT same time period.
This was 12 days before the test.
"I HATE endorphins. Every single time I do anything that sets them off, I want to kill EVERYTHING...I have literally hurt people because of this, you know. Not just me.
No problems with undue hostility, extreme moodiness, or antisocial behavior? Really?
And both this AND this happened on THE SAME FREAKING DAY OF THE TEST:
"I go to extremes just to make myself suffer, to make myself sick. I take stupid risks for it all the time... and oh God, the nightmares. The nightmares. But I can't stop. This has been going on for too long, too strongly. I have a splinter problem and it is literally killing me, bit by bit, every day, consciously, willingly. To think my therapist asked me about suicide today, and I said no! How ridiculous. Suicide doesn't have to be planned, it doesn't have to be instantaneous. This is suicide. This is slow, merciless, painful suicide. I almost miss the knives. How I wish I could just hand this drive over to Laurie and be done with it."
No problems with marked anxiety, unhappiness and depression, or impulsivity... yeah, whoever took that test was lying through their teeth.
And I'm well aware of the empathy problems too. For as long as I can remember, whenever someone around us starts crying (typically the mother), someone upstairs starts screaming "stop crying, you dirty faggot!! I'll kill you if you don't shut up!!" Every single time. It's very hard to keep them under control. Said voice has also explained that, to them "faggot" is the cruelest slur they can think of: not only is it a homophobic insult, but etymologically, the word means "a bundle of sticks," and that voice explained that "all you whores deserve to burn." So yeah. Not a very nice alter there.

Very few of the downstairs system people are nice, actually.
One of us adores the grandmother, one of us is terrified of her, one of us hates her. It's the same with the mother, although whoever actually likes her is extremely quiet and hard to find.
Many of us like to cause pain, either to others or to the body. Many of us just want to die, in one way or another. Many of us are manipulative and sadistic.
It's disturbing, and personally I don't want them around (SCREW YOU), because it's not good to have such violent and bitter voices always trying to get out and cause havoc.
But I don't know what to do about it. I can only front through typing. I don't know how to drive. I didn't even write the past 90% of this entry. See what I mean? The switches happen so quickly, so entirely, so imperceptibly, that it's only when we suddenly realize "oh hey wait, I'm fronting," that we realize someone was there before us.
Memories are chopped and altered and redistributed all the time. Someone can be triggered violently and then be buffered almost instantaneously be the AP, resulting in a very disturbing outer show of emotions: three seconds of screaming, crying, and/or violent retaliation, then suddenly a blank face and unmoving body, literally unaware of "what just happened." It's not supposed to know. But the people around us when that sort of thing happens know. They know, and they aren't comfortable around people like us. Hence the not exactly feeling comfortable getting a job right now.

We're in a FB group for dissociation now, we're learning a lot. Someone posted this.
"How do we keep our system from splitting anymore?"
And the response...
"Take the pressure off. This is likely to mean therapy and work dealing with the body of trauma. Reducing general stress all round seems to be a good step too."
Problem is, both the original poster and I have already been through years of therapy, as well as intensive work trying to deal with the trauma. But the stress levels around us won't go down.
And we keep burying everything.

Nothing is real. Nothing is real. Nothing is real.
All of you are dead. You're fake. You don't exist.
Go to hell, we're just as real as you are.
No you're not. ♡
DON'T YOU FREAKING START THAT WITH ME I SWEAR TO GOD
Guys, please, no fighting in the update box.
I'LL FIGHT WHEREVER I FREAKING FEEL LIKE IT
You won't be fighting anyone if you don't exist ♡
SCREW YOU!!!!!!!


all right i've gotta close this up and go meditate or something sorry its getting really loud