I often say that I feel like a graveyard filled with the graves of my past lives. A lot of who I am and who I have been is gone. I can’t get back the health, the momentum, the life that I have lived during times I felt content with myself. Let’s be honest, there weren’t a lot of those times anyway. But there were years when I was not suffering as much, and there were years when I was able to push through easier. But just like everyone else on this planet, I am not the person I used to be. Only, to me it seems more like a loss because there was no way forward. It didn’t feel like growth. Things got taken away from me. Ironically, my past took away all the dreams and goals that I had during those better years. My childhood trauma caught up with me and destroyed the last parts of me that were holding on to the idea of changing my future that seemed so determined by what people had done to me.
But every time I had built something, it disappeared again. All the new starts, all the new goals, all the passions that I dedicated hours, days, weeks, months and years to. My academic career went down the drain after a major trigger, and my whole world fell apart. My relationship, my marriage, suffered so much that there was no other choice but to end it. And then? I was a community leader, I was a freelance writer, a paid blogger, even a sexworker for a while. But nope, nothing stuck. And it is not like I sucked. I was good at everything that I was doing. I was doing things I had a talent for. I was happy doing all those things. I could push through.
And then boom, all gone. Depression, bipolar episodes, flashbacks, triggers. And every time, after every breakdown, everything I had built up, came down crushing with me. I lost the interest, the passion. And I was lost once again. My whole identity had been built around that one passion, skill, and dream. Getting a PHD and working in academia. Working in mental health care as a community leader and manager. Becoming a professional writer. All those things were so close, I could sense them, I was able to push and push, and show my skills. And then boom, gone.
It is really hard to get any kind of motivation to work towards a future. All of those things that I was good at, had a potential for creativity and sort of being my own boss. My dreams never even involved being a normally functioning member of society. Or making a lot of money. I just wanted something meaningful to fill my days with, something that would make me feel better about myself. Ever since I have been a teenager, I have wanted to do something with my life that would include making people think for themselves. I don’t want to tell anyone what to think, or what to do, I just want to empower people to make their own choices. But nope, I can’t.
And of course I beat myself up about it. I blame myself. Because if something had really been my passion, or I had been good at it, then surely I wouldn’t have lost all emotional connection it it? Because that is often what it feels like. That once things have gone downhill, it seems absolutely impossible to return, to rebuild myself and to pick things up again. I am just not connected to that part of my life anymore. I become numb to it. I have been thinking so much about why it is that way. Is it the bipolar disorder? Unlikely, because despite the different episodes, I often stuck with that one passion during depressions, hypomanias, mixed episodes and stable times. So I doubt it is strongly related to my bipolar disorder.
That leaves the trauma. And I think that is more likely. I often have moments of absolute despair and overwhelming grief when thinking of past times. It becomes especially apparent when it comes to my time with my ex-husband and my academic endeavors. Part of me never wanted the divorce. Part of me wants to get back, pick up where things got bad and go back to get my PHD, and be with my ex. It is literal breakdowns, with crying, screaming and uncontrollable grief. There are other instances about other times of my life as well. But this one time has really given me the strongest emotional response lately. Well, to be honest, I don’t feel much when thinking about that particular loss. It is an emotional response that is inside me, not one that is me. So does that mean this is related to the DID, and certain parts still not having processed that they have lost everything that they had built? Because I feel like that could just be it.
It is pretty normal to grieve and feel loss about lifepaths that weren’t taken. I think the older you get, everyone experiences that at one point. A relationship that didn’t get any further, a move that never happened, picking the wrong line of work. And then you feel like life is running away from you, like you are stuck with what you have now. And I have been considering that I am struggling with that particular feeling of loss.
But I am really not too sure. Because while there are a few particular moments and decisions that I would like to have undone (like getting in touch with psychiatry, starting medications, being in touch with my father for longer than it was healthy), it is more like I have nothing. I have nothing to show for. And I have lost all my opportunities. I am now too messed up, and too weak, to even think about new dreams, and goals. I don’t think I will ever be in a place where I feel that I can utilize the potential that used to be inside me.
And is it worth it? Pushing through, trying, well aware of that I will lose it all again? I don’t know if it is worth the effort, worth the last of my strength? Just to feel that loss again? Having another part live in excruciating despair because the context of who they are is gone, because everything that was them, is gone? Because I think that every time I was able to be something, someone, felt like was a worthy human being, it was about circumstances. Right skillset at the right time. But that skillset on its own can’t do shit now.
Most of all, I know that whatever I put all my energy in, will never lead to what I was supposed to be, what I would have been without childhood trauma. I know that sounds stubborn – but why do I have to burn myself out if I can only be half of what I could have been. It is fucking unfair. Okay, I know that rationally, I have to work on acceptance, I have to work on facing reality, take baby steps, work on getting myself stable enough and aware of what physical energy levels I have at my disposal. And then go from there.
But fuck, that sounds boring, and not like me at all. I have always been spontaneous, and creative. I don’t want to set up goals, taking the limitations that my illnesses put on me into account. And all that won’t keep me safe from having another part, or even myself, being forever struck with grief about a life that is lost. Another option would be just to give up. Because working towards something that I will lose again, knowing that pain is going to come, sounds like idiotic, doesn’t it?
Fragments of Reality 