Tag Archives: Dissociative identity disorder

Another example …

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… of why it is hard for me to post … The emptiness persists, and I don’t like writing depressing blog posts. It feels counter productive to do so, yet here I am doing just that very thing.

Ever since the ordeal with my ex-husband, Letty has largely been in hiding. She’s emerged a few times here and there. But, she has not been the constant companion she was with me for so long prior to this event. Now Little Ronnie is my constant companion. She does ask about Letty. I don’t really have any concrete answers for her, as I also miss Letty.

I’m back in that robotic depressive state that is really just a nasty hamster wheel that you can’t get off for the life of you. I don’t want to be in this place for the rest of my life. Something needs to change. I want things to change, but as soon as I reach for that “change button” it seems like it’s yanked further away out of my reach. How is it that something you want so badly is out of your reach? It scares me that the answer may be I don’t want it badly enough. I believe I do. I feel that I do. But how does one really know these things? One can’t. You just have to chug on as if there is a light at the end of the tunnel, even if it’s likely dark forever.

Just going to admit …

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… that I’ve tried numerous times to post. I’ve tried to write, and I come up empty. Empty, empty, empty. This is why you’ve not seen me on here. But I want to write. Alas, it won’t come. But today I decided, no matter what, I would spew some writing out. So, here it is, such as it is. 

Honestly, I think I’m still grappling with dissociative identity disorder diagnosis. Then there was the whole debacle with my ex-husband. Oh yeah, I am empty. 

So there it is. I’m empty. I feel like I have nothing to share, but I miss you guys. So here I am. Empty with nothing to offer, but trying to be back. All I can offer is my presence. 

Twenty years

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20 years later we found each other again.
It was like time had not passed between us.

It all came rushing back,
the way you give your cats voices and stories,
and your profanity that would be uncouth on anyone else.

You call me princess, and I remember how it felt 20 years ago.
This DID is full of surprises.
I didn’t remember you dumpster-diving for my coupons you accidentally threw away,
or my best friend with hardly a penny to her name flying to see me.

You talked to Letty, Ronnie and Sabrina,
and you showed them love and understanding.
We decided we belonged together after all these years.

April 12th was the day you chose for a fresh start.
You were coming home to me.

In between all the planning we just talked,
talked about life, and stupid stuff, like made-up cat stories.
The laughing, so real, unlike any laugh I’ve had in decades.

All I could promise was tea and toast with me every day.
We don’t have a lot of money, but we felt like the richest duo around.

But then there came the email.
I was merely a fantasy.
Your family needs you, and you hope I can forgive you.

I can forgive you.
But can Letty?
Ronnie?
Sabrina?
You have to ask them as well.

Twenty years from now, there will not be another chance.
There will be no other moment like the one we had.
I know what you said no to, but do you?