Tag Archives: triggers

Car accident = freaked out

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I had a minor car accident this morning, no one was hurt. An elderly man hit me in a store parking lot. He really did not want me to file a police report. When he hit me I started cursing in my car, but once I got out of the car, I was amazed that I was calm. Thank god I was calm. I was afraid I was in the midst of switching, especially with the cursing because it isn’t like me to curse.

Police came and made him fork over all the relevant information for me. I started to drive away, and he almost hit me again! Then I found myself floaty while driving. I quickly pulled into a diner, and stayed there even after I finished eating because I felt like I was in a fog.

I walked out to my car, and that felt like a Herculean effort. I started feeling myself float away in the car, so I just sat there. Two hours passed before I deemed it safe to drive. Excruciating. Then I drove to a bookstore. Thankfully, only a few blocks from the diner, and stayed in my car another 45 minutes. Finally, I made it inside the bookstore. Geesh! So productive today, arent we?

Now I’m just sitting here in a mini fog, but still a fog. I had a crying spell in the car, and now I’m calmer. Is the whole weekend going to be like this? Oy! I really hope not. Please, universe, Gods, whomever, help me find a calm mind again.

DID has scared me into hibernation

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I did it again, disappeared from the blog for a bit. It has been hard. The DID has scared and depressed me.

The new job is great, but I had something happen related to my previous employer that has had me triggered. I don’t want to be triggered. I don’t want to dwell on what happened. I want to not feel this way, but, still, I am triggered.

Doc and I had a talk about my diagnosis this week where he confirmed for me that DID is my actual diagnosis. This time I did not freak out, and I was happy that I was relatively calm during our conversation. I have been feeling low about it, but I suppose that’s better than freaking out.

I’ve been losing time at home, and I’ve started to feel like DID is my terrible secret. I’ve told 4 people who are close to me about my DID. Two have been supportive, and the other two refuse to believe that it’s a real condition. The 4 people I told are people close to me, and it makes me reluctant to tell anyone else, not that it’s information that I would freely share with people, but still …

Though I am not doing that great I think the new job has helped things a bit. I feel like I have more of a purpose there, and I certainly am motivated to be there even when I feel foggy.

I am beginning to believe that things will always be incredibly difficult …

To Michael

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English: Broken Heart symbol

Dear Michael,

I miss you, still miss you though it’s been over a year since we parted ways. Honestly, I wish you were out of my mind forever. It would make it easier to get through life. But the truth is that you’re in my mind a lot, more than I would like. I know that we went our separate ways because of my PTSD, and that fact makes me mad at myself. I keep thinking that if I had just been better, less apt to start shaking that we would still be together. You might be confused with all of this since I’m the one that walked away ,but I knew you were freaked out by the PTSD. I knew it was untenable.

You were special, a rarity of a person that does not come around everyday. When I’m really missing you badly I reach down into my soul, and find that part of me that felt your deep love for me. Just thinking of it right now makes me cry. I don’t just cry because I miss you, I cry because no one ever loved me that deeply, and it still amazes me. I wish I had been aware the that last time I kissed you or hugged you would be the last time forever. I would have lingered longer, treasured it more, paid more attention to the entire moment. I would have made sure to inhale your scent one last time so that I could try to bottle it up in my memory bank forever.

I vividly remember one night when we were together and you started telling me how special I was, and you asked me to promise that I would always remember that I’m special. You started saying, “Promise me, promise me …” I then noticed that you were teary as you were imploring me to remember that I’m special. When I look back I wonder if that was the last night we spent together, but my brain fails me, and I’m not sure if it was.

Cooking with you was fun, so fun that it did not feel like work when we did it together. We were so good at cooking together it was like choreography. We were magic when we cooked, no doubt about it. You were a great cook, and I was a fab baker, a perfect match. Every time I hear Michael Jackson on the radio I remember rocking out to those silly songs while we were making dinner one night.

I’ve never spoken to someone about myself like I did with you. It’s because of you that I write again. You helped me rediscover my love of writing, and I treasure that you helped me remember that I love writing. I was able to be myself with you, and I love you for that.

We were close to having a forever love together, so close that it might have been better for my heart if we had been nowhere near such a thing.

I suppose it’s still good that we met, even though I miss you terribly. I write again because of you, and I see myself in a different, better light because of you. Still though, I try not to let my mind embrace the fact that I will likely never see you again.My mind shuts down when I think of this, so I just let it float, float into the vast lake of the unknown with a droplet of hope that will likely never be.

Yours always,

Beatriz

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)