H.O.P.E. (Hiding Our Pain Everyday)

Yeah, I realized I have no hope.  There is a song on now-Losing Hope, by Jack Johnson.  I lost my only friend, my best friend, a long time ago.  I set him free.  Because I knew I was really sick, with the DID, you know?  I knew he wanted way more than I could provide emotionally, physically and mentally.  I loved him, more than any other person, aside of family, naturally, and I wanted him to be happy, so I let him go.  Pushed him away.  That was when I was 18.  Took me till age 25 to not think or wonder about him every day.  Then, it took me getting sober and growing up, and getting some integration under my belt to apologize.  See, it’s easier to ask for forgiveness, than for permission.  Learned that one today.

I also realized I have a chest CT no one has called me about.  So, unless they’re freaks, I should be okay.  *Sighs major sigh of relief*  But, my god daughter and her boyfriend came up for a visit yesterday and today.  We went on a 7-11 adventure, as yesterday was: you can fill it, you call it, Slurpee day.  Where I live, there are no 7-11’s.  So we had to go all the way to the lake shore.  I realized last night, after a restless and night terror filled sleep, I have no real hope.

I unplugged from the ole Facebook, because I needed to pursue my dreams, without constant scrutiny or consternation by people who do not pay my bills, et al.  I also needed to heal.  Because, to me, Hope is a cruel mistress.  To me, today, Hope stands for Hiding Our Pain Everyday.

My god daughter has DID as well.  Our systems/parts/alters, whatever are very different from each other.  This is the case with all DID people.  Depends on your level and duration and endurance of trauma, along with severity of trauma, length of trauma, frequency of trauma, how creative you are, how high your intelligence is, and how old you were when the trauma(s) occurred.  My trauma lasted from 4-8.  Then I engaged in repetition compulsion.  You know?  Rinse, lather, repeat, forget to rinse again and never get out of the shower? (Thanks Bill Engvall)  You know, never get help for the trauma, and unconsciously repeat it, thinking you can change the outcome, when all you (Me) did was repeat an even greater trauma, thereby causing an even greater shit storm.  Yeah, that was me.  I had enough.

“These are not my bad acts; these are not my bad deeds.  Keeping someone else secrets is the lowest paying job in the world”~Ana, psych RN.  I don’t know where she got it from, but I moved a lot of blame from me, thinking the trauma and abuse was my fault, (I was fucking four to eight years of age..what could I have possibly done?  And when you come to grips with that?  Holeee Fuck, there’s a grappler) and putting it on the abusers.   That’s a feat of daring right there.

So, today, I am recommitting to my cleaning out my closet and porch and keeping it very clean.  But, I am also going on the DL.  I need to heal.  I have lost a lot of people.  All my girlfriends have boyfriends- which is great!  Really!  It’s fan fucking tastic, because my girlfriends are amazing women and deserve a happy ending.

But you know what?

So do I.

So, conversely?  I am losing H.O.P.E.

Have a good Sunday.



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