Sociopath Community

Blanc said: 

They're on this forum. 

um, so I haven't shared all the times I've dissociated and, I don't think it's possible to because I can't always remember all of it at once. Like, my memory is very fucking spliced up and I can only remember certain things when I am in the proper "window" to see it. 

These windows come and go and pass as they please, I have no control over what I can and can't see in my own head, and my own past. 

I've gotten "better" than I used to be, through a lot of fucking hard work, therapy, journaling, etc. Like, when I was 19 if you would of asked me if I had seen any abuse in my home life, I would of said no. Because I was "dissociated" from it completely. *Completely*.

This is just how I coped. Part of it is *sort* of my fault, part of it, is sort, of not. 

(I didn't remember any abuse until I was 21) 

Let me explain so, basically, ugh. Hate... talking about this but I need to, put it down on paper. 

Um... *dissociatey feeling* lol um,... sorry.. flashbacks. um.... fuck what was I saying? 

um......... fuck lol 

oh yeah. so, basically, when bad things would happen I like suppressed my emotions or whatever about it, and would just like, completely "dislocate" myself or like "dissociate" myself mentally, physically away from, what had just happened. This, was a choice in a way. I think. So like, me choosing not to process anything, is part of why I think, I was able to build up such strong "habits" of dissociative tendencies. It was, unhealthy and, led my brain to having a pattern of it. 

But um... the part that, isn't totally my fault I guess is, like, the fact that stuff was so painful that like, I went into a fucking box in my head (a room) and... yeah this is too much for me to talk about but. Yeah, this is the root of it all for me like, the most clear cut example of dissociation I have, memory of (currently) lol (I don't always remember this so this is why I'm writing it down) 

I uh, yeah one day when my dad was beating the ever living *shit* out of me, (I can't go into details or I start getting really dissociated feeling and won't be able to finish this fucking post, as difficult as it already is). 

And... uh... fuck. um.. sorry losing my train of thought. okay so... yeah, I thought to myself during, the beating, "there has to be a way I don't have to feel this pain anymore." 

because I could not *physically* escape (sad face lol) like, it wasn't possible, I, had to mentally, dissociate from where I was, in order to not *feel* it. Because it was just, so painful. Not, emotionally but, physically, like, hurting beyond what I could handle. 

My brain just went into like, full dead possum mode. I guess. And I uh... I remember staring at the kitchen door, while I was down on the floor, like I had my head smashed into the floor and I was looking at the door like, wishing to get out, and could hear myself thinking, "there has to be a way not to feel this pain, block it out- block it out" 

and then I went into a box. like, suddenly I was *inside* my head. and my outter body in the physical world must of, gone unconscious at this point, I have no idea. like, I don't know if my eyes were open or shut. I don't know, what was happening out there anymore. I didn't hear anything, I didn't feel anything, I was completely blocked out from it. 

and I was just inside this dark space in my mind. all black everywhere, just pure darkness. and then a box in the middle, with a door on it. obviously, a room. I opened this door, something was urging me to go inside. 

and then, once I went in the door shut itself and it was dark inside as well, wood floors, and a small candle in the middle of the floor. 

the room was bare, empty, just me alone, and I sat criss crossed. 

I think I was a much, younger version of myself as well when I was in this embodiment in my head, in this dark room. 

and I remember, something talking to me but I don't really know who it was and, I'm guessing now, it was probably Martha yeah. but it was just kind of telling me what to do and not to worry and stuff. 

I was like, "when will I get out? will I be in here forever?" like, "how do I get out" I couldn't find the door anymore. 

and she just told me to stay put and focus on the warmth of the candle, because I was very cold and scared. 

so yeah I just sat by it, focusing on the magical glowing little candle, and she told me to watch the flame and how it flickers. 

and to breath very deeply. 

so I just sat there, criss cross, breathing and, looking at this candle. 

I don't know how long I was in there for. I felt kind of scared because it was dark I didn't know when I would get out or like if there would be anyone coming up behind me idk. 

but yeah then I guess, I blacked out completely at this point, I think my physical body in the real world like passed out or fell asleep I don't know. so, everything goes blank and then, 

yeah I wake up in the physical world, in my body again, and I'm on the floor of the kitchen where he left me. 

fun times... Lol um.... so yeah. 

*shrugs* 

like.... people talk about having an "inner world" but that's the closest I've come to experiencing anything like an inner world. 

um... and yeah. 

also I wanted to note, someone showed me this fucking image on twitter and it made me feel really dissociated looking at it. 

https://twitter.com/Mortemscythe/status/1240508077184409600?s=20 

these were toys I had as a very very young child but I don't remember, much about the time surrounding it though I've, been trying to remember. 

I also had a dream once, where I was lucid and I was shown this long table of toys from my childhood, which, I had forgotten about until my subconscious showed me them in dream form. 

and, I picked them up and sort of tinkered with them like, "NO WAY!! How'd they get this??" (who is they I don't know lol) 

and... yeah I dunno... what my fucking subconscious was trying to show me by showing me all these little toys from my childhood which I forgot about but... now as a conscious person I, have a harder time remembering them. I just vaguely, vaguely remember a general idea of maybe what they were along the lines of but. I can't make out a clear picture. 

- 

I have also had dreams of like.... being molested as a child. like, a lot of them. lol so... I can't remember all of them right now but, one that sticks out in my mind is I was at school, like, I must of been 4 years old. like I was extremely young in this dream. and, I was like looking for a bathroom and then a man helped me find it, who was sort of young. but, still an adult or maybe a high schooler at the very youngest. 

I really don't know. um... he had a white shirt and black pants which makes me think, high schooler because that was the uniform of the high school kids, who's school was connected to my elementary/kindergartden where I grew up. 

and, I spent *a lot* of time in after care, there just wandering around. we were not watched well at all. I know because when I was a little older I started taking advantage of this fact and just, I could literally wander off campus and they wouldn't know I was gone. For like two fucking hours. 

I was usually there from the start of school being let out until late late at night. like, 6pm, or sometimes even 11pm. 

and yeah... I just, remember being led into this very small door, inside of a very small room. It was like, the literal size of a crawl space. 

And yeah he molested me. 

And then afterward when we came out I mean, he had told me not to tell anyone about our special time or something like that, it was something really fucking sickening. lol 

*vomits* 

and then I uh.... sorry I just started crying out of no where lol. um (dries tears) 

... emotional flashback probably. um. ... fuck lost my train of thought. I remember, coming out of the tiny room and, I had a thought process after that like, but I can't remember now because I lost my train of thought. it's hard to put into words what I was experiencing. 

I just felt really fucking small and like, no one would believe me if I told them what happened and, the world was so big and no one was paying attention. I just sort of like, decided to not tell anyone out of like, a naive, unknowing.... feeling that, no one would care or do anything about it, and it would keep happening regardless like, I just felt this sense of "there was nothing I could do about it" or like total powerlessness and totally, felt like, super small and just... yeah like, it was just out of my control completely everything was just out of my control is how I felt. idk. I couldn't like, stop it. 

I just remember not being able to stop it. 

please don't fucking ridicule me for sharing this. 

anyways... like, seriously. 

um, whether this is, something that really happened to me, or, just a dream, 

it still represents something very real which is, my feelings, my very core, innocent feelings like, the pure, raw, ones at the very core of who I was as a child. in response to, whatever happened to me in my life- 

like, it doesn't matter to me if the events are real or not, I have no way of proving that really, 

but, the feelings are real. and they're buried in my subconscious, in the form of, dreams where I am a small child, or, being shown, toys and things from my past. 

I don't really *know* what happened and I've tried to think it over a lot, going over times where I was vulnerable. Camps, schools, baby sitters, friends, family, family friends. Times where I travelled. Every, event I went to. Everything. 

I've, tried, to think over everything. and I just, can't, recall. If anything happened or not. 

I know I have "blacked out" trauma, so it wouldn't surprise me if there was more of it that I'm unaware of- especially because of these disturbing dreams lol 

And I can't access this blacked out trauma no matter how fucking hard I try, and even though I've been totally made aware of it, and given detailed accounts of it from other people. It's, completely, like, buried six feet deep with a slab of concrete over it and then maybe a steel vault around it like, I cannot, access these memories to save my life. 

so, I mean, if there are anything else blacked out, like.... I don't have very much hope for seeing them. is what I'm trying to say. 

my mind, has like, deleted them completely from being able to be found. it's likely not possible lol 

but anyways um... so yeah......... *shrugs* lol 

I forgot what I was saying.... oh yeah. 

but yeah I also had a very disturbing dream where I was abducted, by this guy in, a uh truck. and I feel very dissociated as I talk about this, which, that tells me something honestly. 

but yeah uh... ... sorry... dissociating very heavily lol um....... fuck!!!! 

focus. Okay so. fuck. focus. there, was this, old man in a truck and god I feel like vomitng. and yeah, he had a lot of grey hair and a beard. and he was wearing a white shirt as well. 

and yeah it was one of those white trucks that like, coco cola or something might load up a bunch of stock on to transport. with the big latch on the back and then the big white garage sliding door thing on the back like slides up 

and yeah he like, took me for a ride in his truck, I remember being in the front seat, and we went far away on the high way. 

and I remember this with absolute utmost clarity. it looked like, kissimi Florida. just as you... 

oh my god. oh my god. sorry im just realizing something. 

my best friend Kathrine, her dad was a truck driver. and he lived in kissimmi. maybe it was him. 

but anyways. so yeah, there is this very curvy off ramp to get like off the high way, and there is large large hills of grass that the highway is built up ontop up, that the curve like, goes down around surrounding it. 

we went down this curve, and then he stopped his truck on the side of the road. this is butt fuck no where, like, no one is coming. no one could hear, no one is watching. 

and he takes me in this fucking, cave that is inside, the uh.... under pass. of the high way. and it was like, wet. and like, dark and greyish cement, obviously because that's what they're made of. 

but it's like this sort of like, "small space" underneath, this high way overpass thing that is *inside* the grassy hill thing that like, supports it. 

if you live in Florida you know what I'm talking about lol 

but yeah uh.... fuck. I'm having a really hard time focusing. but, I just remember like, he was definitely going to do something bad to me, I was chained up, but I slipped out of it somehow after he went away. he was very intoxicated. 

I was just a small small child. 

but.... I ran and hid somewhere behind like, this.... corner. of cement tower thingy, a support beam. 

and he was looking for me like, "where'd you fuckin go you little piece of shit" or something like that 

and I was just trying to think of ways to call for help or escape. 

and it was echo-y in there. really gross like, wet,.. garbage-y like... gross place. dark. and wet. 

and he was calling out for me. and then, I just remember like, him screaming in my face or something... like I remember him being *in my face* 

and yeah then he raped me which I'm *not* going into the details of though I do remember some details. 

and then he took me back out and (shudders) lol 

and.... yeah... took me somewhere... I don't know where at this point, I think I was very sleepy. 

he must of drugged me or something I don't fucking know. 

but, once again, this is just a dream. 

I do have memories of actual sexual assault that I know for a fact, really did happen though. 

but they weren't when I was a small child, the ones I remember. 

i.... talking about these dreams though makes me kind of sick. once again, may just be a way of my brain harboring emotion about trauma or sexual assault and perhaps these things weren't real. 

I just assumed they weren't for the longest time but, I do remember the dreams so, I thought I would write them down just in case they are of any significance later. if I remember something. lol 

Anyways I’m going to try and go over one more memory um.... if i can. 

Because i think i can right now and it would be good to get it down. The last time i tried to write about this, was like maybe three or four years ago and uh.... *dissociates* lol flash back time.... hurray. 

My body is tensing up already great. Like, muscle twitches in my leg start happening sometimes and thats how i know I’m like getting high anxiety and my shoulders go up to my ears without me realizing it lol 

um... but yeah sigh i think... i am going to try and get this down.... yeah last time i tried to i completely dissociated like full on, stared out a window for maybe 6-8 hours i dont know how long it was 

had a full on convo with my mom during this black out which i have no memory of, and then i just slept it off. 

But yeah... um. I think (flash backs) i can try. Um.

fuck, every time I blink i fucking see it and it’s a lot like, a lot of feelings are coming up to the surface like a boiling tea pot but anyways 

(ignores that) 

so.... to get this down. Because i don’t always remember it, an dim in the window where I remember. 

I uh..... fuck! Dissociating again. 

Fuck. This is really hard um. I dont know why I’m doing this. Ugh.

okay. So. It was his birthday (Leo). And he begged me, up to his birthday to let him fuck me in the fucking ass. Not even joking. I said no like 80 million times. But he wouldn’t stop begging. 

He claimed his parents were out of town and they didnt want us staying in their house while they were gone so we had to stay in a hotel during his birthday week (probably a lie) 

he said it was one of the nicest in mexico (definitely a lie) 

and that it was like this boujee luxurious vacation (it was more like, a shitty motel in the middle of mexico there was nothing nice about it) 

so, right off the bat I’m like looking around the room like, this.... is “luxury?” To you? But i just didn’t say anything. It didn’t occur to me he was, this malicious that, he would lie to me that much or, had any like planned, mal-intent going on in his head. 

I dont’ know how much of this was planned and how much was... impulse or, just a night “gone wrong” as they put it but, at the end of the day, he did, rape me. 

I didn’t, say yes, to this. I was forced.

So, to start off the night, it was his final birthday night, we mayb had like one or two nights left in the hotel. We were fighting a lot because he was pressing me about sex constantly and i just kept turning him down. 

But he said, “lets just get all this off our minds and have a good time. I want to show you this amazing amazing bar in town. Yeah it’s like THE COOLEST BAR ever. You’re going to LOVE it.” 

He really hyped it up, but, looking back on it, it was just an excuse to, get me somewhere, where there was alcohol. 

It was in walking distance of the hotel we were staying at, how convenient.

so, we go out. And he’s like, “yeah i just want to spend time with you on my birthday and have a good date night that’s al i want. You’re right we can just have a good time we don’t need all this sex stuff lets just enjoy each other’s company and have a good time!!!” 

Really like, making it seem like he was in love with me, and just wanted to, be with me, on this “special day” and blah blah blah 

(bull shit probably) 

and, right off the bat, he’s ordering us drinks and pressuring me to try them. I find one that sounds kinda cool and hes like oh YEAH THATS ONES REALLY COOL YOU GOTTA TRY IT so I’m like aight FINE 

like he pressured me for like twenty minutes or more, into drinking along with him. He didn’t wanna bne the only one drinking and yo don’t really love me if uyou wont drink with me and, blah blah blah blah blah the list goes on and on, all the reasons he came up with to pressure me to drink 

i took one drink, and after that, I was pretty dizzy because it had a shit ton of alcohol in it, and as i finished the first half of it he said, “oh you drank all the alcohol out of i now you’re just drinking the flavored part, need to add more” nad he added more shots of vodka and Kahlua whatever 

and I don’t know what I’m thinking at this point, we’re drinking, talking laughing. I dont’ really remember what about but. I mean, it was alright. I think he ordered me other drinks after this but i don’t remember... and he was making me sip some of his too i remember now.

but yeah... i was just like, i remember everything sort of looking like a black ring around it and like fuzzy and just, weird as fuck. Like, i was drugged. 

I was not in my right mind at this point. I started feeling really sick and dizzy and couldn’t walk straight. I think i said something like, “did someone put something in my drink?”

and like, i was thinking the bartender did it or something because i just wasn’t feeling well at all like, i thought i was going to puke into an umbrella stand nearby 

and he was like “alright lets go back now” and it was like difficult to get me up off the couch where we were sitting and i was like, acting like a small child at this point like noooooo I’d not wanna gooooo i can’t moooveeee i cantttttttttt

and hes like theyre gonna close soon we have to goooooo 

and i couldn’t walk straight at all i was like so dizzy, and i was like leaning on him the entire way back to the hotel like, he had his arm over me and i had his arm over his shoulder and like fully, unable to walk lol like, my feet were like dragging on the cement at times 

And then we get back into the hotel room and i went over to my suit case of clothes to like change into my pajamas and he was like, don’t put on those pants. Like, after i took off my pants i was going to put on my pajama pants and i was like “oh I’m so glad we’re back ahhh i can finally rest... good nighttttttt time to go night night yes yes yes” 

like completely oblivious to the fact he’s just like staring at me while i change and is like “don’t put those pants back on” in a rapey psycho tone like, very serious and stern lol 

and I’m like “no what do u meannnn i wanna wear pants my butt is cold” or something like that 

and hes like no 

and I’m like yessssss 

and hes like NO 

and I’m like BLAH BLAH BLAH i can’t remember what but like we were yelling about shit now arguing got heated, 

and then he like threw me into the chair, i was naked. He took the clothes away from me and SCREAMED at me like with full force like. “FUCK YOU YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE!!!!!!” 

Shit like that. And he was like telling me to spread my legs and uh... to fuck him essentially or he was goign to send me back to America 

and i like got up at this point and tried to run for the door, despite the fact i was naked like, i felt like in very serious danger at this point and felt like he might, bash my head in, kill me, i dont know what he was going to do but. I just was going to run. 

But it was locked, and i was like fucking with it trying to get out and he like just stood there watching me for a minute and then grabbed me and threw me down on the bed and then i was kicking at him and shit and i got him off me for a moment, i got up and ran up to the windows and started banging on them and screaming like “HELP HELP HELP” 

but, no one was there. 

And then, he pulled me back and... held me down, he tied me to the bed. 

And, did whatever he wanted to me.

and afterward i felt really sad about it all and he untied me to let me take a shower i had to like, beg him to let me. 

And i had to beg him, to not watch me while i showered. I just wanted my one inch of privacy i said. 

All of this was a lie, i was going to escape out the window bathroom.

and then, i got to the bathroom and, noticed the window was un-openable. But ther was a crack in it. So i tried to like break the glass with my fingers but I was no use my hands were just bleeding now and i sat down in the shower and just started crying but i realized i was trapped behind this stupid cement walls 

i put bottles of shampoo over the crack after like, washing it off so he wouldn’t see the blood, and washed off the wall cuz blood was dripping down it. And i wrapped up my hands for a bit in there and waited for it to stop. 

And then i came out shagging the towel on my hair trying to act like everything was normal like doo doo doo, just having a lovely day shagging out my hair la la la...

This is how insane, abusive relationships can be and how twisted they can be because... 

i thought that um... uyoui think you would think to yourself, get out, leave him, this is bad, this is wrong. 

And you would just instantly do what it is right. But i understand what it’s like for them to be so deeply in your head and have you so manipulated, and so twisted around in there 

that you don’t even know, when it’s right to leave. And you blame yourself for the things that they did to you. 

And, at the time, this wasn’t rape. This wasn’t abuse. 

It was my fault because i didn’t put out. I deserved it. Is how i saw it. 

And then i just sort of dissociated from it or went into this pure denial, where like, that didn’t happen. 

And that, somehow it was all my choice and, really i did want it! I just, didnt know! 

I wasn’t raped, i wasn’t coerced. I was just drunk!! It was just an argument... 

this is how delusional you can get, surrounding trauma. 

And how intense denial can be. How dangerous it was though, for me to be like that, because... it ultimately could of been what got me killed 

several months later, because of the fact i stayed with him, he did eventually try to kill me. 

It’s only by the grace of literal god that he didn’t, or, fate, or, whatever you believe in, Pure chance. 

He was caught in the act by a neighbor and he stopped it. But he had a knife to my throat and uh .... was choking me. I couldn’t get out from under him, he was on top of me. 

And, i was doing everything i could. Telling him i loved him (even though i didnt) and like, just begging for my life essentially but, eventually i couldn’t breath anymore and this was it you know. 

But a neighbor saw into our window, who was across the way, and he said, “STOP OR I’M CALLING THE POLICE, GET OFF OF HER!” And he had his phone in his hand and was already like, putting it up to his ear like, basically calling. 

I still have no idea who this guy was, but, i watched him during the years we lived there, i was “kept inside” a lot, so like, i just would stare out the window and watch... i never thought he of all people would be the one to step up and “be the hero” 

there were so many other accounts of abuse where, people had witnessed it and didn’t step up, didn’t stop it, didnt’ intervene, didn’t care to help me, even times where i begged for it from people for help. 

No one ever did a thing, but, this kid came through hah, luckily when i most needed it. Um... he was just a college student at the campus nearby everyone went to. Including Leo and myself. This, apartment complex was, pretty much entirely students. 

And yeah... so surreal to me like, remembering my life then, there at the university there in Puebla. Like, I lived a fairly normal life there just, was a lot going on “at home” with me and this dude. He had a severe drinking/drug problem and... was severely controlling, kind of psychotic. And abusive. Very insecure. Narcissistic. And, generally, a fucking ass hole. If I’m being totally honest. Like, conceited, selfish, just, genuine ass hole in every way possible. 

But yeah... I just, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain what its like but you can get so wrapped up and manipulated by someone that you’re not even making your own decisions anymore. 

I also at the time had no concept of like, how I was supposed to bne treated. I had no concept of self respect. I had none of my own, self confidence, opinions, or even much of an identity. I was used to being a narcissists door Matt and used to being abused that, I didn’t see it as wrong. I genuinely, thoroughly had no fucking clue, how these things were wrong to be done to me. Zero, concept, of self respect. 

I genuinely believed I had it coming to me, and I deserved it. So that was a huge part of the problem there. 

And then, ontop of it, I was very dissociated from my childhood because it was traumatic so, my identity was like, gone. I was a blank slate, to be molded and conformed to anyone’s will. And he manipulated me, into these states of mind, by making me feel safe, feel loved, feel trusted, feel taken care of. It wasn’t blatant but, subconsciously, I was dependent upon this person without even realizing it because, I had no where else to go. 

And, I was just a kid. It didn’t occur to me ya know to like, make a life for myself without him. I was so “fucked up” mentally because I was fresh off the “base” as they say, or, fresh off, of home base. I didn’t yet learn, anything about, who I was, what I deserved, what was right or wrong y et. I didn’t know, I had the ability, to be independent. 

My parents beat me down and made me so small and believe, such awful things about myself I genuinely didn’t think I was capable of taking care of myself. Though I was 18 years old, I was very much like a child. You know? Like, I just didn’t think, I could do it. 

So i became dependent on this person who made life for me work out. He got me away from home. He provided what I needed. And he was like a friend to me. He built me up. 

But, at the same time he was full of psychopathic rage at times and would do absolutely insane things that, people shouldn’t, do to people. 

But at the time like, that boundary, of what was right and wrong, was like obsolete for me, because of my long standing history of growing up “abused” 

to me this just didnt’ register as abuse. It was normal. 

Like oh, yeah, when people get angry they’re allowed to do this. 

But, no, they’re not. Lol. And i had to like consciously, learn that. Because that feeling of like “wow this is really wrong” like, wasn’t there for me. 

Blanc said: 

 

um, whether this is, something that really happened to me, or, just a dream, 

 

it still represents something very real which is, my feelings, my very core, innocent feelings like, the pure, raw, ones at the very core of who I was as a child. in response to, whatever happened to me in my life- 

 

like, it doesn't matter to me if the events are real or not, I have no way of proving that really, 

 

but, the feelings are real. and they're buried in my subconscious, in the form of, dreams where I am a small child, or, being shown, toys and things from my past. 

 You can't be real. 

Literally publishes books worth of content about herself and thinks there's still a mystery going on. 

This would explain why I was so badly dissociated... 

there was a period of years in my life where I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. And I didn’t know why this symptom was occurring. 

I actually totally forgot about it till now. 

But I was always ashamed of it, so I didn’t tell anyone about it. I thought maybe it would pass with time. 

But it was an indication of a very serious problem obviously.... I just, didn’t understand at the time so, I didn’t know it was a symptom of an underlying disorder or, trauma, or anything like that. I didn’t even know it was there. And I was in such denial, that even what I knew of I, remember *forcibly* stuffing down. On purpose. I had my means of denial but, when nothing else worked, I basically would physically stiuff down any emotion I had on the subject of trauma. Memories. 

This, force I guess was too abrasive for ones psyche and it led to a total dislocation of oneself. My neurology was adapting, or, reacting to, damage. Trauma. But instead of emotionally, healing back into place as one should be, I split in two. 

And there was the conscious self that, saw myself in the mirror. 

And there was the self that I couldn’t see, staring back at me. That I couldn’t recognize as me, no matter how hard I tried. Because of all the buried things, in there. That were so.... ugly, I couldn’t even physically see them no matter how hard I tried. 

It’s a very strange effect which there is no word for. It’s not just detachment, it’s like a magic trick. An illusion. Like camouflage but, even more convoluted. 

Because what is being concealed is, inside myself. And, the magic trick was, even when you stared, directly at it- in the mirror. It’s a trick on the eyes, you, can’t- see yourself. 

It doesn’t register. Even though it’s there, it’s there in the mirror. 

It never will register as you. 

What the fuck do you even call that. What is that? 

Surely it’s a symptom of dissociation that is known, studied, talked about. Surely other people with dissociative disorders know about this. 

I’m starting to think maybe when I hit my head in that car accident or, perhaps when my abusive ex hit me, he may of hit me harder than I fucking thought dude! 

Like, there may be some neurological damage at play, physically, not just, the result of trauma (which is very significant I’m not undermining that but- imagine, in combination.) 

And does, virulent exposure from a young age, come into play too (virulent exposure, high fevers, extreme illnesses can sometimes cause brain damage or tissue scarring) ? Does genetics? In utero? Childhood experiences, development, attachments, identity? 

There is so much that comes into play when you’re understanding the neuropsychology of someone’s brain. Many factors. 

I don’t know, exactly what all led to the perfect storm, concauction of things that brought me to the point where I am, 19/20 years old and I’m looking in the mirror and unable to recognize myself, physically. 

It was out of touch like, this surreal detachment whoever I was looking at wasn’t me it didn’t register as me. It was so ducking strange, and I hated it so much, the confusion it brought me that I stopped looking all together. 

I would say actually, (now that I’m remembering) god i feel like throwing up talking about this time.... so much dissociation and anxiety lol I’m very intensely uncomfortable right now and will have to do some breathing exercises. Like this is too much for me to handle to the point of being physically sick but yeah.... i think it was the beginning of a downward spiral for me. 

This point where i stopped looking in the mirror, to care for myself. And i was so depressed during this time i couldn’tg et out of bed, except to use the restroom... 

dissociating and panic attack-ing a little bit, feel very ill. Experiencing some physical symptoms which i can’t go into detail right now because i feel to ill to continue focusing on it. 

Needless to say this is very difficult for me so I have to go think about something else for a bit but yeah that is a nice new chunk of information to add into the big patchy gap-y memory of mine 

*vomits* lol 

#ptsd is so fun wow 

i want to continue writing and documenting my symptoms but, the more i focus on them the worst they get. The longer i write this the longer i have to continue feeling sick to my stomach.

os i have to go.... watch Netflix and take deep breaths. And if my body won’t stop tensing up, maybe take a klonopin lol 

um... *takes a 15 minute break watching Netflix and comes back* i have a ahead ache but anyways 

interestingly at the same time i had this revelation.... i also was simultaneously remembering a glimpse of recently when i went to the hospital and had to uh... get some help because i was having a severe panic attack 

this was before i was prescribed benzos so... yeah it was beyond what i could handle 

and it’s dangerous for me hard to explain, I’ll get into that more detailed another time but 

yeah um..... *sigh* 

I’m exhausted holy fucking Christ this is tiring to write about but yeah um.... 

i just, i think they’re correlated is what I’m trying to say. Like, the reason why i have these panic attacks to the point my entire body is shaking head to toe uncontrollably and it looks like I’m having a weird seizure where like 

it’s just, a mess. Lol my legs are like, moving like.... jumping around, and my hands are trembling that i can’t even take a pill 

um... i think this, whole thing, these panic attacks are related to, whatever caused, the identity dissociation in the mirror. 

These two symptoms are from the same core trauma. Is what I’m trying to say. 

Like, i don’t know, why i have these attacks sometimes, i dont know whats causing them. But yeah I’m sort of tying. It together in my mind and like, obviously they come from, i believe the same source which is, 

trauma that happened to me when i was in mexico??? 

And I’ve had more trauma after that point as well but, i can distinctly tell the difference between a ptsd panic attack from, something related to homelessness, or, the feeling of one related to a different significant trigger like feeling lost or abandoned, (two separate feelings) and, then, the feeling of the kind related to the mexico trauma are the most severe i would say- next to the ones that are triggered from violence and suicide/death. And then the ones that are related to uh... fuck I’m forgetting. 

My head hurts. Focus.... yeah oh yeah. Okay. I remember. I was just about to say “can’t remember guess this post is over bye” but yah i remembered lol 

panic attacks related to food. I guess. 

I remember one time yeah, like. I was sitting in a restaraunt and this guy started talking about rape over dinner conversation and i had to get up and leave the table and sit outside. I said i needed to smoke but that was a lie i felt like sick and dizzy and just like on the verge of a severe panic attack lol losing my shit like, nervous breakdown 

and yeah uh.... i have that feeling always, that distinct feeling, surrounding, that same type of trauma.

What I’m saying is I’m realizing there are different traumas related to different feelings 

and this feeling is terrible and nauseating so I’m going to stop thinking about it and go focus on something else now cuz i really ca’t are it anymore. Goign to be difficult but... i need to just focus on something else and take a klonopin probably um cuz i feel very very sick ugh fuck me lol (might have a panic attack but yeah) 

*takes a break watching Netflix* 

Ill be fine. I’m ok. I feel better now it’s all fine lol