Story I thought I was recovering.

[minato]

I'm not good at putting my emotions into words. I don't know where to start. Where do my memories begin to be "me"? Do I really feel that way or is it just part of me?

I have dissociative identity disorder. I've been diagnosed a year ago. I'm trying to put the pieces together. It's hard to try to live a life that somebody else didn't want so you have to pick up the pieces. I didn't ask for existence either.

I remember two years ago I had a job working in a factory. That was me. I remember the cold and the mess the machines made. Sometimes I feel like my life is like a machine. It was kind of comfortable. It was stable. But I wasn't happy. I think I tried to kill myself twice. I can't remember those parts. I don't know why I did it. But I wasn't happy. I wanted to be useful. Some people have a purpose. I wanted to have one. So I quit and went to school. I couldn't keep up with a full time job and class. I studied biology. It's funny how a man like a machine who wants to end his existence had the curiosity for the science of life and what makes us be. I think I'm chasing the answer through a scientific lens and not a philosophical lens. I don't know if I'll ever find it. I think that should be okay. Life is more than DNA and RNA and I can't understand it.

I think I liked biking. That was one of the things that made me feel alive. I also have pets. They make me feel important. I just feel bad that I'm only momentarily satisfied. My struggle to keep jobs impacts the way I am able to take care of them. When I can't afford food for myself or them I become depressed. I was homeless before. For years. I lost my cat from being homeless. If anything happened to my pets now I might actually go through with it for real.

Anyways.

I have a new job. I work in a warehouse still. And I haven't been to school in a year. It's too confusing and I can't drive because I have epilepsy. Nobody in my family wants to drive me there. My dad drives me to my job only because it's a five minute drive. It's been up and down. I work in the warehouse part of a retail store and it gets hectic and dangerous around this time of year.

I remember now as I write this the day I found out my friend died from heroine overdose. And another to tranquilizers. And then two more to a car crash. And then my great grandma. That was a crazy year. I think that year left me haunted.

This job is overwhelming me. I've gotten in trouble so many times. They get mad at you for doing anything. Nothing pleases anyone. I want to sleep most of the time when I get home. It's always something going wrong with me. I can't be perfect. I can't meet the standards. I'm fine one day and then the next I'm back to the day I was first working there. I wish my life didn't revolve around whether or not I was useful. I wish we didn't have to have jobs to be useful. I always thought when I was older I'd be a veterinarian or something. That's useful. I guess not.

I love nature. My grandma raised me to be appreciative of it. One thing about nature that I like is that when you pay attention to it you can watch the circle of life playing out. You may see a deer eating from a shrub. The same deer the next day may break a leg. And then it would know it was it's time. So it may find a place to die. Animals always find a place to die. That's why you don't really come across carcasses just when you're outside walking. They only die around humans if there was no other choice. They seek hospice just like us. Sometimes I feel like that deer, struggling to find hospice at the ripe age of 23.

I don't know if I should be complaining anymore. Compared to my life before, I'm doing better. I have friends, or people I can confide in. I'm not the type of person who trusts really easily so I am fine having a friend that I can talk to about the weather. I don't want anything personal. I have a house. My mom and dad support me being LGBT. They may have left me with horrible memories but I can forget them thanks to something helpful called dissociative amnesia. And it doesn't bother me a whole lot.

I'm scared of losing my job.

I don't know what I'd do.

If I died my lizard would be sad. When I was hospitalized for my suicide attempt he wouldn't eat. I think he knew.

I don't think about suicide like I used to do. It used to be a burn in my chest. An impulse to scream. But now it feels like an old friend.

 

[western_heart]

Hi I can relate to a lot of this… I also have DID and at the moment am living a life I did not choose. I'm glad you're employed and hope you can find a way to keep working.

I can't meet the standards. I'm fine one day and then the next I'm back to the day I was first working there. I wish my life didn't revolve around whether or not I was useful. I wish we didn't have to have jobs to be useful.

I feel this so much

 

[donewithyourview]

I'm sorry for what you're going through. Sometimes it helps to remember that recovery is not a linear process, that there are setbacks and pitfalls positioned every step of the way.

 

[LookingOverTheEdge]

Honestly, whilst my background is entirely different to yours, I imagine we're both here for our own reasons, and both living in our own kind of hell.
I would suggest that you not be so hard on yourself. If you thought you were recovering, then it seems to me you haven't completely given up yet. If you're still here, it means on some level, you're still fighting.
In my humble opinion, that makes you stronger than you give yourself credit for. To be in such pain and still be getting out of bed each day. I salute you.
I hope that things can turn around, even slightly, and you can find a happiness enough to keep fighting.

Also. You are not your job. And I don't think anyone who works to support themselves should be ashamed regardless of what it is they do.

 

[FuneralCry]

It does sound tiring and stressful what you have to experience. I'm sorry that you suffer. At least to me life does just seem to be endless problems and it can certainly be such a burden having to constantly struggle. But I wish you the best.

 

[deathbylife]

I'm not good at putting my emotions into words. I don't know where to start. Where do my memories begin to be "me"? Do I really feel that way or is it just part of me?

I have dissociative identity disorder. I've been diagnosed a year ago. I'm trying to put the pieces together. It's hard to try to live a life that somebody else didn't want so you have to pick up the pieces. I didn't ask for existence either.

I remember two years ago I had a job working in a factory. That was me. I remember the cold and the mess the machines made. Sometimes I feel like my life is like a machine. It was kind of comfortable. It was stable. But I wasn't happy. I think I tried to kill myself twice. I can't remember those parts. I don't know why I did it. But I wasn't happy. I wanted to be useful. Some people have a purpose. I wanted to have one. So I quit and went to school. I couldn't keep up with a full time job and class. I studied biology. It's funny how a man like a machine who wants to end his existence had the curiosity for the science of life and what makes us be. I think I'm chasing the answer through a scientific lens and not a philosophical lens. I don't know if I'll ever find it. I think that should be okay. Life is more than DNA and RNA and I can't understand it.

I think I liked biking. That was one of the things that made me feel alive. I also have pets. They make me feel important. I just feel bad that I'm only momentarily satisfied. My struggle to keep jobs impacts the way I am able to take care of them. When I can't afford food for myself or them I become depressed. I was homeless before. For years. I lost my cat from being homeless. If anything happened to my pets now I might actually go through with it for real.

Anyways.

I have a new job. I work in a warehouse still. And I haven't been to school in a year. It's too confusing and I can't drive because I have epilepsy. Nobody in my family wants to drive me there. My dad drives me to my job only because it's a five minute drive. It's been up and down. I work in the warehouse part of a retail store and it gets hectic and dangerous around this time of year.

I remember now as I write this the day I found out my friend died from heroine overdose. And another to tranquilizers. And then two more to a car crash. And then my great grandma. That was a crazy year. I think that year left me haunted.

This job is overwhelming me. I've gotten in trouble so many times. They get mad at you for doing anything. Nothing pleases anyone. I want to sleep most of the time when I get home. It's always something going wrong with me. I can't be perfect. I can't meet the standards. I'm fine one day and then the next I'm back to the day I was first working there. I wish my life didn't revolve around whether or not I was useful. I wish we didn't have to have jobs to be useful. I always thought when I was older I'd be a veterinarian or something. That's useful. I guess not.

I love nature. My grandma raised me to be appreciative of it. One thing about nature that I like is that when you pay attention to it you can watch the circle of life playing out. You may see a deer eating from a shrub. The same deer the next day may break a leg. And then it would know it was it's time. So it may find a place to die. Animals always find a place to die. That's why you don't really come across carcasses just when you're outside walking. They only die around humans if there was no other choice. They seek hospice just like us. Sometimes I feel like that deer, struggling to find hospice at the ripe age of 23.

I don't know if I should be complaining anymore. Compared to my life before, I'm doing better. I have friends, or people I can confide in. I'm not the type of person who trusts really easily so I am fine having a friend that I can talk to about the weather. I don't want anything personal. I have a house. My mom and dad support me being LGBT. They may have left me with horrible memories but I can forget them thanks to something helpful called dissociative amnesia. And it doesn't bother me a whole lot.

I'm scared of losing my job.

I don't know what I'd do.

If I died my lizard would be sad. When I was hospitalized for my suicide attempt he wouldn't eat. I think he knew.

I don't think about suicide like I used to do. It used to be a burn in my chest. An impulse to scream. But now it feels like an old friend.

Sorry I can't focus enough to read right now. I. Thought I was recovering but now I am slowly dying.