Too tired and abused to feel anything

I’ve been dissociating all week. I felt nothing, and thought about nothing. My head is blocked again.

I was completely unable to work. It’s been two months since I was last functioning.

I’ve been reaching out to people cause that’s what ~healthy people do!~ but I just end up exhausted. I regret one every two sentences I say, and it makes me want to rip off my skin.

I feel so fucking abnormal. I’ve been alive for two decades yet I can’t have a fucking conversation like a normal person.

They did this to me. They made me into this.

I’m still being abused. These pieces of shit look at me and just see a lazy stupid fuck that they can use for whatever they want.

I just want to be loved. I’m so tired of suffering.  I can’t believe I’m still alive.

Year recap I

I decided to write a year recap to clear my mind. As always, remembering things is hard for me, so writing is really useful.


I’ll start with the end of last year, cause that’s really where this past “cycle” started. I had recovered from a lot of my mental health symptoms and I was really proud of that, since I did it with a lot of  hard work, and on my own (treatment is not easy to get where I live).

However, as time went by, I still wasn’t feeling okay. Then I realized something: is not about me. I feel okay, I’m okay with my life. It’s the things that are outside of me are the ones that make me unhappy. And one of those main things was my family.

I realized that my family made me feel a lot of pain. At the beginning, I didn’t understand why, but I started thinking. And realizing things. I started reading my old diaries from when I was 13 to 18, since it was really hard for me to remember my life up to that point clearly. Then I started remembering things.

And that’s when I started seeing the truth: my family is filled with crazy motherfuckers, and I’ve been abused. It all made sense. My life made sense for the first time ever. So did all my mental illness, which up until then I couldn’t understand why I was ill.

(I accidentally found out that I have ADD too, which was also depressing).

So what so I do now? I guess I have to move out as soon as possible. I was desperate for money, but I hated the idea of going back to the type of jobs that I had had in the past. (I had a horrible experience, I’ll talk about it some other time). Luckily I came up with the idea of working online, as a freelancer, and LUCKILY it worked. So during those two months where I was setting things up for my new job, I pushed the “abuse thing” to the back of my head.

Then December came around, and I started to feel unwell. I didn’t make the connection, I kinda forgot about the abuse. I just got really depressed in only a couple of days. It was brutal. All my BPD symptoms came up so hard. All day long (and I mean all. day. long) I only thought about is how much I wanted to be raped, and beaten, and murdered. Hated by all the people I care about. I couldn’t sleep, and I had no energy. Standing up or going to the kitchen was physically painful. I was barely eating. My stomach problems were at their worst, so I had to go to the hospital for medication.

I saw abuser B during those weeks, but I barely remember anything from it. I do remember that their asked me why I didn’t want to see their family, since they “miss me” and “don’t understand why I’m so distant.” Fucking hilarious. I said I just didn’t feel comfortable around them. “We have very different personalities, we just don’t click.” Of course that’s not the truth, I don’t want to see them because they treat me like I’m worse than trash, but they would tear me apart if I ever said something like that.

I was so nervous when we had that conversation, I was shaking. Later on, I saw their family only for a couple of minutes. They asked me if there’s anything going on, if they did something wrong. “Is it about the things that we said about [family member]?”

That’s it. That’s the only thing they could think of. Something that is not even related to me. They can’t think of any occasion in which they were a piece of shit to me. And the funny thing is, [family member] is also my abuser, so I couldn’t care less about the shit that they’ve got to say about them.

Anyway, December passed, and during January and February I was just as depressed. I was feeling really suicidal too. In one occasion, after something that happened with abuser A, I actually considered doing it. I was waiting to cross the street in a corner, cars were coming, and I considered to just keep walking. I didn’t.


Relationships: 404 not found

Since I’ve decided to stay more active and not think too much I’ve been feeling better, but this week I had some down time due to my physical health and that wasn’t good for my brain.

I’ve been thinking about something that’s really sad. I kinda feel like it’s “stupid” or “small” and I shouldn’t pay attention to it, but it’s something that can happen in the future, and it’s gonna make me feel like shit, so I won’t downplay it.

Basically I’ve been thinking about how hard it’s going to be for me to open up to someone. If someone happens to like me back at some point in my life, they’re gonna want to know about me and my life.

How the fuck do I tell them that I’ve been mentally ill for a decade? That I’ve been low functioning for the last 5, that I hate my family, that I’ve never had sex, and that sex triggers a shit ton? That I barely have any friends, that it takes suck a big effort for me to maintain a routine, and shower, and eat? That’s is going to be so hard for me to be in a relationship because of my trauma and my BPD? That’s everything is going to trigger me, and that at least half of the time I’m going to be completely unable to interact with them? How do I tell them that I can barely work, that I had to drop out from university? That because of my trauma I can barely remember anything that’s in my past?

It’s going to be so hard for me to hard sex, meet their families, be with their friends, be open with them, solve conflicts. Just fucking impossible.

If I ever am in a relationship it would have to be a really serious one, where the other person really cares about me and loves me, and wants to help me and see me happy. But when am I going to meet someone like that? I don’t think that is impossible, but it will take years. I’m getting old already, I’m the beginning of my twenties. How old will I be when I have my first relationship? 26? 28? 30?

I know that there are people who have been single for a longer time, but I can’t help to feel like that’s depressing.

And it is. It fucking is. I’ve been completely alone my whole life, I really need someone that loves me, but that’s probably not going to happen for at least a couple of years. I’m fucking tired of waiting. So it’s not a small thing. Cause even when I do have a relationship, it’s going to be a fucking nightmare.

I seriously can not explain how easy it is for me to get triggered when I interact with people. My BPD acts up all the time, and for the smallest thing I feel like I’m a piece a shit and should do everyone a favor and kill myself. I even think that people who genuinely care about me are lying and just waiting for me to die so they can get rid of me.

Even tough I want to be in a relationship, it’s going to bring me so much pain. Maybe I won’t even be able to take it and I’ll have to brake up with them.

I’ll be the most abnormal girlfriend a person could have. I know that I’m a really good person, and that I would never do anything to hurt my partner intentionally, but it’ll be so hard for them. Maybe they won’t be able to take it, and they’ll be the one that wants to break up.

So yeah. My past is shit, and so is my future.

Scattered thoughts

I want to write about what I feel but I don’t really know what I feel right now. As always, life feels like a dream.

I been working hard on focusing on my job, so I can move out one day.

The idea of being outside this house feels so surreal. I can not imagine being a ‘person’ with a ‘life’. I can’t imagine having my shit together enough to function as an independent adult.

It’s going to be so surreal (if it ever happens) when I go around life, meeting people, and knowing I can’t talk anything about my past and the fact that my life is so fucking abnormal.

Sex abuse came to my mind while I was writing that. I want to talk about it but it’s long and complicated. I have symptoms, and triggers, and fuzzy memories, but I have nothing concrete. Although if I  had to go with what I feel, I would 100% say that I was abused.

I don’t know, I feel like it doesn’t matter anyway. I was used by everyone around me when I was a child, it makes no difference. My past self doesn’t exist, I’m just a dissociating bubble floating through time.

I guess that’s what I’ve learned from writing on this blog: there has never been a moment since I was born where I wasn’t fucking dissociating.

I’m so fucking old. Maybe I’ll never get to live my life the way I want to. Maybe it was too late, they ruined my life forever and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I don’t know. I just have to take it one day at a time I guess.

Bonus: yesterday I remembered how during the past summer I was going through such a hard episode of depression and BPD that I didn’t have the energy to eat/cook/shop for food, to the point where I was eating so little I could see all the ribs on my chest.

But yeah. I just need to move on, right? Live my life, be present!

I can’t. My mind cannot stay inside my brain, it’s too painful.

Can the owner of this body come pick it up?

I have to do a task or I might loose my only “stable” job. As always, my mental illness makes everything really hard, so I’m stressed out. I guess I’ll be fine. Hopefully.

Another frustrating thing is that I had to look at myself through my webcam for several hours today, and surprise! That’s triggering.

I don’t know, for many years I thought “Oh well, I’m insecure, a lot of girls are” but the reality is that my discomfort with my body has many layers. It’s not just insecurity.

For starters I don’t know what I look like, for several reasons. One is that I practically never look at myself in the mirror. I remember when I watched, after many years of filming it, a video of me when I was 15. I was shocked, it was like looking at someone for the first time. It wasn’t bad, I thought I looked cute. I was sad that at the time I wasn’t able to see it.

The other reason is my OSDD-1. I’ll probably talk about that more in the future, but basically is a dissociation disorder (“Another disorder?” the crowd gasps in disbelief. Yes!).

I can only explain it as a mild form of Dissociative  Identity Disorder. The person doesn’t have completely formed alters (incorrectly called “personalities”) or long periods of amnesia. Instead, they have what some people call facets, or less defined versions of alters, and no amnesia. This is caused by trauma at a really young age.

Basically, I’m kinda divided in three parts. There are two parts of me that aren’t me, and there’s also the “real” me. And those two other parts aren’t females. So… you guessed it! Gender dysphoria ensues.

I know it sounds incredibly bizarre, but that’s all I’ve ever known so I’m used to it. And when you grow up being abused by your family,  the standards of what “normal” is don’t really apply to anything.

Pretty much all of the time my facets are fronting (OSDD / DID terms) so they don’t really identify with my body.

And when I do think of my body, it is mostly about how much I want to hurt myself.

Clearly I don’t have an ideal relationship with my body. And then when I’m forced to look at myself, it is a really uncomfortable experience.

So, after having to do that for several hour today… Borderline Personality Disorder is knocking on the door. I started thinking about how horrible I look, how no one in this earth will ever fall in love with me, and how much I want to fucking die.

I managed to talk myself out of that spiral of thoughts, but I still fell quite shitty. Being mentally ill sounds super fun, right?