Dissociative Identity Disorder - Wires On A Bomb

This is an inside look at someone who is going through a dissociative state. The thoughts are scattered and you will see various internal conversations. I wrote this many years ago and found it today on my computer. Today, I am no longer dissociative but I am amazed at what I wrote. I titled it Wires On a Bomb so I will leave it that way. #mental illness #dissociative #did

Here it is:

so much wiring within

It is unstable - I know.

Jittery, moving about ever so slight but it does not need much to explode.

Can I figure out which wires to remove before its too late? Do I dare to try? No matter what I do--except to enter a catatonic freeze--will increase the possibility, the odds of its blast.

So what does one do? Twisted, fragile, so not wanting to be at this moment, this point in time, this crisis ---again, again and again.

Seconds feel like hours, and hours prolong like days...especially if you pause, to pray or gain some kind of controllable ease.

I speak, and what comes out is sweet and kind---the way I like to be. Interact, exchange, and the responses I receive don't resonate like love, interest or concern. I feel like a blemish that needs to be removed. 

Odd, cold, weird. Out of place.

I hug, to touch another human with the gift of love.... to connect, to be re-assured "it's going to be OK." I should have remained alone in my darkened room, gone back to sleep. Went to the comfort of the co-operative computer screen---at least there, I find beauty to absorb and be absorbed, an exchange. It does not answer back with the rub of coarse sandpaper.

Who in their right mind would sandpaper the wiring on a bomb about to explode? Foolish... but how could they know or see---they don't feel what I do. They can't see within me as I move in normalizing words, like "Can you unload the dishwasher?" 

I reach in to get a glass. I think milk would be nice.

"You forgot to use the lemon crystals..." "Yep" "Remember next time. I can tell by the look of the glass..."

"Did you go see tigi today?" 

"Why do we have to call him tigi?" 

That's it - the wires moved... "I can't take it any more!" I walk quickly down the hallway to my room... full swing of emotion washes over. It is best to remove myself to keep the damage low.

The wire pulled with that one question... a flash of emotion sparked, not a complete blow, but enough to make me mad, and uncomfortable.

reflection: why question the name 'tigi'? is it because I thought of it? you don't like me or anything to do with me? I know. you want to live in the world you create. you don't want to be disturbed. you don't want me to be part of your world or at least the smallest bit as possible. 

madness: why are you so insensitive? how hard is it to respond? a simply answer to a question - yes or no? or in any pleasant way? why question me? you only questioned a name---a name given to a stray cat? why does that irk me so? is it because in the morning when I wanted to relate, you shut me out? you ignored my presence? I even helped you and you pretended i wasn't even there. For hours, you lived in your room, and i in another. you didn't even notice when i left. no communication. no contact. no love. Am i hurt? 

rejection: Did you set into motion the spinning top of rejection? Is this what has been twirling within all day? What made me feel unease? What makes me want to walk lightly? What made me tired, and in need of sleep?

 Can anyone understand the amount of work, the constant level of monitoring? It must be exhausting. The amount of brain capacity it must take to live in so many levels, to move in and out, to think one is safe. And with fear and trepidation I should go, but I do not. I venture out as if I am unlike any other, putting my best foot forward--the nice dress, the brushed hair, the fresh face, the caring heart, the casual talk---the thought that just maybe I could be---I could exist like every other soul.

He doesn't even know how he has hurt me? I only remain in silence... if I speak I may hurt him, cause another pain. So I am mum.

It is hard to watch yourself from the inside out. To see the underside of a electrical panel, the circuits. Who lost the schematics -- the manual of the design? Doesn't God know how to rewire? How to follow the instruction manual since He is the Designer?

Maybe its too complicated for humans with such a little mind to comprehend. We would with certainty clip the wrong wire. Might make it worse. And He doesn't want to manifest uninsulated through a human being. It is through another that is His way to touch a life. His mere all-powerful presence may blow us to the smithereens if He was to step completely into our time and space. It would be too much to behold...blinding...scorching...all-consuming. He has His ways in which He must move for cautious reasons beyond our comprehension.

Just a dust... a particle...would be enough... I do believe. I believe in God. (Do you? - don't know why I feels so compelled to ask that- forgive me if it seems odd or out of place... it pressed upon me to be typed, so I did--try to understand.)

I don't like this. The way I feel. I separate myself and lock the door.