(disclaimer - I am only talking about me here. Just Me. Not passing judgment on anyone else except myself.)
I guess I'm one of "Those" people now. The crazy ones. The one that blanks out frequently and then startles when their friends snap their fingers in front of their faces. The one that has those weird marks on her legs. The stupid one that cut her wrist instead of being content with cutting up her legs. The one who can't be satisfied with the memories she does have, but has to go digging new ones up. The one who is so screwed up that she can't figure out what memories are real and what are not. The one who has panic attacks over the littlest things. The one who can't enjoy or laugh at a stupid little joke but panics instead. The one who freaks out when her completely innocent, adorable daughter hugs her from behind. The one who freaks out when her wonderfully, fabulously, patient husband rolls over in bed and touches her, even on accident. The one who has to dig up her past and try to make sense out of memories and events that have lay perfectly dormant and non-threatening for years. The one who can't go anywhere without having child abuse issues thrown in her face - all the time anymore at work. What the hell is wrong with society? Is there not any custody case where abuse is not a factor anymore?
I'm the one that hears voices in my head. Battling back and forth. One saying I'm an idiot, making this all up, crazy, lunatic, out for attention, stupid, shameful, dirty, deserved it, and all those other words. The other saying that it's okay and I'll get through this and to just hang in there.
You know those people that just seem crazy? They have all those problems and issues and always seem to be in a crisis? The ones no one really wants to talk to or be around for fear of being sucked in. Yeah, that's me now. Except I don't tell anyone about my issues/problems. Because I know better. I know what happened in childhood when I told. I know what happened when I tried to talk to friends in middle school/high school. I was the weird one with the weird family. The one that everyone thought was odd because I couldn't keep the stories straight about why I couldn't join certain clubs, do certain activities, have people over to my house. The one that was seen as odd for not remember what version of what half-trust I had told to what person on what occasion. I was seen as a liar. I was seen as out for attention. So I just keep being the professional helpful one that helps others deal with their issues, while I ignore mine. I try to play the "I'm okay" or "it's nothing" game.
When I was about 12 or 13 I had horrible cramps. Took some ibuprofen. Then went to an activity where I had to run a mile and try to make it under 8 minutes. Pushed myself hard. Immediately before the event I took some more ibuprofen. Then couldn't remember when I had taken it so took more. Counting back later, it appeared I had taken about 12 or so. Got extremely sick. No one believed I didn't do it on purpose. Mom punished me and degraded me. No doctor call or hospital visit for me. Just shoved me in the car, drove me home, sent me to bed, and told me to quit it. Years later, when my sister actually took pills on purpose with the intent to commit suicide, Mom punished her and yelled about the hospital bills. That's all Mom cared about - the bills.
I had my suicide attempts later. But I kept them secret. Didn't tell anyone. I never wanted to be accused of doing it for attention. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on the day) I didn't succeed. I get mad when people think that SI is a suicide attempt. It's not. I have never thought of it that way. Never ever done it with that intent. For me it relieves the pain or the numbness, depending on the day and time. It is as if I can cut the emotional pain out and replace it with physical pain. I know how to handle physical pain.
I don't want people's pity. I don't want their sideways looks like "there goes the crazy one."
My husband tells me to just talk about it. He doesn't understand that I can't. That I want to. That I open my mouth and there is stuttering and gagging and nothing comes out. I KNOW I need to talk. I need to LET GO and give up this tight rein on my emotions. I KNOW I need to let God in on this process. I KNOW I need to stop trying to restrict the memories and block them. I KNOW I need to stop SI-ing and develop better coping mechanism. But I don't know HOW. No one has an answer for that. The "how" part. Other than to "just do it." Yeah, as if it were that easy.....