dissociation and depression as coping mechanisms for abuse

May 1 2006 – a long time ago in another reality…

when nearly every person in my world was either abusive, or also being abused – or most likely, both.

Thinking Deep Thoughts again. Really not healthy to think rather than sleep.

I feel best when I’m alone. Well, not best. Safest. It’s a risk to let people into your mind/reality, to have feelings at all.

Anyone you let yourself care about, there’s potential for pain.

And sometimes your best defenses are breached and you can’t help caring. In spite of logic or whatever you want your calm, peaceful reality to include. In a way it’s dangerous to seek perfection, because that quest will always ruffle your calm, or even be capable of causing collateral damage.

They say that having kids is like cutting out your heart, putting it on a leash and letting it forever walk around outside your body. Well, it seems that everyone I let myself care about does this to me!

The very act of knowing people is tantamount to handing them each a knife and letting them whack away at my heart.

The worst part is I don’t even realize I’m bleeding most of the time….and neither does anyone else.

It’s nobody’s responsibility to protect me but my own, I know that…but either I’m really bad at knowing what I want, or I’m really vulnerable.

My veins are closer to the surface than most people’s apparently are…and my high tolerance for pain (something I pride myself on) is apparently a bad thing–I’m like a leper, too numb to realize that my wounds need tending….

Heh, I want to agree with the Dark Lord–emotions are fickle, mistrustful and nearly always wrong. They are a sign of weakness and should be of no consequence in life.

But deep down I have to acknowledge that emotions are powerful in themselves, moving us in strange directions to do things we never thought ourselves capable of–and they can also drive us over the edge to insanity, despair…

So by necessity, they command respect, deference…or acknowledgment at the very least…

Theoretically, u have to take risks in order to find happiness–it took me entirely too long to realize that. However, the thought creeps in: what If I’m wasting my time on the wrong risks?

Maybe what I want isn’t what other ppl want. Maybe I’m 25 years old and I still don’t know what *I* want.

Maybe…and here’s the really scary part……it’s too late for What I Want to even matter.

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