Fighting to survive Disassociated Identity Disorder

Fighting the stigma against mental illness



From me to her…

Monday, July 30, 2018

6:33 PM

Sitting here craving the thoughts of placing my pen to paper once again, It terrifies me at times. Other times, I feel if I start to write it all out then I will never ever stop. I would be writing and correcting the things that come flying out my mouth, forever.

There’s days like today, my beautiful wife woke me up with breakfast in bed. She tried. You see, Chandra has stopped showing me any type of affection or genuine kindness, My life, as I have known it has ever changed. I took her for granted for all of those little things that she would always do for me. All the little things that she would say to me. I took them ALL for granted. My life has sucked really bad for the past well, let’s just say it’s been a bit now. Because, she stopped.

I only have myself to blame. I am the one who pushed her over her breaking point. I am the one who brought things ways to happen. I am fully to blame.

I miss her, I miss her so fucking bad. I miss everything about her. I miss the way she moves, her scent. I miss even her being close enough to catch a small glimpse of her scent. I miss hearing her laughter and know that I am the cause of it. I miss her touch. It’s hypnotizing. I miss just miss her. Anything any everything about her I miss. We used to be awake for hours on end just merely talking to each other. Nothing ever of real true importance, just talking. So, today was big. Because she actually tired.

And, then I go and fuck things up. I say something without thinking first, This does have to be my way of doing things. I never used to shelter my feelings nor my thoughts with her before and now I do. I guess, I became used to saying whatever it was on my mind and instead I should be thinking of how is it going to effect the person I am speaking to. Is it going to hurt any feelings, can what I am about to say, hurt anyone’s feelings. I am I just being a dick.

I am either bitching, chastising or criticizing. That’s all I hear I ever do. Now, I am getting angry, because I should be standing up for myself but because I miss her so deeply now, I will do what she hates even more than those 3 things. I will ask forgiveness in 20 different ways. Well, one of me will. One of my alters does it and it drives her crazy. It pisses her off even more. So, I am screwed. Living with other parts of yourself isn’t easy by any means. Life for anyone, isn’t easy. Try doing it with a few of you in your head and it can be enough to drive the sane insane.

My Sway




She opened my chest..

“What was said to the rose that made it open was said to me here in my chest.” – Rumi — —Though musicians Beyoncé and Jay-Z aren’t normal subjects for a blog about books and publishing, today they are the perfect entry […]

via Finding the Poet Rumi with Beyoncé — Kristen Twardowski

Chandra opened my chest several years ago; in the since of she has always loved me. No matter what was ever harshly said, even through the times of wandering around, being lost. She has always loved me, she has never forgotten how. When she said her vows, she f-word meant them. Our vows were written for us, by us. That day 4 years ago forever has changed who we are. We were a couple, that people have been jealous of, our love that we share. With that being said, the  past 2 years have also been our hardest that she’s ever had to endure. For I have been changing into someone who I really am. It’s taken 40 years to get where I am to be okay with who I am for all of us. I have several different types of mental disorders. Ones that can’t necessarily change or go away with any type of medicine. I have Borderline Personality Disorder and possibly in all reality Disassociated Identity Disorder. Which means, life with me can be either really good or really.. really bad.

I’ve never been loved before nor have I ever had someone in my life who is ever been so loyal. The writings that you shall read are only my versions of how I have seen things. There is a whole other side to the way of how things, events, certain times in our lives have went. One day, I hope to share her version as well. So, that the two versions can be compared.

Who am I really?

The days keep getting shorter and shorter; as I am told even more that the one person who I have always have been, is either a figment of a vast colorful imagination or the inner demons of a psychotic mind. What is the most devastating thing ever to me is the hurt and “twisting of thoughts” that turn into my sickened reality. What I would like to know is “how.. and why?” Does something like this happen to a grown ass adult, turning 40 actually. How does this type of thing happen to someone like me? Why can I not remember it all, who I am? The memories that others share about me yet, without me?

Nothing hardly ever got past me, hardly. I am not one to watch another’s every movements, but I am extremely aware of my surroundings. I just want my life back, I want to be that vivacious, strong, determined woman that she seeks day in and day. What I wouldn’t give to see her smile and too watch her laughter. To not have my feelings run all of my being. To have Sir be happy, young and actually enjoy his childhood. For him to not have the neighborhood kids tease him for my behavior. To never feel like I am someone’s burden. At the same time I want to be me; not having to hide all that lies dormate within Pandora’s secretive secluded box. The people who I’ve know my whole life don’t even know.. the real jist of who I am. My heart shatters because I am not who she fell in love with, I now share the equivalence of our boys to her.  A child.

The large amounts of pain that I continue to cause. I just wish I could’ve been there for her the way she’s always been there for me.

This is my story,  it’s not going to be the best blog  you’ve ever read. And it’s certainly not going to be the worst neither. 

Hell let’s face it, you may even get bored from time to time… However; one thing I can promise you,  is it will be realunsensored and most likely at times way too much to take in. 

This is my life… and with all good stories.. there has to have some kind of twists right?  All the signs point towards me having Borderline Personality Disorder. Not really sure if I do or not, but unfortunately I hit every critia… so this is my journey.

I am writing this as an outlet for myself in hopes of somehow grasping onto what was once my reality. And to see and hearing the love of my life.. smile and laugh like she once did. 


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