Dissociatedbi - This Blog Is My Therapist's Idea

“They call it dissociation. I call it containers in which I horror-stored. Each of which have to be opened, reheated, rolled out like a lava carpet and crawled on.”

— The Nine | Tara Hardy

Not me listening to The Little Mermaid soundtrack and crying about not feeling like a person anymore after my TBI

Something that drives me fucking crazy is when I have trouble with word finding or remembering something, then explain it's just a brain injury problem, and the person responds by saying something like "oh I'm the exact same way!"

You're not the exact same way, if you can read without technology assistance, if you can hold a job, if you can stay verbal 100% of the time, if you don't have to wear an emergency bracelet with your husband's phone number on it any time you leave the house without him, if you can drive a car, etc. It's not the fucking same, stop being an invalidating tool.

on Tuesday I'm seeing my GI doctor to find out if I'm getting an ileostomy and I am absolutely freaking out about it. deep breaths

Well I finally managed to get my ass up and take a shower for the first time since the funeral so that's something. I feel kind of ridiculous for not showing for a week but at the same time I feel extra extra clean now because the contrast is so stark lol

After a year of trialing other injectable migraine treatments that barely worked because our insurance company changed the formulary- my appeal was FINALLY approved & I get to go back on the medication that actually helped!!! Never in my life have I been more excited to stab myself in the stomach, lol.

losing your skills and abilities to physical disability can be so scary. especially when you don't know where it's going to end. where the same day a year ago you could walk unaided and now you can't cook while standing. it's okay to be afraid, to mourn what you used to do and what you might have done. nobody is allowed to tell you that you have to be positive, be a "warrior" of your condition, or that you can't mourn.

I have a medical issue that's triggering sensory flashbacks multiple times a day for the last couple of weeks and I'm SO TIRED AND OVER IT.

There were people complaining about how I'd ruin my rapists life by reporting him but I'm 32 fucking years old and cant function like a normal human. Someone complain about how they ruined MY life.

Being sex trafficked as a kid in broad fucking daylight in the United States is dystopian af, and gave me a dissociative disorder. I'm on three psych meds. Every time I go to the hospital or a new doctor, they see "PTSD" in my chart and tell me my symptoms are anxiety, and that has almost killed me THREE TIMES.

My trafficker is free. My rapists are all either free or dead. The one I took to trial got everything expunged from the records. Somehow he even got the news articles taken down.

And I'm just... Still here. Still trying to cope. Still living in fear of people who probably don't think of me at all.

I'm getting back to a level of chronically ill where I'm like "wow I am actually very seriously sick all the time and not able to manage and facing the possibility of an incredibly drastic surgery" and I really really don't like it. I'm just over here hurtling towards the point of no return, preparing to have a huge organ removed from my body but having to suffer with it for the next 5 months while I wait for referrals, and I'm just tired and scared and sick.