Without a name

I’m disappointed in myself.

Apparently a new part came out to my therapist today. I don’t know her (my therapist is assuming she is a girl) name, only that she is 12 years old. I guess she and my therapist talked for a long time because my session ran over two hours. I wish I was there for the conversation.

She told my therapist she thought I was mad at her. I guess she heard(?) my increasing frustration over the last week or so about peeing my pants. I didn’t blame anyone but myself – it’s an issue I’ve dealt with for most of my life, and just as likely for those time periods in which I have no memories of. She took my self-criticizing and I presume believed that I was criticizing her; she told my therapist that she pees herself out of fear.

As my therapist is relaying some of the conversation back to me, I’m sitting on the couch across from her thinking how horrible of a person I am. In criticizing myself, I hurt another part of me in the process. I still have difficulty acknowledging that these parts can hear me. I forget that they are there. I lied. It’s not that I have forgotten. I purposely try to ignore their existence at times because I just don’t want to deal with it. I still refer to myself as I and not we. I don’t talk about my system. I haven’t yet owned my DID. And now, I’ve become just another person who has hurt these parts. I’m sure they’ve been hurt enough. I hate that I have added to their burden. It’s no wonder most of them are in hiding. I’d hide from me, too.

With my background in psychology, I should know better. Yet here I am, damaging my own parts as if they haven’t been damaged enough. There’s no handbook for this. I could read all the books in the world and still not have all the answers. This shit isn’t easy.

I just want a simple life.

2 thoughts on “Without a name

  1. Hi,

    It’s very hard to acknowledge them all the time. They serve as living reminders of your experiences and that’s not easy. I don’t see a horrible person, but someone who can be rather hard on themselves sometimes I know the feeling. You all matter and it was brave of her to talk with the t. Sl

    >

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s