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I've used these forums a lot as a kinda diary, every now and again delving into them to write about myself to try and work out what on Earth is going on. I did it for my own understanding, and of course for the lovely responses, which always helped anyway. For those have been following my quest to cure myself, don't expect anything.
In a basic summary, age seven I had meningitis and I appeared to lose my memory. The illness isn't important, I think, but the age is. I don't know what happened and I don't think I ever will, but I developed amnesia and for the longest time I laid the blame as a side affect of having meningitis.
Except when I came to examine dates that I'd forgotten, while my memory before seven had been pretty much completely wiped, there were patches much much older, going right up to age sixteen. I was seventeen when I realised something was wrong, I'm nineteen now.
I started looking deeper at this 'amnesia', and where it had come from. I began to realise that this was not something that had been forced upon me, but I had forced it upon myself.
There was a nine year spread, of what I could guess, which was blanked up. I had pretty much shut it off.
So I started looking deeper into it, it became my life. I came to university, studying God knows what. I was distancing myself from everyone and anyone I loved, and I took to my bed. I sat in my room and drunk myself silly, letting the alcohol help me fight my mind.
Things started happening and I started remembering. My mind started reopening doors that I had closed a long time ago, and I started once again hallucinating, time was standing still and running off, I was blacking out, I spent hours staring at walls, I would check the time to find that hours past, but not just that, but I had gone down to the shops and bought food without even realising.
Naturally I fell apart. I knew there was something wrong with me, but I wanted to control it myself. I didn't want to go to doctors, to take pills to normalise me. I started to remember more, I pushed myself harder.
My girlfriend left me, and I realised that I had obsessed myself with my mind, destroying myself to understand myself, ending up depressed and alone. From what I can see, thought, there wasn't really an easier way to do it.
The worst feeling in the world , and quite possibly the most difficult thing to do, is remembering something you don't want to remember. There are things I don't mind mentioning, I tried to hang myself and the rope broke, hallucinations keeping me awake for far past me realising how long it had been, parents fighting, running away, the norm for the torn childhood... and then there are things that I would rather not write about at all. Basically it's all a little screwed up, you'll have to trust me on that.
And what then? Finally forcing myself to face the truth of my past a little more, I gave up. I couldn't possibly let myself dig deeper, for the damage it had already done to me. Perhaps I had destroyed so many of my years already, I needed to force myself to push on.
Easily said. More depression followed, the eventuality of trying anti-depressants just to keep me from killing myself. Killing myself from what? Fear, guilt? A lot of my memories I had blocked because I was afraid of becoming a monster. I realise that there are far worse monsters than me.
The real horror in this world is not fear or hatred, it is the realisation that in the end, it is nothing. To lose feeling, emotion. People going about their day, falling in love, apathetically lost in whatever they could to distract them from their 'horror'. The wars, the loss of life, serial killers, rapists, paedophiles. They are not the real horror. The real horror is they don't even matter.
I would tell you that I am emotionally stubbed, castrated. I would tell you that it was a lie, that I am well, I feel love, happiness, joy. I can tell you I am both, because in all honesty I am not sure.
Melodramatic perhaps? I'm afraid not, this story is far from over.
Perhaps it's easy to understand so far, but unfortunately it's now about to get a little more complicated. The newest revelation, now, is that I suffer from multiple personalities disorder. To some of you, this may not come as a surprise. Christ, some of you were the first to spot it, way before I did.
I have tried to kill myself more times than it's worth. There is, however, a part of my mind that I have created, somehow, that's assigned to keeping me alive as far as possible.
As I said, this may get a little complicated.
The personality that keeps me alive has no name, I don't even assign it a sex. You can call it whatever you want to, but I do not have a name for it.
I believe something happened when I was much younger that threatened my life and forced me to confide in myself. I guess having nobody to turn to forces you to turn inwards.
I cannot tell you how many personalities I have, because I honestly don't know. It's hard to tell which is which, sometimes. I know there's more than four, I can tell that much.
In many ways it's fantastic. It's a break from normality, the oddness triumphant over boring old simpleness. I wish to understand it better so I can basically joke about it. Humour is the grandest weapon in the entire world.
But unfortunately it's also troublesome. The reason now I realise I have so much trouble bringing back my memories...? Because my personalities have different memories, different experiences... different pasts. They all go along the same line. While perhaps one personality believes I was playing on a tyre swing at the bottom of the garden, another personality (I refuse to use names) seems to believe I was trying to hang myself. To be honest, I don't know which one is truth.
Naturally, I'm seeing a pyschiatrist. Naturally, he'll hand me ink blot tests, ask me what I see, I might say butterflies and flowers, I might say split skulls, I might tell him the truth.
I remember thinking when I was younger, how I dreamed to be 'mad' because all the mad people seemed to be so cool. I wanted to be crazy, because it'd make people laugh.
Times change, I suppose.
I'm trying to use my experiences to write a book, a novel. As confusing as all this is, I think what I've learned added to my imagination makes good story telling.
The hardest thing to realise is I can't trust my past. Nine years of creating a puzzle that I cannot solve, and another two years wasted trying to solve it. All I can do now is make sure my mind isn't going to explode on me.
Boo-hoo, eh? I'd tell you it was nothing more than another distraction to keep me from getting too bored, or perhaps pointless confusion to stop me from achieving real success in life.
Perhaps I'd say my inward tendencies had made me blind to the world around me, but then, perhaps my fight to make sure I help in the world no matter was distracting me from my own personal state.
But at the moment, I really just don't care. I wrote this out for me, and well, thought you might like the read too. Hope you enjoyed it, comments welcome, you can buy the soundtrack in the foyer.
In a basic summary, age seven I had meningitis and I appeared to lose my memory. The illness isn't important, I think, but the age is. I don't know what happened and I don't think I ever will, but I developed amnesia and for the longest time I laid the blame as a side affect of having meningitis.
Except when I came to examine dates that I'd forgotten, while my memory before seven had been pretty much completely wiped, there were patches much much older, going right up to age sixteen. I was seventeen when I realised something was wrong, I'm nineteen now.
I started looking deeper at this 'amnesia', and where it had come from. I began to realise that this was not something that had been forced upon me, but I had forced it upon myself.
There was a nine year spread, of what I could guess, which was blanked up. I had pretty much shut it off.
So I started looking deeper into it, it became my life. I came to university, studying God knows what. I was distancing myself from everyone and anyone I loved, and I took to my bed. I sat in my room and drunk myself silly, letting the alcohol help me fight my mind.
Things started happening and I started remembering. My mind started reopening doors that I had closed a long time ago, and I started once again hallucinating, time was standing still and running off, I was blacking out, I spent hours staring at walls, I would check the time to find that hours past, but not just that, but I had gone down to the shops and bought food without even realising.
Naturally I fell apart. I knew there was something wrong with me, but I wanted to control it myself. I didn't want to go to doctors, to take pills to normalise me. I started to remember more, I pushed myself harder.
My girlfriend left me, and I realised that I had obsessed myself with my mind, destroying myself to understand myself, ending up depressed and alone. From what I can see, thought, there wasn't really an easier way to do it.
The worst feeling in the world , and quite possibly the most difficult thing to do, is remembering something you don't want to remember. There are things I don't mind mentioning, I tried to hang myself and the rope broke, hallucinations keeping me awake for far past me realising how long it had been, parents fighting, running away, the norm for the torn childhood... and then there are things that I would rather not write about at all. Basically it's all a little screwed up, you'll have to trust me on that.
And what then? Finally forcing myself to face the truth of my past a little more, I gave up. I couldn't possibly let myself dig deeper, for the damage it had already done to me. Perhaps I had destroyed so many of my years already, I needed to force myself to push on.
Easily said. More depression followed, the eventuality of trying anti-depressants just to keep me from killing myself. Killing myself from what? Fear, guilt? A lot of my memories I had blocked because I was afraid of becoming a monster. I realise that there are far worse monsters than me.
The real horror in this world is not fear or hatred, it is the realisation that in the end, it is nothing. To lose feeling, emotion. People going about their day, falling in love, apathetically lost in whatever they could to distract them from their 'horror'. The wars, the loss of life, serial killers, rapists, paedophiles. They are not the real horror. The real horror is they don't even matter.
I would tell you that I am emotionally stubbed, castrated. I would tell you that it was a lie, that I am well, I feel love, happiness, joy. I can tell you I am both, because in all honesty I am not sure.
Melodramatic perhaps? I'm afraid not, this story is far from over.
Perhaps it's easy to understand so far, but unfortunately it's now about to get a little more complicated. The newest revelation, now, is that I suffer from multiple personalities disorder. To some of you, this may not come as a surprise. Christ, some of you were the first to spot it, way before I did.
I have tried to kill myself more times than it's worth. There is, however, a part of my mind that I have created, somehow, that's assigned to keeping me alive as far as possible.
As I said, this may get a little complicated.
The personality that keeps me alive has no name, I don't even assign it a sex. You can call it whatever you want to, but I do not have a name for it.
I believe something happened when I was much younger that threatened my life and forced me to confide in myself. I guess having nobody to turn to forces you to turn inwards.
I cannot tell you how many personalities I have, because I honestly don't know. It's hard to tell which is which, sometimes. I know there's more than four, I can tell that much.
In many ways it's fantastic. It's a break from normality, the oddness triumphant over boring old simpleness. I wish to understand it better so I can basically joke about it. Humour is the grandest weapon in the entire world.
But unfortunately it's also troublesome. The reason now I realise I have so much trouble bringing back my memories...? Because my personalities have different memories, different experiences... different pasts. They all go along the same line. While perhaps one personality believes I was playing on a tyre swing at the bottom of the garden, another personality (I refuse to use names) seems to believe I was trying to hang myself. To be honest, I don't know which one is truth.
Naturally, I'm seeing a pyschiatrist. Naturally, he'll hand me ink blot tests, ask me what I see, I might say butterflies and flowers, I might say split skulls, I might tell him the truth.
I remember thinking when I was younger, how I dreamed to be 'mad' because all the mad people seemed to be so cool. I wanted to be crazy, because it'd make people laugh.
Times change, I suppose.
I'm trying to use my experiences to write a book, a novel. As confusing as all this is, I think what I've learned added to my imagination makes good story telling.
The hardest thing to realise is I can't trust my past. Nine years of creating a puzzle that I cannot solve, and another two years wasted trying to solve it. All I can do now is make sure my mind isn't going to explode on me.
Boo-hoo, eh? I'd tell you it was nothing more than another distraction to keep me from getting too bored, or perhaps pointless confusion to stop me from achieving real success in life.
Perhaps I'd say my inward tendencies had made me blind to the world around me, but then, perhaps my fight to make sure I help in the world no matter was distracting me from my own personal state.
But at the moment, I really just don't care. I wrote this out for me, and well, thought you might like the read too. Hope you enjoyed it, comments welcome, you can buy the soundtrack in the foyer.
Page:
Meka Dragon wrote:
"Does finding out that you have multiple personalities help you to make more sense of things? From this post, I guess it does, and, sorry if I'm wrong, but you seem to be able to cope with it."
I'd really like to say it's the end of some twisted game that I've been playing for God knows how long, but it's more like the empty, tragic ending to something you desperately wanted to be simple. Wrap up, kiss in the rain, then a list of all the people I knew and cared about rolls down the screen. There's no end, no magical twist that makes you sit up and think... but just this, just the explaination to something that in the end didn't really mean anything.
I am not a bright, happy person. I may be naive to happenings in this world, as we all are, but when it comes down to it, I don't care much about anything.
The person that always wants to give someone a chance is no more than a voice in my head. The guy that doesn't want to kill himself, end this tedium of watching my emotions slowly fade away into nothing, is a character, a dream. Someone I created because in all honesty I find life ridiculous. If I couldn't laugh at it, then the other guys about me wouldn't have a clue how to stop me.
But I know that I should stay alive. I know it because it's been drilled into me, it's a kneejerk reaction. While my instinct is telling me to die, I've convinced myself that my instinct is wrong, but that in itself won't kill the instinct.
So what would 'curing' me solve? To take away my personalities, to try and crush them into one wouldn't work. They conflict, and the strongest would win.
Multiple personalities come from a split, something that happens during the maturity of the mind, something that forces the original personality to hide away, and to let another take over, a face, in it's place. The original personality is hidden away, out of sight.
I'm sorry, this is extremely hard for me. My head's a bit of a war, it's hard to realise what I'm trying to work out.
But basically, my original personality, I hid. I tried to remove all evidence of it in my mind. I believe it's because my original personality wanted to kill myself, but I'm not sure of the reason.
The only reason I can cope with the suicidal thoughts is for the quite stern opposite of my thoughts in my head. For as much as I wish to believe that the ups and downs of life aren't worth the hassle, I am convinced otherwise by, what I guess is what remains of my split half. The one who didn't want to die, I suppose.. no, more the one who just thought killing yourself was stupid.
While my current suicidal feelings are more of the fear of feeling emotion, originally I wanted to kill myself because I believed I was turning into a monster. Turn the page, start again.
Maybe everything WOULD be better if I could retrieve whatever it is I'm hiding, maybe things would be better. But I'm not that naive, I've seen the damage of miracle cures before.
I think I used to feel a sort of contagious contentment, the sort of feeling of no worry that spread like wildfire to anyone I cared to infect. I'd love to feel that again, instead of this emptiness... and the last time I felt it was due to drugs, and I can't allow that to be the only way. Times pass.
"Does finding out that you have multiple personalities help you to make more sense of things? From this post, I guess it does, and, sorry if I'm wrong, but you seem to be able to cope with it."
I'd really like to say it's the end of some twisted game that I've been playing for God knows how long, but it's more like the empty, tragic ending to something you desperately wanted to be simple. Wrap up, kiss in the rain, then a list of all the people I knew and cared about rolls down the screen. There's no end, no magical twist that makes you sit up and think... but just this, just the explaination to something that in the end didn't really mean anything.
I am not a bright, happy person. I may be naive to happenings in this world, as we all are, but when it comes down to it, I don't care much about anything.
The person that always wants to give someone a chance is no more than a voice in my head. The guy that doesn't want to kill himself, end this tedium of watching my emotions slowly fade away into nothing, is a character, a dream. Someone I created because in all honesty I find life ridiculous. If I couldn't laugh at it, then the other guys about me wouldn't have a clue how to stop me.
But I know that I should stay alive. I know it because it's been drilled into me, it's a kneejerk reaction. While my instinct is telling me to die, I've convinced myself that my instinct is wrong, but that in itself won't kill the instinct.
So what would 'curing' me solve? To take away my personalities, to try and crush them into one wouldn't work. They conflict, and the strongest would win.
Multiple personalities come from a split, something that happens during the maturity of the mind, something that forces the original personality to hide away, and to let another take over, a face, in it's place. The original personality is hidden away, out of sight.
I'm sorry, this is extremely hard for me. My head's a bit of a war, it's hard to realise what I'm trying to work out.
But basically, my original personality, I hid. I tried to remove all evidence of it in my mind. I believe it's because my original personality wanted to kill myself, but I'm not sure of the reason.
The only reason I can cope with the suicidal thoughts is for the quite stern opposite of my thoughts in my head. For as much as I wish to believe that the ups and downs of life aren't worth the hassle, I am convinced otherwise by, what I guess is what remains of my split half. The one who didn't want to die, I suppose.. no, more the one who just thought killing yourself was stupid.
While my current suicidal feelings are more of the fear of feeling emotion, originally I wanted to kill myself because I believed I was turning into a monster. Turn the page, start again.
Maybe everything WOULD be better if I could retrieve whatever it is I'm hiding, maybe things would be better. But I'm not that naive, I've seen the damage of miracle cures before.
I think I used to feel a sort of contagious contentment, the sort of feeling of no worry that spread like wildfire to anyone I cared to infect. I'd love to feel that again, instead of this emptiness... and the last time I felt it was due to drugs, and I can't allow that to be the only way. Times pass.
Does finding out that you have multiple personalities help you to make more sense of things? From this post, I guess it does, and, sorry if I'm wrong, but you seem to be able to cope with it.
Whether you'll ever find all of the answers you want to, the most important thing is not to dwell on this, but to make the most of all of the good things in your life. But having spent so long in the past chasing answers, I guess you know that?
Anyway, I'm waffling about things I have no understanding of, but having read that, I wanted to wish you all the best.
Whether you'll ever find all of the answers you want to, the most important thing is not to dwell on this, but to make the most of all of the good things in your life. But having spent so long in the past chasing answers, I guess you know that?
Anyway, I'm waffling about things I have no understanding of, but having read that, I wanted to wish you all the best.
Grix Thraves wrote:
> rawwkkk
>
> I can keep a beat now! yay!
Foot and hand and foot and hand and maca-roni, maca-roni, maca-roni cheese.
Foot and hand and foot and hand and maca-roni, maca-roni, maca-roni cheese.
(The macaroni bit obviously being 4 snare's, 4 high and medium tom's, and a final, single tom. Quite possibly the greatest fill ever)
> rawwkkk
>
> I can keep a beat now! yay!
Foot and hand and foot and hand and maca-roni, maca-roni, maca-roni cheese.
Foot and hand and foot and hand and maca-roni, maca-roni, maca-roni cheese.
(The macaroni bit obviously being 4 snare's, 4 high and medium tom's, and a final, single tom. Quite possibly the greatest fill ever)
There's nothing much I can say to that, ohter than I enjoyed reading it and it was interesting, to say the least.
Grix Thraves wrote:
> Oh dear, no, I'm not in pain or anything... this is.. erm, more like
> where I am at the moment and what I'm trying to figure out a bit
> better. Foundation of today, you know? Thanks for the luck though, I
> think I'm quite lucky anyway.
*feels like a prized idyaat*
> Oh dear, no, I'm not in pain or anything... this is.. erm, more like
> where I am at the moment and what I'm trying to figure out a bit
> better. Foundation of today, you know? Thanks for the luck though, I
> think I'm quite lucky anyway.
*feels like a prized idyaat*
Yeah, I did enjoy it.. if that's the right word...
It was definitely interesting.
Sometimes I toy with the idea of manipulating a split personality to overcome my lack of motivation. Like a lazy half that knows what I want to do, but can't be bothered (the normal me, I think :^s ), and basically, my b****, that does the hard work.
I found that if I could tap into my inner b**** (I'm of the opinion that we have a bit of every personality type within us, which can potentially be isolated) it worked reasonably well. It just cut off any questioning thoughts that might mean I'd weigh up wanting to do something against whether it was worth it, and let me just do it.
The results, given a bit of practice, could probably have been fairly good, but the process scared me a bit.
I still might go back to it though. I'm finding myself increasingly apathetic, nothing feels 'worth it', however much I rationalise to the contrary.
I start a new (temping) job next week, the first since coming off benefits for my leg. I figure I might need to use my inner b**** just to get out of bed in the morning.
But I don't want to create a schizophrenia in my mind, what if I lose control of it?
Good luck with your gig Grix, I hope you work it out in the end. If there is an end as such.
It was definitely interesting.
Sometimes I toy with the idea of manipulating a split personality to overcome my lack of motivation. Like a lazy half that knows what I want to do, but can't be bothered (the normal me, I think :^s ), and basically, my b****, that does the hard work.
I found that if I could tap into my inner b**** (I'm of the opinion that we have a bit of every personality type within us, which can potentially be isolated) it worked reasonably well. It just cut off any questioning thoughts that might mean I'd weigh up wanting to do something against whether it was worth it, and let me just do it.
The results, given a bit of practice, could probably have been fairly good, but the process scared me a bit.
I still might go back to it though. I'm finding myself increasingly apathetic, nothing feels 'worth it', however much I rationalise to the contrary.
I start a new (temping) job next week, the first since coming off benefits for my leg. I figure I might need to use my inner b**** just to get out of bed in the morning.
But I don't want to create a schizophrenia in my mind, what if I lose control of it?
Good luck with your gig Grix, I hope you work it out in the end. If there is an end as such.
rawwkkk
I can keep a beat now! yay!
I can keep a beat now! yay!
It's weird, since you told me this, I've been trying to remember any times where you'd obviously changed from one person to another - I think I just summarised it all as generally "Being Darren". Made me remember the first time you explained all your different characters and so on, I never really grasped it at the time, but I'd like to think I'm starting to - though, I don't think I ever will completely, there's that whole "welsh" bit :p
I hereby nominate this summer, the summer of rock. We have the 4 of us, a few cars, a load of amps and a festival to be at. Next year, we headline it ;)
I hereby nominate this summer, the summer of rock. We have the 4 of us, a few cars, a load of amps and a festival to be at. Next year, we headline it ;)
ah, sorry, it's taking an age to load today..
um, well... I'm not always entirely -aware- when a different personality takes over. I know when I write out big things like this I use the one that's been keeping me alive... but other times it's set off by a reactant and surroundings, not by me.
um, well... I'm not always entirely -aware- when a different personality takes over. I know when I write out big things like this I use the one that's been keeping me alive... but other times it's set off by a reactant and surroundings, not by me.
Ju§t TinkŠ wrote:
> *Emblushens*
> *Emblushens*
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