emotional-pain

...our family became a place where you screamed for help but no one heard, not ever.

Emotional pain was the price I paid on the path to becoming a woman. So excuse me if I__ not clueless like a little girl.

One of the heaviest load so many people are carrying today is neither thoughts about things they lack nor things they wish to have, nor how to manage what they already have, but toxic words that have taken a greater portion of their thoughts and such words not just occupying a great part of their hearts, but also draining their very joy in life!

Our spirit requires freedom in every area of our lives. The barriers that stop our soul from free expression are doubt, guilt, resentment, and thoughts of lack or limitation.

What was he thinking falling in love with her again, opening himself to another world of hurt when she left__nowing she would leave? She was a lawyer, working in the big city, used to fancy things, a fancy life. She didn__ fit in his world anymore.

...the secret to writing is to get your own pain - shout it out till it hurts your throat - weep it into your pillow - then write it down ...

Everybody has scars; some are more visible than others, that__ all. But anyone without a scar is someone I don__ want to know because it__ someone who doesn__ feel things deeply. You have to understand loss to recognize a gift when you see it._ He leaned over and kissed her again. __ou are my gift. I want to be yours, if you__l let me.

Every time i see a butterfly, it reminds me of how precious life can truly be. To be able to turn from a caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly and fly away so freely and gracefully wherever she may please, without no one in the world to tell her what to do. I wait for that special moment in time when I get to live freely, without no worries, pain or tears. I just want to be happy. I want the laughter in the air without all of the pain. One special day I__l get to live my life just like that beautiful butterfly. I will no longer feel blue inside.

I lose it when I can't write. I feel sad and confused and fucked off.

How naive Lore had been, despite being the daughter of a father no one spoke of, despite the strange, incomplete conversations at her mother__ deathbed; how again and again she was caught up short by the discovery that other people had stories they didn__ tell, or told stories that weren__ entirely true. How mostly you got odd chunks torn from the whole, impossible truly to understand in their damaged form.

We__e too often guilty of thinking that our parents arrived on this planet as fully functioning adults on the day that we were born. That they don__ have pasts of their own prior to our birth. That the father is not also a son, that the mother is not also a child. My mother had a tough beginning, enduring things I know little about. And yet I more often discount her pain and overvalue mine.

After a bad trip, don't carry your luggage on board the next flight. Stay grounded til you figure out a new way to travel.

I__ serious, now let me know every time you see her cry. The thought brings me great joy. Hope.

Dissociative identity disorder is conceptualized as a childhood onset, posttraumatic developmental disorder in which the child is unable to consolidate a unified sense of self. Detachment from emotional and physical pain during trauma can result in alterations in memory encoding and storage. In turn, this leads to fragmentation and compartmentalization of memory and impairments in retrieving memory.2,4,19 Exposure to early, usually repeated trauma results in the creation of discrete behavioral states that can persist and, over later development, become elaborated, ultimately developing into the alternate identities of dissociative identity disorder.

her eyes are unfathomable to me, hostile, even, as if she had removed herself to a place where I cannot reach her - somewhere I cannot know.

We all have scars; both inside and out. Use your experience to support those who are going down the same road of destruction you once went down. Know that your past is worth more than the pain you once carried, because it can now be used to comfort and give strength to another soul who is suffering. Cherish your trials and tribulations as gifts; embrace these opportunities to share the grace you have been given.

I couldn__ trust my own emotions. Which emotional reactions were justified, if any? And which ones were tainted by the mental illness of BPD? I found myself fiercely guarding and limiting my emotional reactions, chastising myself for possible distortions and motivations. People who had known me years ago would barely recognize me now. I had become quiet and withdrawn in social settings, no longer the life of the party. After all, how could I know if my boisterous humor were spontaneous or just a borderline desire to be the center of attention? I could no longer trust any of my heart felt beliefs and opinions on politics, religion, or life. The debate queen had withered. I found myself looking at every single side of an issue unable to come to any conclusions for fear they might be tainted. My lifelong ability to be assertive had turned into a constant state of passivity.

Like a lot of people with mental illness, I spend a lot of time fronting. It__ really important to me to not appear crazy, to fit in, to seem normal, to do the things __ormal people_ do, to blend in. As a defense mechanism, fronting makes a lot of sense, and you hone that mechanism after years of being crazy. Fronting is what allows you to hold down a job and maintain relationships with people, it__ the thing that sometimes keeps you from falling apart. It__ the thing that allows you to have a burst of tears in the shower or behind the front seat of your car and then coolly collect yourself and stroll into a social engagement_We are rewarded for hiding ourselves. We become the poster children for __roductive_ mentally ill people, because we are so organized and together. The fact that we can function, at great cost to ourselves, is used to beat up the people who cannot function.Because unlike the people who cannot front, or who fronted too hard and fell off the cliff, we are able to __eep it together,_ whatever it takes.