Today on Lili's page she talks of moving on from rage and mourning. It made me feel so inspired. Have i told you all before how much i admire Lili? Well, this is certainly no exception. i think i could write here for the next 17 lifetimes and never finish my mangled tale of events. Ever heard the term polyfragmented dissociative identity disorder? This is a label i got stuck with this last trip around to the boobie hatch. Oh how those people love those labels. Essentially it means you are fucked. No, seriously. Big time, super, mega fucked. Lets take a plate as an example. Plate should be in one piece. Okay, now lets drop that plate over and over and over and maybe play frisbee with it and throw it up against the wall a few dozen times. What do you got? A shit load of plate pieces. Some fairly big bits like myself that hold up okay mostly. Some tiny pieces that will crumple if you put too much weight on them. Some pieces that no one knows where the fuck they are. A fucking mess, living in the middle of nowhere, and just now, finally at 29 years old waking up to the fact that she didn't deserve any of this fucking shit and guess what boys and girls? i'm mother fucking FURIOUS! Nothing anyone has said has given me an iota of comfort, fuck free will, and karama, and any other fucked up thing that left a dirty little girl tied up in the heat or the cold days on end finally begging for piss to drink and razor blades stuck up in her, all in her. Fuck a world where i was nothing but a goddamn human tissue and every girl i knew was in the same boat. Fuck not being able to sleep at night for the screams, for the blood, for the shame. Fuck them all.
Lili, although my therapist says that memory work is the most important and hardest part stage 2 healing i had lost all faith in her. You... you i never loose faith in. Thank you for giving me back my hope. In you quiet way. Thank you Lili.
