My mum is dying. As of two days ago she had 24-48 hours to live, but that time has passed. I feel like it’s only a matter of days now but I am not with her and so do not really know. I will find out via my sister when it happens. Just like my father, who died three months ago, I feel numb and nonchalant. Still more upset about the breakup up than the deaths.
How could S leave me? She said she would never leave me. I have never felt so heart broken and sad before. Maybe I’m making up the intensity of my feelings. I don’t think I could look her in the face if I saw her. Too painful.
Mother, I don’t care if you die. It sounds so awful to write it out but I let you go so long ago. You are a distant memory to me. To see you would pain me. A reminder of everything I didn’t have. Yet I’m thankful for the things you were able to offer. Home cooked meals. You met my physical needs. You got me into drama when I was a kid. You took us to and from all of our activities. You catered for my short films and took it so seriously. I appreciated that.
When did it all go wrong? When I grew up and needed more from you? When you rejected me for being in a same sex relationship? When you didn’t try to get to know me. When I became sober and began to remember the nightmares. When I watched your submission. When I realised you would always be loyal to him.
And we stopped talking. I led the split. I couldn’t do a false relationship with you. I told you about the ritual abuse but you shunned me and denied me. You gave me nothing. I am left with feeling I made it all up and the resentment was my problem all along. I have no proof. I thought you were a witch but who knows. You loved God. Will my mother and father be in heaven? Will I know the truth of my past before I die? If I had more time and inclination I would rummage through your things when you pass. But it’s been so long since I visited the house, I don’t think I could go inside. I don’t think I could stomach the air.
I am a 42 year old woman and survivor of satanic ritual abuse. I have dissociative identity disorder and experience complex PTSD symptoms. Despite this, I am relatively high functioning and tend to be very active and engaged in life. I started remembering my abuse at around the age of 25. Prior to that I had no solid memory of my childhood and things just felt blank. I was programmed to keep very busy in order to forget my abuse and so I was always on the go and doing things.
I was lucky to find an interest in the creative arts and filmmaking, so my pursuits have mostly been very stimulating and enjoyable, though hard work. Almost everything I did kept me away from myself and I would say that I was extremely disconnected from the way that I felt in general. I always felt something was wrong, but couldn't put my finger on it. When I discovered I had been sexually abused as a child, it was like my whole world changed and everything that I had felt or experienced prior to this was a lie. Everything, yet nothing, made sense. I wanted to pursue recovery and wholeness immediately, but the more I tried to do this, the more walls I kept hitting. Programming was inbuilt in me to 'not remember' and I thought I would die if I did. The paradox was, that I longed to die, and suffered suicidal ideation on an almost daily basis for over ten years. I had used drugs and alcohol from the age of 13 to self soothe and medicate and the turning point for me was when I hit a rock bottom with drinking at the age of 31.
I went into AA and that really kickstarted my journey of recovery. I learnt how to deal with life without picking up a drink or a drug and most importantly, I was led to my real saviour, Jesus Christ. Almost a year into being sober, I started hearing voices. I had heard these voices for a long time but had stifled them with alcohol and drugs. The voices were extremely loud and negative and told me to kill myself. I sought psychotherapy and prayer ministry and it was through these experiences that I discovered I had dissociative parts of self (multiple personalities). Since accepting this, I have definitely started to get better, although it has been a long journey. I am in my tenth year of sobriety and on a very personal, determined journey to find myself within my fragmented identity.
This is a blog about Dissociation, Satanic Ritual Abuse, God and other stuff.
I live in Melbourne, Australia. Please stick around and share your thoughts too.
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2 thoughts on “Death, dying, break ups”
oh dear sweet Jesus, I relate to your feelings about your mom so much.my parents are all gone now too. Such relief when she died, and bitterness,no closure,and denial. I hope we can talk sometime. I miss you 😔
My life as a dissociative 
oh dear sweet Jesus, I relate to your feelings about your mom so much.my parents are all gone now too. Such relief when she died, and bitterness,no closure,and denial. I hope we can talk sometime. I miss you 😔
I miss you too my friend. ♥️