Thoughts about my persecutor. Trigger Warning.

I wanted to write about the persecutor of my system. Her name is Alexia, she is around 28 years old.

As I write this, Alexia is yelling. I placed her in an imaginary copy of my current surroundings for her to destroy. This is happening now, as I struggle to function while she destroys and yells in fury, harming everyone around me in the safe corners of my mind.

So, when did she first appeared?

The earliest memory I have of her, probably, was when I was 11 years old, when things got really creepy with me.

Something happened. I became extra aware of the world suffering. So I changed.
I was always a fearful but also cheerful girl. Always with a quiet smile. Always wanting to talk and ask questions. Amazed by new things and new stories. Easily entertained. Loved everyone, even my brothers who didn’t like me.

But something that I can’t recall happened.

And I gradually but dramatically turned into a completely different person. I threw away my toys, i no longer laughed, I stayed away from children my age. I didn’t want to be touched. I became skeptical and cinic. I appeared even more mature than I was for my sudden changes of taste. I began despising things, one more thing everyday.

I’m not really sure, I can’t recall events. There’s a video of christmas where my mom talks to the camera “I wish my daughter finds the light again” while hugging me, I stared away. Those times I also began telling my mother I wasn’t her daughter. That I wasn’t even human.

But that new personality, who seemed invulnerable, quickly got exhausted and broke, leaving only pieces of the girl I was.

I was then diagnosed with major depression primarly and several other things.

I had an imaginary friend whom I called for help. I asked him to take me away from this place. He never came, obviously. My suicidal thoughts began. I didn’t want to die, I just didn’t want to be here. I felt I didn’t belong in here.

I was angry at my imaginary friend for not helping me. I was angry at everyone…..

A lot of stuff happened in the darkness that I’m not going to detail right now. A few years passed. The suicidal thoughts were numbed by a lot of antipsychotic drugs and other things. I was actually completely numbed. Learning at school was impossible for me. I couldn’t even stay awake and alert most of the time.

An opportunity arrived. A story contest. My imaginary friend (who now is Antef, my main protector), who was actually now helping me stay grounded (instead of staying out of place), wanted me to write about the inner world I created in the darkness, while I was being numbed by medicine.

I need an antagonist…

Imagining her wasn’t hard at all. She appeared as someone who randomly enters a room announcing herself. A curvy blonde with golden cat eyes, older than me, wearing dark revealing clothes, slamming the door behind her and crossing her arms. Slutty eyes, but at the same time unwelcome eyes. The sort of stare someone would have that wants sex (if you have the honour to be her type) and kill you immediately after. And probably have more sex while you’re still warm.

“What the ###$ do you want?” She says, despising me already.

I didn’t even make any effort to know who she was. She is the one that gave me nightmares. She is the one that killed me in my dreams. The one that enjoyed inserting chaotic thoughts in my head. She loves blood and gore. She loves violence. And I can’t stand violence. She is highly sexual. And I, at the time, even considered myself as completely asexual (for not saying I was disgusted at sex). She hates me and my imaginary friend who is helping me. The only thing I didn’t know about her is… “why?”

She is now the antagonist to the novel series I'm writing. She laughs when I cry, and cries when I laugh.

Today, I got angry at my job. And I could hear her scream. I wrote this trying to calm her down. It helped.

Does this sound like a persecutor to you?

I do not have much experience as it has not been that long since we have even admitted to ourselves we in fact do have a dissociative disorder, but our new Alter, Evora, sounds in some ways similar. Evora is full of anger, rage, at the past horrors she experienced, she is willing to lash out at the rest of us pretty randomly it seems.

I m not a professional, I can only offer my perspective. I have alters that remind me of your description. When that part of you was originally hurt, they came to conclusions about what would keep them safe, improve their homeostasis, and reduce their pain. Depending on the alter, you may be able to make peace with this one by 1) encouraging them to talk about why they feel the way they do, 2) offering support with as little judgement as possible, and 3) if they are willing to listen, offer your own perspective on the situation, since it's possible that you know something that they don't.

Some of my alters have been receptive so long as I am as unassuming as possible - they wanted tolerance and respect for their opinions, emotions, and decisions. Granted, there were others that felt attacked simply because I wanted a conversation. Those ones I just tried to listen to - it seemed to help.