Apologies. *slight trigger warning*

Desiria wrote:If you look at it from a physiological standpoint, it's actually quite a good coping mechanism. Quite distracting, really.To bourbon: I'll try my hardest and tell some of my closest friends with DID, since they're most likely to understand. I promise I'll try. I feel sort of bad now...

There is no need to feel bad I just am very very aware of what a slippery slide anorexia is. I remember being a young teenager and actively thinking 'well, it won't get out of hand, I'm in control of this'. And you aren't. You think its a good distraction/coping mechanism when really it is the worst. Anorexia is very very dangerous. It takes you away from good healing, which may feel like a blessing sometimes because good healing is hard, but that healing is still going to be there, waiting for you to pick it up again. Only, you then have the extra pressure of trying to recover from anorexia too. Try to just find other coping mechanisms, other positive ones, and throw yourself into those. Honestly, I know what a lure anorexia is. But please, take it from someone who now has life long problems because of it: don't let it get you. I'm sorry for being pushy. I just... care.

-B

I understand.
It sounds like you care. I just honestly don't like people caring about me/us personally, but...

Ell: Why are you uncertain whether the compliment was deserved or not? Not saying you shouldn't feel this way, as I do a lot when people compliment me. Part of it is because I don't feel like I deserve to be respected (if that makes sense) and the other part is just because I don't like people complimenting me because that means they care, and I don't like for people to care about me.
Now, why I complimented you? I think you are wonderful people/alters deserving of respect, partly because your words have a beautiful sort of.. flow to them (Magdella a'Lilit, respectfully) and your air just seems to... command respect. In a good way, of course. I feel, just, so odd talking to you all in such an informal air. I feel older sometimes, my way of talking switches a little, I sound older, more mature, more... graceful way of speaking, but that time is not now.
*nod*
Magdella a'Lilit: I'm good at writing, but that was just... powerful. Thank you. *nod*

*Trigger Warning for abuse, violence*
Abuse/does this all add up?

this is everything.

was born 3 months early at 1 pound 4 ounces, very bad eyesight, had to get laser eye surgery at 2 months of age and still have to wear glasses, was in hospital for 2 months+no love+no support+physiologically damaging bully episode in 3rd and 4th grade, was called names and laughed at every day at school, FOR TWO YEARS, my parents tried everything, even contacted principal and yet my parents never asked me how I felt, only took me to our world's most horrible therapist+if i do something bad then Mom sometimes spanks me and slaps me and one time I did something wrong and she yanked me by my shirt and started yelling at me and got spit on my face+my parents can easily put on a facade out in public and act normal+Mommy and Daddy don't love each other and Daddy sometimes says bad words to Mommy... +I hate her ignorant parents and would love to rip their vocal cords out. The mom's always whining about this and that and swear she f--king knows her daughter! Not true at all, people. The parents have probably both suffered abuse, the mom was abused by her mom, "discipline", and the dad sometimes verbally/emotionally/physically abuses his wife. They've both threatened to kill each other... etc.
=DID and abuse from my parents?

ah, for myself when one is gentle with me, i find it agonizing. a conflict of emotion in this. i would take a bed of thorns instead of feathers. but i am glad for your words.
ell

Thank you Faith and Shadow. Because I am not as fluent in English often when I write it falls flat. In time I hope to improve a little.

Parenting is an oath and it wounds when broken. It seems this would be harmful. It is said children grow on love. I believed to have two parents meant should one fumble the other would catch. If neither would act, it magnifies individual failures of each. The child bears the brunt of such. It would tear a child's world asunder. To raise a child thus is to build a wall of stone without mortar. The stone as foundation, but with gaps between it, it does not hold on its own. This would bring many torments - most of which beginning with why. The last of course is a profound mystery.

You are fierce and strong. You are thus because you permit yourself to feel things rather than deny them.
Magdella a'Lilit

Maybe it's not abuse... Now I'm going through denial about that, too.
It's just I've gotten so used to it...
Gotten harder to distinguish truth from lies, sarcasm from tease and bully... I can't take compliments because then I'll turn them around and make them always seem something bad...
Yes, I'm "strong" for making it this far, and for not giving up, at least not completely, but I don't feel the part...
Don't know if I want someone to hold me... Don't know if I didn't really not deserve this... this everything... I don't know if I want more pain... more abuse from everyone... more breaking more of every thing I always want and think I deserve... I want to be hurt more and disrespected more and broken more until this person, this shell is broken and dashed and dashed and dashed against hard words and bad places until I can tell them the tightening of chains killed me instead of my own hand...
Am I supposed to feel this way? I feel bad...
The fire cleanses, but the poison does also, and purges all impurity and good from the body until it is nothing but a shell of itself...
I don't think I was ever happy...
I still want to be hurt more...
-Faith

I'm sorry, was I being too rude?
My apologies. *nods*

you did not offend. there are some who say my proclivities run toward abuse. of course there is a case to be made for it, in terms of the light. whether madness or no, there is comfort in the familiar. the love i have known was not gentle. it was love on the knife's edge - from storm to song. suffering and pain provokes a certain passion. it is then i see myself truly, naked and vulnerable, holding the balance of that moment. i will be dark and say where some would identify abuse and insult, i see what i was, what i have been, what i would be. that i am mislead is certain, but no more than anyone who has experienced what i have. it is thought to accept love, the kind of the light, is something obscure. it retreats from what is expected. it is as though i had sailed on a ship for many days, expecting to arrive in india. when the shore did not come, finally i took leave at ellis island, speaking no english, lacking shoes for winter, and reluctant to accept this new continent for how it felt alien and wrong. to feel worthy of this alien love, it is a fresh wound. if one calls abuse a death of the spirit, it is a slash from the grave. one sees the failures of abusers take the stage, when before their actions were part of normalcy; in turn one accepts the role of victim. many times i have created pleasure where there was none, especially in this realm of what i would call religion - destruction as the other hand of creation, but others inside might call abuse. never have i thought myself a victim. even now i do not find any touch offensive; the only way back to myself when lost is to pass through a stranger's bed. it is a song i have not unlearned, nor would i want to. but the dissonance is a lesson in its own right.
ell