Like a cornered animal...

Hello there once again - I will bother You a little tonight with my story and engagement into a discussion and some silent and stealth lurking.

It was 26 may 2000 past 10 pm (22:00) and I was sleeping in bed of my parents - father was not home and my greatgrandma was sleeping in other room snoring like thousand of satans. I woke up - dunno why - and since my mom was possibly still awake and the light in the corridor leading to the room was on I walked out of my bed to find her and to tell her "goodnight" or possibly to drink a glass of water.

When i walked into the living room I found her laying on the floor, pale and cold - i think she was still breathing, yet lightly. So surprised and a little afraid I started to wake her up. Firstly I whispered to her, then talked, then shook her arm, shout at her, brought some water to pour on her face and finally -while crying, which possibly woke my grandma - hit her cheek with my palm. When this did not work I just stood up, called both of my grandfathers - told them what has happened - and called for an ambulance. Which arrived about 11 pm - followed by my grandfather. They tried to revive her using this electric device which name in English i do not know. I don't remember if I was afraid, I do not remeber if I cried more. I was told to go to sleep - what I did since i had to go to school. After school I was supposed to have my birthday party because my birthday was in the middle of week and that day -27 May 2000 - was a Saturday.

I remember being avoided - I believe that they feared I would start to ask them questions like: "Whers mom?" "whats going on?" and such. My father was laying on the bed numb for four days straight - standing up only to use wc or to eat or drink - without a word. After that he asked me to be strong - to help him. So I was strong, as strong as I could. I saw that all of adults whom I believe to be most reliable, safe and tough beings in the whole world fall like a cut grass. Funny: I was standing - I - mere 11 year old kid and they were laying. I did not cry - only at her funeral - because i thought that at funeral You are supposed to cry.

Days after that I felt more and more empty - I did not feel love, loss or anything like that. Every complicated feeling like mercy or hatred or loss faded away, I could be scared or angered or happy. But I did not even thought that there is something wrong with me - I did not even have any remorse because of the fact I did not mourn her or miss her.

I don't remember her face. Her voice. I have only few memories of her left. And I am 20 years old. I am as empty as I could ever be. I do not posses a single thing. Miss a single person. My father who lately broke up with his wife (but they did not get diverce - dunno why) told me that I am luckily nerver to feel this sort of loneliness. I agree - He is sad because someone whom he loved left him - and he miss this person. But he is never to feel what I feel. Emptiness of dry world.

I described other of my personality traits or elements in other thread placed in ASPD subforum - but after several books and articles read i think it would suit Schizoid Personality Disorder subforum better.

And the reason for me to grant You access to my story and possibly some entertainment is my curiosity. I realised that somehow I can feel two different feelings towards specific object at the same time - more or less. When all of the $hit hit the fan I created like simplified version of myself - like: one which could cope with situation - like wild cornered animal seeking it's way to survival. Funny thing is children usually do such thing and after crisis is gone this second "program" vanishes. I start to think mine did not and bewildered. Sometimes I want to have a job, and sometimes I just disire to fight. I admire wonderfull women only to hate them afterwards. I see the worlds beauty and almost puke because of obscenity oh humans actions. Out of the blue i start to feel anger and hatred towards random people - just because. I don't like being touched - it makes me feel uncomfortable, kissing disgusts me and sex - well thats even more funny - doesn't matter if it is me to make it, or accidentally hear/see/whatever - it makes me burn with hatred so great, rage so powerful my teeth rattle and all my muscles get tense. It is a feeling created out of anger and fear - which makes me tremble with urge to kill - literally. Luckily so far I menaged to control myself. Beside of that I am very rarely aggressive and I am afraid of physical confrontation.

So - dear people of Psychoforums - what is wrong with me? I mean besides the things I described in other thread. Does my current state fall under the definition of symptoms of PTSD? What are Your general thoughts?

Dear Urd

Why put labels upon yourself? What good are they?

Is it not enough that you are in pain? You know that. So would anyone who reads what you have written. And most likely - most people around you also see that you are suffering - whatever 'cover ups' you use.

What matters is this:

1. Recognition that there is suffering.
2. Find the cause of suffering
3. Find a solution to the suffering

No. 1 i established.

No. 2 is perhaps why you are looking for a diagnosis - so that you can come to No. 3.

The diagnosis may be bereavement reaction. It may be PTSD or it may be a personality disorder. It may be depression. The sum total of it all is this:

Ignorance.

Not in a 'bad' way. But in a general and sort of Buddhist way. Ignorance means that you do not know what you really are. And when you do not know what you really are - you suffer. Because you are detached from your true identity and are trying to find your identity in place and things where it can not be found.

Solution to suffering is the right knowledge.

Understand this:

The story of your life is not what you are. That story disappears when you are asleep. It disappears when you are old and demented. It disappears when you are watching a good movie or having a good conversation with a friend. It disappears many times during the day when you are walking, talking or eating. It revives itself only when you reflect back and remember.

Through fragments of memory you create a continuous story. A tragedy, happy one, sad one, or indifferent - it does not matter. It is a story nevertheless. then you call it 'my' story. Then - you act the part of that story.

Greeks knew it well. The word persona means mask. Your personality that you wear is the mask on which your story is written. We forget that that personality is just that. A mask. It is not what you are. Story is just that. It is not what you are.

Understand your self. Learn Meditation. Read Eckhart Tolle and Adyashanti. Understand what life and death means - really. Forget about diagnoses and labels - they are just masks. Stop wearing the masks. Accept your feelings and embrace them. Find out who it is that dies and what it is that does not.