I can’t put a value on the cost of the few who help us.
I can’t explain the gratitude I feel or the hope it has created in the darkest places.
I fear not being obedient enough.
I recognize that I have a disorganized attachment style and love feels too dangerous.
It sucks to know your own mess and still struggle to fix it.
I want nothing more than to walk in my destiny and advance the Kingdom.
It still hurts.
All of it hurts.
all of us hurt.
I’ll never admit how much it hurts because I think it’s too much for even you.
My little parts don’t have a concept of time. If you say you love them, it’s as if you always have, yet they fear you won’t tomorrow.
We still struggle with self-harm often but nobody knows it.
We know Yahweh sent us here, but we don’t know how to separate fear from trust. We feel them both all the time.
Feeling like a burden makes us always say we are fine. It also makes us feel worthless.
We obsessively fear that there is even the slightest chance that it could have been true that “we split over 2000 times due to shame”.
We still think parts are lying about some things…like astral projecting and portals. I’m not convinced that those things are real.
Not being able to tell who is up front makes us feel like we are faking DID.
When you hug us and we are not in crisis, we won’t admit that it changes something inside.
We won’t tell you about the power it has to break down walls or build doorways and windows.
We won’t tell you that nobody ever did…ever…there was never once safe touch even as an infant.