Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) Support Group
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bluedragon41
So...someone talked me into telling myself I was awesome in the mirror...uh...
My alters kind of flipped out, one came out on top of me, had to be calmed down...
It felt like all of the me's were trying to pull apart but since we're all me-parts we could not get loose, like we were all gummed up in rubber together.
Then I slept for 16 hours. I had dreams of crying and running away naked.
Then i woke up...I've been getting an intrusive thought of an anus where my face should be...
Not even a normal looking anus but one that needs to go to an STD clinic really badly.
Some me-part is really mad at me.
Yeah, I feel pretty awful. AAAAARGH! This shit sucks!
Can't I be normal???
My alters kind of flipped out, one came out on top of me, had to be calmed down...
It felt like all of the me's were trying to pull apart but since we're all me-parts we could not get loose, like we were all gummed up in rubber together.
Then I slept for 16 hours. I had dreams of crying and running away naked.
Then i woke up...I've been getting an intrusive thought of an anus where my face should be...
Not even a normal looking anus but one that needs to go to an STD clinic really badly.
Some me-part is really mad at me.
Yeah, I feel pretty awful. AAAAARGH! This shit sucks!
Can't I be normal???
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That resonates, and I only have one me-in-me that I know of. (I never rule out the possibilities.) I can't do it. I can't see me. I can't look. It makes me nervous and nauseated to try to look in a mirror and *see* myself, let alone say, "Hey, me, I'm worth something".
Big hugs of support and calming purrs to you, BD. I don't mean to be irreverent, but all I could flash to during your OP was, "OMG, my sister called me a dripping butt-face once" and I just had this urge to smack your dream for being like my sister.
"Mirror Therapy" was quite fashionable in Pop Psychology in the early to mid 70's when I was making my first broken steps toward psychotherapy. It triggered me into some epic, psychotic flights. La Femme Nikita looked for a man to protect her when she encountered me in the airport ladies room.
Fast forward about a quarter century, when I finally got with my amnesia therapy program and . . . turns out none of my Janes, Johns, rapists or bullies liked ugly girls. Compliments on my appearance are a rape trigger. I am getting better at using mirrors in my self-care, but. . . Still don't much care for them . . . I spend more time with my pipe wrench. . .
Ah-h-h-h. . . Details, details. . .
Whatever the pesky, little detail in your mirror. . .
Hope healing happens here.
Continued support while you sort, blue. Easy does it.
when I wash my face, that get ready sort of thing, I think I just look real quick to make sure there is no soap on my face and off I go. I don't really look, not yet.
and, I agree , you are way too awesome for normal :O) hugs