I recently joined PsychCentral and am trying hard to keep myself from falling apart to the point where I end it all. I do not want to do that, because for the first time in my life I am beginning to feel that I have a right to be alive and maybe be happy. Anyway, it's Xmas time and I'm all alone, no family, one friend in the world. I had a lot really awful stuff happened to me when I was younger, and know after all my years in therapy that my life was very bad, but I am only now beginning to grasp that in some ways I never had a chance even in the begining. My Dad gave my brother and I away when I was not even a year old, into the care of a raging alcholic, who mistreated us, because he didn't want our mother to have to deal with us as she was pregnant. Apparently we lived with this being for a year, at least. I used to think I was a ghost rather than human, and now I understand why. Ghosts can't be harmed they have no substance and can come and go at will. That would describe "me" my MPD to a "T".

I've always thought that because of some stuff that happened when I was a little older I had been really wounded mentally, but now realize that it was the first two years of my life that started it all. I didn't realize how strong my Borderline tendancies were because of this. I finally know and am trying to work with it, but find myself at a loss as to understand other people. When something happens I think it is my fault, rather than perhaps the other person is not the friend I thought they were. I realize I don't know how to trust, accept maybe my dog and cats because they don't have hidden agendas and seem to deal with what is right in front of them, and they are never unkind to me.

I know PTSD is the result of prolonged abuse or severe physical or emotional trauma and I know my story, but I still feel like a ghost, even after nearly 22 years of therapy. A few years ago I was working with a psych intern at a nearby medical school and as we went through a form that would allow me to guage the extent of my PTSD we discovered that every topic had some relevance, every topic, and there were at least 10 which included war, rape, physical, sexual and emotional trauma and then some. It is a nightmare when I think about it all. I guess what it comes down to is I need to get through my head that sometimes even if a person grows up in a family where both parents have master's degrees and look and act really good on the outside, it doesn't matter because inside the real "Bob" and "Margaret" were hideous monsters. My father made me help him bury a woman he "accidentally" strangled when I was five. Yet, he also used to call me his Sugarplum Fairy and nurtured a growing love of ancient history and the arts in me which is a part of myself I am very grateful for. How do I reconcile all this within myself and not want to die because I feel I am worthless or too damaged.