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Nov 01, 2019, 10:35 AM
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Member Since: Oct 2019
Location: You'll never know
Posts: 940
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I can relate to what you're saying, @Só leigheas
You write very beautifully, by the way.
For me, or at least parts of me, I thrive on certain eustresses, certain calculated risks that allow some of my parts (and me) to problem-solve. We liked the kind of chaos that maximized our self-efficacy and our psychological hardiness. When under pressure to perform, such as in the military, or when meeting deadlines at work or in school, my parts and I banded together and got the job done. I used to love doing PT, or physical training. I loved to conquer heights and feel part of a unit. Today, however, I forgot what that feels like.
I loved to face others' traumatic encounters with ease, too. It was easier for me to rescue others than to rescue myself. I thrived on the kind of chaos that others had experienced, only to find ways to calm the storm later. I thrived not because they were suffering, but rather because I could play an integral role in ending or reducing their suffering. I felt alive, energetic, and strong during those times, even though I had no idea about my own DID at the time.
Blackouts and lost time were challenges I could win, like a natural adjustment I was acclimated to throughout the years. It was easy to forget the chaos and traumas I had encountered from the past, which enabled me (in the past) to push forward and excel at the next challenge.
I love challenges to this day, the kind that bring about purpose and meaning to my life. Although I'm limited physically and emotionally, I'm mentally strong enough to thrive on thought processes.
Intellectualizing gets me all the time, however. It's a therapy-interfering behavior that pushes away emotion and quells the tempest within. I can intellectualize memories in the same manner that I once distanced myself from others' traumas, so the chaotic challenge in treatment and in life are met with thinking, overthinking, and being someone that I'm not.
When I'm bored, I'm proactive and find something to do. Otherwise, I sleep, daydream, or fall into some kind of self-hypnosis. When I'm calm, I wonder how long it will last. And sure enough, the choas returns.
I don't know if I'll ever get to the point of being in complete solitude, but I love the way you describe it and juxtapose it to chaos. Chaos seems kind to you, like an energetic friend that "calls like a Siren," as you say. Perhaps Chaos was kind, but it is understandable why you wouldn't want it back.
You've grown, and your story is poetic. It offers hope.
(((safe hugs))) I hope you are doing okay today. 
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