Posted in dissociative identity disorder, Girl blogger, mental health, mental health awareness, therapy, trauma, Wellbeing

The boy who meowed

I’m sitting here, dying my hair. I hate dying my hair, it’s such a boring and time consuming task.

I dont feel well today. The pit of my tummy feels heavy like lead, despite not having eaten in 16 hours.

Last night I had been woken out my sleep. I was dreaming that I was tucked up in a single bed and the door was ajar and Sienna was taking a 2 year old boy to the toilet. And the little boy was protesting about it but instead crying he was meowing.

I woke up with a start and with the sound of meowing in my ear. As i came to, i wondered if it was actually one of my cats stuck somewhere and I’d interpreted their meows into my dream?

I got up and opened doors but couldn’t find any cat. It must have been just a dream.

******* Triggering material ahead, mentions of CSA****************

I went to the toilet and whilst in there heard frantic scratching. There was definitely a cat stuck somewhere. I had a brief image flash in my head- me, a child staring down at a bit of blood on the toilet paper. I ignored it. I needed to find my cat.

I started to panic and started searching my house but i could not find one of my cats.

My searching woke up my husband. And we both looked.

I found my cat, sitting quite relaxed on the computer chair watching us search for her!!

It was 3:30 in the morning. I felt perplexed… what was the scratching i heard then? I stayed up feeling too wired to sleep.

I listened out for anymore scratching or miowing. But there was nothing.

Yet i still felt upset and confused. I was awake when i heard the scratching and it was exactly the sound my cats make if the get trapped in a cupboard or room.

It doesn’t matter really. It might have been that i wasn’t as awake as i thought i was. But i felt disquieted by it.

I drew the flash image I’d seen whilst in the bathroom. There was a need to externalise it. Yet i was pretty unsure why i needed to and i don’t even kbow if it’s a memory or a figment of my imagination.

When I finally went to bed, i had the most awful abuse dream. The perpetrator being a family member.

I woke up with a jolt once more and felt so heavily dissociated. I got up and went the kitchen for some water. Spoke to my husband briefly as he got ready for work and i went to the bathroom twice in 10 mins- the first time either i didn’t actually pee or i stopped mid-stream through being so dissociated. That happens a lot to me.

I had a stretched feeling down below. Like the act had actually taken place. So i wonder if it was a body memory?

I’ve felt sick all day. Nauseous and dissociated. I’ve slept on and off. I feel weakened and i feel wrung out. And there’s still traces of that foggy dissociated confusion. I feel the distant crying of a broken child. A disturbed and lonely child, inside of me, i know it’s a part.

So yeah, i feel pretty shit today. I have therapy this evening. I’m glad of it. I need my safe person.

I just want to tie my hair back, pull on the comfiest clothes I can find and just crawl in there.

Which is basically what I’ll do. But I HAD to dye my hair. Even though I really didn’t want to or have the energy for. But my roots were starting grow and the familiar silver that reminds me of my ever aging body was too obvious for my liking.

Getting older is terrifying me. The young parts are horrified to be housed in a almost 40 year old body.

I feel like my body is betraying me.

And really grey hair shouldn’t be too much of an indicator or getting old- i got my first long strand of silver when i was 14 years old!!

It seems ludicrous that with how i am feeling and what I’m going through that I’d force myself up to dye my hair.

But a teen voice wryly/cynically says to me

” Yeah, because the only thing worse than child rape is greying hair.”

And she’s right… sort of. For me aging is an affront. I can’t be old. I’m not ready. I have child parts who need to look their age – which is impossible of course but at least i can still get away with a more youthful style of clothing because I’ve always looked much younger than my age. But i am starting to see signs of aging and it panics all the parts.

Anyway that’s my day. It sucks. But at least I’ll have good hair. 🤣