Therapy Bits

Your prompt for JusJoJan January 16th, 2025 is “personality.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

Thanks to Astrid for today’s prompt!

❤

Those of you who have followed me for a while, know that I have been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, or what used to be called multiple personality disorder.

This is a serious mental illness, which stems from severe and prolonged early childhood trauma.

Yes, I was abused as a child, my abuse took place in a boarding school for blind children.

I was severely abused, emotionally, physically, sexually and ritually.

It caused my mind to fragment into alters, creating my dissociative identity disorder.

This illness can be tough to live with. But I also see it as a gift. My alters helped me survive. Without them I don’t think I would’ve made it.

I’m thankful to them for all the help they gave me to allow me to not only survive, but thrive, too.

Below I will share a poem I wrote about having did.

Thanks for reading this post. It is appreciated if you did read it.

Ok, here is my poem…

In the tapestry of self, threads unravel,

stitched and sewn in fragmented whispers,

echoes of laughter, shadows of sorrow,

each patch a pulse, a heartbeat in the chaos.

Some days I rise, a sunrise painting the walls,

a vibrant brushstroke of hope,

new eyes to see the world,

the warmth of sunlight caught in shifting smiles,

while others linger in dusk,

soft murmurs of silence, drifting through twilight.

I am many, a gallery of faces,

each portrait a story,

guardians of dreams and fears,

some wrapped in Armor, bold and bright,

others small as secrets, hiding in the folds of time.

We dance through corridors of memory,

a waltz of “Who am I today?”

an echoing question in the chambers of the mind.

There are days when the world feels like sand,

slipping through fingers,

others when it blooms,

sudden bursts of colour, life blooming despite winter,

each identity a flower, roots entangled,

each petal a longing to be whole.

I navigate through sunlit streets,

and shadowed alleys of thought,

each step a delicate negotiation,

between fragments of courage and whispers of doubt.

The mirror reflects all and none,

a kaleidoscope of existence,

where time is not linear,

but a spiral, looping back, forward,

twisting threads into patterns of resilience.

Some call it disorder; I know it as a mosaic,

intricate and imperfect,

beauty in brokenness,

where the pieces tell a story,

not of absence, but of presence—

the myriad ways to survive, to feel, to thrive,

to love in fractured tones that sometimes sing,

sometimes sigh.

In the quiet of the night,

I weave the strands together,

an embrace of selves, a collective heartbeat,

an understanding beyond words,

that in this vast tapestry,

I am not lost, but endlessly found.

In the symphony of voices,

I learn to listen,

to the sweet, chaotic melody of being,

inviting each note to take its rightful place,

in the song of my,

our,

life.

https://lindaghill.com/2025/01/16/daily-prompt-jusjojan-the-12th-2025-2/