u/CognitiveSteve

After losing my exBP and my family, I have lost more friends. Someone I considered a great friend of mine looked away from me as I waved at them today.

I keep seeing my exBP everywhere. The other day, I was walking the campus, when I saw the friend I mentioned and exBP hanging out with each other. They hadn't really talked before. They hardly knew each other. And yet, there were my best friends in the world, becoming each other's. And I was a stranger to them.

I ran into BP at the store. Rounded the corner, coming face to face with them. They weren't interested in speaking to me. We greeted each other, and moved on. Their friend eyed me and grunted.

When I told one of my friends about my cheating, they admitted their cheating past, as well. They knew how sad I was. They knew how hard it was on me. And yet one night, they tried to make a move on me. This person is in a long term relationship. And I had to stop them immediately. I reminded them of their commitment, and told them exactly what cheating does to people.

We had a young teen in our community kill themself recently after their partner cheated on them. My partner was nearly to that point because of me. And here my friend was, trying to seek validation from me despite knowing what my ex partner and I are actively going through. I don't want to be cynical, but I suspect that it's precisely because of my cheating past that they would try to take advantage of me. And the only thing that stopped it was not their choice, but my own.

And I just had someone today confess their cheating behavior to me to "get it off my chest".

I just feel like crying all the time. I think of what I did to them constantly. I tear myself apart analyzing the reasons why. And I keep slipping over and over again.

And fuck. I ran into BP on the road about a month ago. We began hanging out again for about a week. They came over at night. They gave me a hug, held my hand, leaned into me and fell asleep in my arms. I told them I chose to do that with them.

And a couple of days later, they told me we shouldn't see each other again. I know I am not entitled to anything. But I want to reconcile our relationship desperately. And it just hurt so much. I asked them to talk about it. They came over and told me that they felt disrespected that I'd even ask. They said they didn't want to see me or talk to me, and there's nothing more to discuss. I don't know why they agreed to talk to me and then tell me they'd rather not when they come over.

I know I betrayed them. I can't expect anything. It's only been three months since DDay. But I felt, and still feel, completely confused. It was upsetting that we'd interact in that way and then tell me we can't speak about it.

I want to have a clear perspective about it. But I just felt hopeful. And I don't know what our relationship is at all anymore.

And I am having to teach my friends how to keep their hands to themselves after doing so myself destroyed everything I cared about. I managed to scare it out of them. But I don't really feel like I can trust anyone else, either. I have become paranoid. I have stopped eating and sleeping properly. I take walks compulsively. Up to 17 miles a day.

I keep repeating the memory of the affair. Over and over again. I wake up from dreams about it and have to go on a walk to keep from hurting myself. I had a dream that my exBP sang to me and I woke up singing back. I just cried for a long time.

And I keep thinking of something they said to me, "I thought I had you. But I am alone."

I jist want to keep walking forever. I just want to walk. I just want to walk right into their arms and hold them for a long time.

I don't understand what that week period meant. I really hope that I didn't hurt them, dammit. I was trying to be very deliberate about my actions around them.

My mom said "Im proud of you" today. And it all just feels so heavy. It feels too heavy to hold.

I feel so small. I'm tired. I want to cut the rot out of me. I want to walk until it bleeds out of me. I feel like everyone on the road will point at the cheater as it starves itself to death trying to become something it can never be. I do not feel like I am capable of loving anyone else but them.

I know how I did this. But I dont feel like I'll ever understand why. And I'm just so sad today. I hate how much I hurt them. I'm sorry.

I'm trying to understand myself and the way my mind functions. But after I've gotten diagnosed, my symptoms have been less intense. Before diagnosis, such as earlier this year, I had very extreme experiences of switching, of being multiple people. And I still feel like different people at different times. But more seamlessly.

It seems I go between the qualitative feeling of being about four different people when I'm on my own. But they all feel so mixed and similar to each other, that it just feels like self perceptions tied to varying emotional states rather than dissociative identity.

They will manifest in ways that are obvious to me. I will speak in certain tones of voice, and I will then know that a "switch" has occured. But I'm starting to feel like this is a feeling normal people have. I also notice that when I have a switch where I speak in a different voice, it is difficult to replicate the voice of any of my other parts. But it feels like if I just tried hard enough, it would trigger another switch or self perception change, and then that voice would be primary.

Mimicry is common with me. And these changes are extremely socially sensitive. I'll feel like different people depending on the clothes I'm wearing. Or I will act or feel completely differently when I am talking to someone.

But there are a few consistent facts: DP/DR is constant, partial amnesia seems to occur during distress, and I feel like different people at different times. One of the most significant demonstrations of this is the significant states of age regression I enter. And I age regress a lot. I have been diagnosed with CPTSD and OSDD-1.

I don't know if I'm invalidating my own experience. Because I know that I've been through a lot of relationship trauma. Would it be accurate to say that OSDD is the result of complex trauma I've sustained during relationships, and that is why it is socially sensitive? And maybe I am not experiencing these switches as often because my relationships are more stable, and am no longer in a romantic relationship.

My therapist says I meet all the criteria but says he can't really offer me what that means outside of my own experience. I just don't have direction. I have ideas. And I have general education. But nothing seems to be clear. And the parts I experience sometimes feel developed or fragmented. Sometimes it's just the way I perceive an emotion. But I still feel like my identity or consciousness has changed. It's hard.

I have been trying to process the time period in which my affair occurred. There are things that I have found particularly difficult to process.

First of all, how I was so desperate in trying to hold onto the relationship, but still stepped outside of it. I know that I was severely mentally unstable. There are many gaps in my memory from that time. I had just gotten out of inpatient care and a long term relationship when I started falling in love for my exBP. I was making recovery in my condition that I hadn't experienced before.

I remember wanting to be very cautious, and I was. I was doing very well to manage my mental health and circumstances. But after we had established exclusivity in our relationship, I began to relapse in my condition. I remember telling them about my fear of hurting them. I think I was terrified of them seeing that I was some kind of monster. I felt inadequate, scared of myself, and worsening in my condition to the point that every time i tried to communicate, I would shut down. I remember being catatonic, crying, unable to function.

I was triggered constantly around them. And I felt so afraid of losing my connection that existing outside of that space felt dangerous. When I was alone, I would hallucinate, dissociate, and harm myself.

I've been reading my journals. I wrote extensively about how to stablize, walking myself through my feelings, trying to process, and trying to make myself safer. But I was just worsening over time.

And then, I went over to my exs house. My partner was okay with this, and I trusted myself. I didn't want to have anything to do with this person romantically. But I knew I didn't want to go there. Looking back, I realize I felt obligated to because I was still traumatized by this person. Their family became demeaning, and we went to their room after an intense moment.

I was so upset with myself, my life, and my mental health. I had completely fallen apart, and was out of control. Then, I initiated contact with them, and used sex as a form of self destruction.

But they were so important to me. They were. And I am having a very hard time knowing the damage I've done to a person I thought was so special. I wish I could tell them how much I thought of them. They weren't my second choice.

I feel so sick of myself. But I am afraid that it's over for good. I may never get to tell them this. Even if I did, it may not change anything about the way they feel. I made them feel like they meant nothing to me. And I don't know how to hold that. I am so sorry. I loved them more than the way I treated them.

I don't really know how to let go. Because they haven't told me that there is anything final. We're just not in contact with each other. And it fucking sucks.

Another thing that feels so defeating is the timing. I did this to them 8 days after asking them to be my valentine. And I meant it. I remember every word to this day:

"When I see you, I see my heart. I want to make you mine, I love you to the moon and back. [ExBP], will you be my Valentine?"

I remember the state i was in writing this. I felt so frantic. I was hallucinating and crying. I felt so inadequate and confused. I forgot to take my medication, and it was so upsetting. Because I could hardly verbalize the way I felt about them when I wrote it. I felt like, in my condition, I would never be enough. But I pushed through the fog to give them everything I had left. My valentine.

And I don't fucking get it. I suppose things are different when you're in that state of mind. But I wanted so desperately to be something more.

Why wasn't I something more for them?

And they will always wonder,

"Why wasn't I enough?"

I think that is to say that I am overwhelmed with facts that is hard for me to come to terms with.

The magnitude of the pain I caused my partner keeps getting deeper. Each new day is a new day they spend in pain because of me. It is hard to accept that this is pain I never intended for them, but that they will have to bear every day for the rest of their life. I did not want this, and yet it is here. Our whole life together has became what I did to them.

I keep thinking of everything we were. I ruminate on everything I love about them, every tiny detail, every microscopic measurement of their person. I love them. And every detail of them is one that I betrayed. I betrayed their body, their soul, their mind, their past and future. I betrayed us. I made them feel completely unimportant. I made them feel like they aren't special when they are the most special person in the universe to me.

But if this is how I treat the people I love the most, what more am I capable of? How did I not realize the pain that I was causing another person? How can they, or I, ever heal from this?

The betrayal is deeper than ever. Then there is the loss. I know everything about them. And I may never know them again. The uncertainty of this is another grievance. I may never know if I can ever know. I may never know how their day went. What made them smile today. Or what their smile looks like in the sunlight. I may never see them again. Or, they may never see me again.

I lost the people I considered my family. I betrayed them, too. Their grandpa. One of my best friends. I may never see their family again. They do not love me anymore, and I love them like I've never loved anyone.

I do not know whether there could have been something more. Whether we will ever get to speak again. I may never be able to apologize, or to take accountability, or tell them how I feel. It may never happen. I may never get to tell them how special they are. They were so special.

I grieve that they harmed themselves. They abandoned themselves because of what I did to them. I made them feel like their only choice was to hurt themselves, breaking every promise they made to themselves for the last three and a half years. All because of me. Every scar I ever kissed is one I betrayed. I do not know how to deal with this, especially. The only way I feel I've been able to process it is when I hurt myself. I want to look like they did when I hurt them. And I don't want to appropriate their pain. Because it's theirs, not mine. But I want to hurt myself very badly. I hate living in this body. And I feel like the only way to cure the rot is to cut it out of me. I feel like I deserve it after what I made them do. They couldn't escape me without hurting themselves.

I've never felt this deeply before. It hurts, but I dont want to feel painless. I want to hurt with them. But I may never hurt with them. I especially will never understand their pain. No matter how much I hear about it, no matter how much literature I read, no matter how many stories I hear, no matter how many times I hear it from them. I will never feel what they feel. And I fucking hate that. I hate that so much that I can't stand it. I hate not being able to feel the consequences of my actions because they absorbed them instead of me. I hate it so much. I wish and pray that their pain stops. I wish and pray that I could have it for them. I hate what I've done. That pain was supposed to be for me. I was trying to hurt myself, not them. I hate what I've done so much I can't stand it.

And I grieve that I may never feel okay again. My life is different now. When I smile or laugh, I stop, because I remember what I did. I wake up in the morning with it being the first thing on my mind. My dreams, my nights, my days. I think about it one hundred percent of the time. I think of them, the betrayal, the loss, and the destruction. All the time. Constantly, over and over and over again.

I do not want to eat or sleep or take care of myself. I hate loving myself. I hate nourishing my body and taking care of it. My ex partner doesn't hate me, they're just stuck wishing they wouldn't love me anymore. I wish I could grant them what they want. I wish I could set them free. And I hate eating like I'm free to do so. Like I'm entitled to feel okay again. I never want to be okay again. I want everyone to take their hurt out on me until their pain becomes indifferent, and then I can finish the job by ending my life before ruining someone else's. I wish i would have killed myself instead of what I've done.

But this is the world I live in. And I just have to come to terms with it. I have to feed myself, I have to shower, go to school, and go to sleep. I just feel like crying all the time.

Sometimes, and most infuriating of all, I feel denial again. Like it never happened. That is when I hate myself the most. It feels like my brain is trying to take my grief away from me. I hate it. I have to be the one who did this. I did this. I'm in control.

And I'm so tired. The internal battle is constant. And I wish i could see them again. I wish we could just talk. But maybe we won't. And I'll be okay with that.

I'm having a hard time in school, or trying to convince myself not to self destruct. I want to drop everything and run away. And I'm overwhelmed by everything.

I'm trying to figure out the next best thing for me and just take care of myself. But it's so overwhelming.

Anger. Anger enough to crawl up to heaven on my broken hands and knees and punch the lights out of the angels in outcry of what they allowed to happen. Anger enough to chase down the demons and haunt them into repentance. Anger enough to shake the world at its core and make it split wide open. Anger enough to throw it all away.

Hatred, enough to let myself spiral downward. Hatred enough to fall over and collapse. To lose all sense of morality. To cut myself until it doesn't hurt anymore. Hatred enough to keep going until there's nothing left to recognize. To devalue myself as a beast until I am truly that, and nothing more.

Despair, enough to dim your options to a new darkness. Despair to the point of complete dissociation. To the point of no return. You have snapped out of your pain through hating yourself so deeply, that despair is no longer a feeling but a method. A license to kill to escape your brokenness.

And when you're finished killing yourself, you look up to see the bodies all around you. It was never you who died. Whether you wanted this or not, you are a manslaughterer.

And when everything is said and done. When your partner looks you in your eyes for the last time, full of hatred, full of anger, and despair, the feelings that you avoided all along occur to you. Sadness. Fear. Shame. Grief. That feeling, "what have i done?" knowing you never meant to hurt someone else. But you did. You destroyed them.

Every cut you wore on your body is now on theirs. Every trauma, every abuse, every horror story is now theirs to bear. And you realize truly that killing yourself doesn't get rid of the pain. It only passes it on to someone else. And yet you are still living. And they are too. In the most broken, tragic way. And it's all because of you.

Shame. Shame enough to fall from the sky and into your grave. Shame that consumes every version of yourself that tries to stand back up. Shame that breaks mirrors and rots your flesh from the inside out. A monster always hiding what it has done just behind its deceptive mask. Shame that remembers how ambitious you were. How you wanted to be something more than the ones who abused you. How you shook and shivered with fear of hurting them. And the shame of knowing that you will never be something more.

Shame that whispers, saying, "Everything you are is what has been done to you. You validated that, didn't you? You made your statement. How could you ever be something more? How can you ever rid yourself of the filth that is you?"

Grief. Grief enough to last an eternity. Enough to remember the person you love more than anyone. To recite their soul by heart, to rejoice in their existence. To speak to everyone around in a way that illumines them. Grief that truly knows the one you lost. Grief that may never know them again. That may never be able to reconcile what you have done. Grief that may never be able to explain itself to the one its grieving. Grief that holds on as strong and as fiercely to your love as you once had to your hatred. Grief enough to put the hatred down. Grief enough to heal you. To see yourself for the first time, even if it is the last time you'll ever see them. To love yourself like you always deserved. Grief enough to set you free.

I love you, my dearest, dearest friend. I am so sorry, my love.

A lot of this stuff is very raw and may lack consistency. As a caveat, this is just how I am feeling currently. A lot of what is written is expressed from a very psychotic and childish part of me. Which I am responsible for and am managing.

I was waking up through the night. I had many dreams of my exBP. In one, they were wearing short sleeves in the park. They felt safe again, they told me, and they felt proud of themselves. I was so happy for them. I cried and told them how beautiful they were. I told them I loved them.

I woke up from this and cried. I sleep on the couch because doing so in the bed is very difficult. However, this is the couch that AP left me when they moved out. I am getting rid of it and getting a new one soon.

I called 988, and after calming down, went back to sleep. This time I dreamt about AP. I woke up to find them on the couch with me, and they began assaulting me. I have had many dreams like this before. The theme is similar. Feeling incapable of making it stop but feeling frozen against the advance.

When I woke up I took a walk. I sat at the pond exBP and I used to visit and remembered all the things we said to each other.

I cried all day. Had to leave class, cried at work, cried on the way back home. And when I got there I sat on the floor and stared at the couch.

I keep thinking about what exBP said. "There is no reason why you did this. You just did it. No reason, no rationale. And nothing could stop you."

It makes me think there's nothing I can do to stop it. I just did it. I let it happen to me like in my dreams. But during the affair, I was the one who initiated. I was the one that did this. In the times before, when AP and I were in a relationship, it was never me who initiated it. I always felt I didn't want it but didn't feel safe to make it stop. And then I became the one who did. And nothing could stop me. Not even what my exBP and I had.

I've been age regressing all day. Whenever AP and I would interact sexually, I always regressed to a childish state. I could feel safe there because in that state there was nothing else. I acted from that place when the affair happened. I wanted to feel safe again, and I had learned in my relationship with them that sex was how it was gained. A lot of sexual trauma is stored here in this part. It is the main reason why I felt, and still feel, helpless regarding the actions I took during the affair (I know that I am not.)

The child comes out every now and then. And it wants to crawl around and cry. But the one who comforted them is gone. It feels like every comfort is gone. When I am in that state, there is no safety. The world is gross and unusual. I feel strange when I look in the mirror. I see a monster. Other people see it too.

I told my advisor about what happened with my relationship the other day. I wish I didn't. I felt so overwhelmed, and when they noticed, they offered for me to speak to them. And I did. And it came out. And I felt the trust pull away immediately. I was alone in a room with someone who knew what I was.

I saw my advisor again today. They asked if I had an alright day. I said yes. I feel like an alien.

I've taken about 20,000 steps today. Tracing and retracting the path that we used to take on our walks. I don't really know how to hold this anymore. I know it's all my fault. I know I did this to myself. I know that I have traumatized someone. I know that all the walls that people put up are because of what I did.

I just feel alone. The child feels alone. And I can't love myself. But I will. I just really, really hate myself. I hate more than I can stand it. I hate loving myself. I hate taking one day at a time. I hate that I am still alive when others are taking their life because of actions like I have made. I hate what I did. I hate what I was. I just hate and I'm so tired. I'm so tired.

I don't really know how to hold this anymore. I get that I did this. I get it. I'm reminded constantly by others that I am not like the rest. I do not get comfort. I do not get safety. But I just want it. I hate that I want it but I want to feel okay again. I know I never felt okay. But this is worse. "Consequences of your actions." I get it. I do.

I want to make it stop but I feel frozen again. And I don't want to go to sleep. I want my mom. I want my family back. I want to see the person I love. I want my baby. My beautiful baby. I understand that all of it is gone. It just sucks.

I feel so unhappy. I feel loveless. And shame has become a prison. I feel like a disfigured, shriveling, amoral, monstrous little child. I hate the way I look in the mirror. I keep having dreams where the child comes to me. It is covered in mud, naked, bleeding from physical trauma and self injury, body parts misshapen and contorted into something inhuman. I see it looking at me, sad, confused, afraid. And that is what I see when I look into the mirror. The thing. It.

I just want them to feel safe again. I want them to feel happy again. I want them to love again. I want them to smile again. I never wanted to hurt them. I hurt them.

Tw self harm and SI

I woke this morning after dreaming of them, as I do every night. I went to sleep thinking of them. I woke up with them still on my mind. But they were not there. I was alone.

The grief and sorrow was followed by desperation, devastation, to self hatred and shame. I arrived at the same thoughts that I do every morning. And when I become alert, they are the first thing that I fixate on. To harm myself again.

The last time I did was on August 27th. For the first time in my life, I made the decision to stop. Before this, it came and went with my emotional state. Now, I am making a deliberate choice rather than being pulled by my emotions.

Quitting self harm feels like losing a part of identity, if anyone understands what I mean. It's always been there.

I rose, put my long sleeve on over my open wounds, and went to school. I texted my exBP on the way there. We have been seeing each other recently. We made plans with each other everyday. I told them that perhaps I would see them on my walk to the school.

Once there, I had to prepare my organization for Suicide Prevention month.

I feel deep grief, guilt, and shame around this.

I am a person who has dealt with suicidal ideation for a long time. I went to inpatient care in October of last year. After I got out, I collapsed yet again and entered the downward spiral of psychosis as my condition became very extreme over time.

I look back at journals from that time. Some of the pages are smeared with my blood. Graphic depictions of suicidal ideation, extreme self hatred, grotesque descriptions of body dysmorphia, delusions, dissociation, identity fragmentation all line the pages. I was very disturbed. My last entry in that particular journal was just days before the affair.

And after disclosure, my exBP was driven to harm themselves because the pain was too much. I destroyed them. I made them harm themselves. I made them completely alone. I made them abandon their values. I did this to them.

The person who is supposedly a mouthpiece of mental health awareness on campus is a psychotic, deranged cheater and liar. What would they say when I roll up my sleeves? How many people am I going to let down?

I spoke with my Vice President about possible activities we could do. We looked online for resources we could order. Pins and badges came up. One of them read, "You are not alone."

I offered that to the suicidal individual, this may be invalidating to them. Because in many cases, they are alone.

Then I thought about them. The way their eyes looked at me. I thought of all the people who have suffered such losses like I have made them suffer. They are alone.

And although I find it hard to be valid, I am alone. I have wounds on my body that no one knows about. But if anyone saw, they would know not to trust me again. How can they trust me to be anything more, when I was not for the person who mattered the most to me?

These feelings, of course, did not stop the discourse. There are people besides myself who exist who need to be seen for what they're going through. For what they are. We continued with our meeting and came to a consensus of the activities we're going to host on campus.

I deeply value and cherish the experiences of others. I value differences, recognizing people, and making them feel seen. To make someone feel important. I guess demons feel external until you realize that they are a part of you. How could I ever tell someone theyre important again when I made my person feel like they are not?

And as the meeting was coming to a close, I received a text:

"I've been reflecting and I know seeing each other around is bound to happen, but I think it's best if we dont make plans to see each other. I wish you the best"

I suppose this was bound to happen. After wrapping up I walked back home and just sobbed. I saw them on my walk and just stared. They didn't see me. It's for the best.

I am turning the rock they gave me around in my hands. I don't know who it belongs to anymore. I made a journal specifically dedicated to them, which I've been reading through. I loved them so deeply. There were songs, poems, love letters, and whole volumes about who they were and what I loved about them. Not just the way they made me feel. Not just what they did for me. But them. I loved them. I wrote about what I wanted for our relationship, who I wanted to be for them, steps to take, conversations to have. I was so serious about them.

And then there was another journal. I wrote everyday trying to ground myself. Medication tracking, therapy notes, self reflection, meditations, venting. I wanted so badly to be something more. Why wasn't i something more?

The missing piece is that third journal. The last entry reads, "I am confusion". I wanted to be something more, and I wanted to be safe. And I did love them for who they were. But I was not safe to myself. I was not stable enough to love them like they needed. I was self destructive, impulsive, lacked boundaries, and completely detached from reality.

I still remember the last thing I wrote for them before my affair. 8 days before, I asked them to be my valentine. I remember every word of that poem. I wrote it in the code we developed together. I told them I loved them to the moon and back. What their mother used to tell them. How could I? How could I?

I don't know how to live anymore. All I want to do is talk to them and tell them these things. But I know they don't want to hear about it. I have already destroyed us. Even if I wanted to be something more, I am not.

I feel like I'm losing the deepest parts of myself right alongside them. Who I was before, wanted to be, and who I was to them are all leaving me alone in the house I may never see them in again. I am not the president of a club. I am not a mental health advocate or a journalist. I am not a part of their family. I am not their partner. I am not even their friend. I am nothing more than what I did.

I am alone. And I cannot even advocate for myself. I have never felt closer to death. And I mean real death. But I'm trying to be something more.

I wish you the best, my dearest friend.

We did our belongings exchange. It went very neutrally at first. Then they began to make small talk, which I mirrored, into a conversation. They are keeping themselves pretty busy this semester.

Before they left, they hung around for a long time procrastinating their departure. I could tell it was painful. It seemed there was something they wanted to tell me. They kept saying, "welp, thats it" and swaying back and forth, eyeing me occasionally. We asked if they needed anything else, and we said our goodbyes.

It took a lot to remain neutral. I couldnt help but feel like they were waiting for me to say something. But I didnt want to take the chance to assume how they were feeling, especially seeing me, a very triggering person. I don't know how they're feeling, or have been feeling. But last we spoke, it was the end of our romantic relationship.

I only want to act from a place that is supportive to them and their healing. And I didn't want to show them that I would take any opportunity to tell them what I thought. But I had this feeling like they needed to hear something from me.

On the other hand, however, is that I tell them, perhaps, that I love and care about them, and it completely invalidates them.

It was really hard not to say anything. They sat in their car for a long while. At that point, I thought it would be best to go check on them. I was really worried about intruding on them, but it seemed they were really struggling, and I wanted to let them know that they are cared for by checking in gently.

I asked if they were okay, and if they needed anything. They told me no, but apologized for staying long. I told them they had nothing to apologize for. After an awkward pause, I told them I was gonna give them space to go.

I didn't say that I loved them. My mom tells me I should have. But that's what I think. What I feel. I have no idea what they think and feel. And the betrayed partner is in a whirlwind of emotions. Of course theyre going to want comfort from a person that used to be safe. Of course they want closeness. But it hurts way too much to be safe for them. I can mean well, and try to say something I think would be best for their healing.

But how would saying, I love you, land when they're probably in a fucking nightmare? I have no idea what they're going through. Saying those words may be very difficult to process right now.

I want to let them know that they matter, and that they are an important human being. That their life has worth, and that I love them. But I don't know if they need or want to hear those things. I was torn between this and feeling like I didnt want them to think they didn't matter because I remained neutral. I want to show them that they do matter. Does my willingness to accept the belongings exchange without hesitation show that their belongings are easy to give up? Did cleaning up the sentimental items from the common space show I was trying to move on, instead of trying to make space for them? Did my caution show distance rather than care?

These are all questions I can sit with without having the answer to. I just want them to be safe. But I dont want my safeguarding to come accross as indifference. I want to show them that I can sit through the difficulty if it means that they can heal through the recognition. But i guess it's the best to go with what's explicitly stated for the sake of their autonomy and emotional security in the long run.

They told me they want to keep minimal contact. I don't know anything else. I grieve that they have to go through something like this.

I really want to see them again. Sometime I think I will ask them if doing so would be an option for them. But only after they initiate contact with me again, I think. I don't want to push for anything. I just want to talk, if they were ever open, about whatever it was safe to.

This is really hard. But I want to sit through the uncertainty if it means they get to heal in peace without having to provide any closure.

I love them.

They texted me today after a week and 5 days after breaking up. They wanted to meet Friday to exchange our things. I am thinking about asking them to talk, or to be able to send them a letter.

I really want to reconcile a relationship with them and their family. I love them a lot and am willing to get through the hardship and pain that it would take to do so, or at least try. We hadn't had any prior discussion about it. It's been too painful and triggering for the both of us to have any productive dialog. I want to extend an offer to speak about if there would be a chance at reconciling our past relationship with a future one.

We don't have to be lovers again, and instead can be friends. I just really want them in my life. I want to reconcile with their family, as well. It will be intensely difficult to do so, they will hate me, they will shame me and turn away. I don't want to look away or hide or run as long as it is something they would want to do.

I love them dearly. Maybe on Friday I can ask if we can meet the following Friday for a discussion if they would be okay with this. Maybe I can ask to send them a letter that they can read and respond to on their own time. I also would like to ask about no contact and how our relationship may function in general. But I really want to have one with them.

I don't know. I know that it's more than just "shooting my shot". Its the hardest thing they've ever had to do. They haven't made it clear to me what they want or need as of this time. Our relationship lacks direction or closure. Just that they can no longer continue a romantic relationship, and that we would talk in time. But I wonder if what they mean is "Im sure there'll be times where we happen to talk" or if its more deliberate. Nothing is certain. And I am okay sitting with the uncertainty for a while. I just want to be able to talk to them. I never had been able to say any of the things I've shared here. Speaking to me in general was triggering enough. And emotional discussions were just invalidating.

Pardon me if I'm being at all insensitive. I just want to tell them that I love them and I want to be in a relationship with them and reconcile if that were something they'd be willing to try. Or what the future may hold, or what the present does. Whether I am allowed to speak with them, or how, or if theres anything they do or dont need.

Thank you guys so much. You have been so supportive.

I did this because I was sick, not because you are not special. Because you are so special. I was ill to the point where betrayal seemed fit to manage my brokenness. I didn't have a clear concept of what I was doing until it was done. And there it was. I was no longer a safe person. I am not a safe person.

And I hurt you very deeply. I lied about what had occured, but the pain was already manifest. I was horrified with what I had done. And it hibernated for months before it spewed out of me like a little kid kicking and screaming. I threw a fit trying to untangle myself from the mess I made. I made myself sick, stopped eating, harmed myself. You were there for me, weren't you? Watching me, and becoming more and more devastated by the creature I am. That is not safety.

And I look back on the things that we were and I see a world of unending beauty. I am reading the note you made me just a month before all this blew up. "To the one I hold most dear."

You had picked up a rock off the side of the sidewalk, on our usual route through the park. Routine was so important to you, and as i was at work, you still held me. In your hands was a reminder of me. You thought about why on your way back home before parting me with a hand written letter detailing your thoughtfulness. I read it over and over again when you first wrote it. "I see you in everything."

I am turning that stone in my hands now, as it is a reminder of you. What you thought of me. What i should have been for you. I am as delighted now as I was then to have known such a thoughtful and endearing presence in my life. But I, again, woke up this morning to see that you were not here. The stone is much heavier than I remember it being.

I saw you the other day. I was wearing your ring, still. The one you made for me. It was so nice to see your smile again. And it hurts knowing that such a smile is not for me. It will not be. You were with another person, and you seemed happy. Im so glad that you have someone you can feel safe around. But there they were, walking the usual route with another, just like we used to. It was a routine I used to be a part of. It took everything in me not to say hello. I just have to remind myself that I am not safe to see anymore.

I wonder if when they approach the spot where they found the item I now cradle, will they remember me? What will they see in its place? I hope what I did to them isn't too much to carry with them when they see me in everything. I know that they will not hold me like the last time. Stones are now too heavy to pick up. But maybe it would hurt less to let me go.

We are both coming to terms with the way the world spins. The last time we took a walk is when you broke up with me. We looped around that same old park. You found a walnut. Usually you would hand them over to me. We both have whole stockpiles of nuts that we found that remind us of each other. Instead, you laughed and threw it far away.

Hurts, don't it? Imagine how they feel. Because that is exactly what I did to them. They gave me everything. Everything they trusted I would hold with them. And I threw it far away. I told them that I could hold the stars in heaven when I could not even hold them.

They spoke to me very cordially the last time we did, and that was the moment it was over. I do not get to hold them anymore. Not one part. Not about how their day was. Not about what's on their mind. And never again about how they feel. Their feelings are not safe around me. It hurts being a stranger to the one I love more than anything in the world. But I am too heavy to hold, I have to let go too. They need to be safe. I must learn to love this distance, because it is healing for them.

I wish I said I loved them before they left. I just thought it may have been more respectful to let them say it first. But they never did. There may never be a chance again.

143, 4.

"Funny how it dissappears the second you give in, when the world comes to terms with the way that it spins. Funny how you rearrange, how your mind begins to change. Hold yourself a little tighter in the arms of your old age."

My parents tell me it'll be "okay." My mom says this having been cheated on by my biological father, abandoning us when I was very young. I should have known the effects of betrayal trauma well enough to never produce them. Now I have become just like my dad. And my mom tells me that it's just okay. And maybe I can curl up under the blankets and pray that everythings okay just like mom says.

But it's not, and never will be, okay. I allowed myself to be vulnerable with another person whom I had shared a romantic past with without regard to the relationship I was then in, and acted on my feelings towards them. I was emotionally dysregulated and was never able to process my grief for this person. And when we became vulnerable, the part of myself that was still attached to this person became activated. And I acted on it. The circumstance I was in was one that I got myself into, and then when I found that the gun was in my hands, I made the choice to fire.

I then took off the necklace my partner specifically gifted me in order to avoid their presence whilst betraying them, telling myself that it was for their protection. I was out of control, and the rest of myself that was left watched in horror as I continued to murder my partner. I lost that necklace, and have never been able to recover it since.

I didn't tell my partner because I didn't even think of the incident as cheating, and that because it was a terrible mistake that I then regretted, that as long as I never did it again, it could somehow be okay. I had a view of the situation that made me distinguish what I had done with AP from my relationship with exBP. That they were categorically distinct, and therefore wasn't in violation of exclusivity. To me, apparently, exclusivity meant that I wouldn't be pursuing anyone else like I was pursuing them. And I wasn't, I thought. I never wanted what happened. I never planned for this. I wanted them. Not my ex. But is that how they would feel, you stupid piece of shit?

Mental fucking gymnastics. Foolishness. Cowardice. Rationalization. Deception. Victimhood. All to protect the unspeakable crime I had committed. And I came back home like nothing ever happened. I truly believed the account I had given myself. That this could coexist in the same space as my love for them. I knew I never wanted to do this again, but my god, I had already done so. Just because it was manslaughter doesn't mean someone isn't fucking dead. And then I buried the evidence. This is not something a sane person does.

I hadn't even thought about it since that time period. Not up until July. And when the memory resurfaced, that's when the panic hit. The layers were unraveling, the memory spinning around in my head with no escape. I fucking did this, and now my hibernation is over. This is fucking real.

More than the broken fucking person it takes to do something like this is the person I broke in the process. I cheated in a way that nothing could possibly slow me down. Nothing could stop me. Not even what we had. I completely shattered and threw down what we were because I had become unrecognizable to myself.

And now they are hurt more than they ever have been. It is entirely likely that this person will be traumatized for the rest of their lives because of what I've done. Not only did I do something horrible, I did it to them, I did it to their family, and I did it to my own. I introduced a ripple effect of unimaginable pain because of what I decided to do on a whim.

I hurt them more than they've ever been hurt. They gave me their whole self, with complete vulnerability, complete trust in what we had. They offered their whole heart to me and I stomped on it. This likely killed something fundamental inside of them. Broke something they can never get back. They kissed someone they never could consent to. All the things we've done together, everyday we've spent, has been spent in the shadow of a lie.

They lived in a world where I would never be capable of doing such a thing to another human being, let alone them. And now, everything they wrote for me, all the excitement they ever felt for me, all the chasing through the darkness and building something they've never had before. It's all gone. I was their first fucking love, goddamn me. God damn me.

And all they ever asked me for was something I couldn't give them. I eventually committed to an official partnership with this person over time, and it was good. What we have built since then has been the beautiful time in my life. But that was after I already fucking cheated.

This person will never experience love in the same way because of me. The innocence is gone. I wish I never went over there to my ex's house. I didn't think I'd ever fucking do it. I should have known. And now I do, I guess. And I get to spend my time climbing up my "redemption arc" while this person heals from something they never asked for until they fucking die.

Good for who? Good for me? Congratulations for growing into a better person? What about them? They'll never be the same again in ways they never chose. And I'll never be the same again because I still have a choice. It isn't fair. They never asked for this. All they asked for was love and I fucked their life up.

I didn't get much sleep last night. I'm gonna do what I need to do to clean myself up and go to work. Act like nothing happened just like I did then. Look my boss in the eye and tell them I'm loyal. I'll be calling my mom later, and I'll be told how it's all gonna be okay.

And looking back now, the incident seems completely incomprehensible to the world I knew. The person I thought I was. I feel so disassociated from it. But I know I did it. That's just insane.

They said they needed to talk. They came over, and informed me that we couldn't continue our romantic relationship. They said they needed time from me, and we have initiated NC.

We will be exchanging clothes at some point. We will be able to talk in time. But for now, we no longer know each other.

They have informed their family and have a support system. I am proud of them for this. It couldn't have been easy to admit what I did to others in their life.

I have hurt them so very deeply. I cannot fathom the feeling of shock in their familial circle. I was once a part of this family. And I loved them so dearly. But it is not for me any longer. For when I would meet their mothers eyes, all that would be seen is how I hurt their child. I must take my leave. This grief I cannot fathom, but neither can my crime be accepted.

I wished them well, and told them that they deserve to feel safe. I said I was glad theyre doing what's best for themselves, because that's what they need.

I wanted to say, "I love you"

But it wouldnt be the right time for that.

They've been talking extensively to another person during this time. Just like we used to. They had history together. And i can see the spark grow where ours once was. I hope this person is safer than I am. They deserve the world. A safe one.

But I have unfortunately obscured myself beyond all familiarity to this person. I am a stranger now. Other.

I'm glad they could find the strength to take their leave. The strongest person I know.

I love you.

I post something about this and take it down because of how horrified I am by the admission. But this is where I'm at right now. I'm kind of just rambling here. I am out of my mind. I am delirious and my surroundings don't make sense anymore.

Tw self harm and suicidal ideation.

I'm trying really hard and it's only getting worse. My partner and I both have relapsed into self harm. They're not doing very well. I was their only safe space. But I no longer exist.

"I hate that you know how I'm doing. Because it's you."

I cleaned their wounds with an alcohol rag. Their blood was all over my hands. This is the end, isn't it?

"I regret telling you because I can deal with it on my own. I don't want to bring the hurt to the person who hurt me. I can't show you that you get to do this to me and I still be vulnerable with you. It's just hard to get past feeling like you're still my safe space. And you're not."

I am having suicidal ideation. I am bed ridden today, just deteriorating. I may have to go inpatient. The feeling of wanting to hurt myself is constant and extreme. The dissociation is twisting into nightmarish levels. Sometimes I am convinced that none of this is real at all. An utter lack of consciousness. I am not eating properly. I am not going to work. I am not taking care of my hygiene. I have stopped speaking. My voice is too triggering to hear right now.

The despair finds new lows in this downward spiral of mine. I made them hurt themselves. It repeats over and over again. And I'm afraid that I just can't stop doing it. I don't want to do anything. I don't even want the pain to stop. I just don't want anything at all.

All my feelings are stamped with the betrayal. "But you still cheated." But I still cheated. I still cheated. Cheated. Cheated. Cheated. All of my suffering is invalid.

And now I'm cheating life itself. It feels like I've cheated an honest way to suffer. I've cheated everything. And if I end my life, I'll just be cheating an honest death.

The nightmare just keeps going. And they're living it. Their life is destroyed. I love this person more than anything. And my love has torn holes right through their body. This is what my love looks like. This is what I am. Thousands of stab wounds on an innocent body. My love is human sacrifice. They're carving my love out of them.

I've been crying into the rag that has their blood on it. I cry myself to sleep and I see their body in my dreams. My chest hurts from how much I've cried. I woke up crying today. I can't stop thinking of how their body looks. That is what my body should look like. Not theirs.

They are the most beautiful person I've ever known. And that is not a lie. Not some exaggerated fairy tale fog. They are the most beautiful person I've ever known. And this is their blood. This is what I've done to them. I am a murderer.

They hate themselves for relapsing but I wish they didn't. Theyre just human, going through the worst thing they ever have. Please hate me instead. Please cut me instead. Please hurt me instead. Please kill me instead. Please be mean to me. Please.

I can't trust myself anymore. I am afraid of what I am capable of. A murder case came on the TV last night which was very triggering. Because all I could think of was how that could have been me. How it is me. I am afraid to leave my house because I feel like I'll end up killing someone.

I think im starting to enter a psychotic break. I am afraid of these thoughts and am a danger to myself. I may have to call 988 and get to a safe place today.

"You say you want me...now? What about before? You say you want me. That's just invalidating. Because you were supposed to want me then. But that is not how you show me that you want me. What we had is finished. It's done. You lied to me. You have hurt me alot. You have hurt me deeply."

The lie I told you was more than a broken promise or a bend of the rules. I gave you a life you depended on. You rested inside of me, and when I told you it was safe, you believed me. You followed me through this darkness. And I led you to your death. I gave you a space that became your prison. And how hard it is to escape. I have done the impossible, and made it impossible to leave.

"I gave you my whole self, so all of me is hurt. I thought I was more important than that."

Every part of you is worthy of love. You are one of the greatest creatures to have been created. You see people so wholly, so carefully, so considerately, and I did something not even you will understand. What I was and am capable of will forever be a dark spot on the name of empathy.

Your worth will never be defined by what I did to you. And love, you don't deserve anything less than love. You are so much more important than what I did to you. You don't have to forgive me. Just please love yourself.

"You know, I have a pretty good imagination. And since I have a pretty good memory, I remember everything you said. And because it was so important for you, you gave me a play by play of exactly what happened. Which now replays. Over. And over. And over. Not even sleep can save me from what you did to me."

"You took off my necklace. Nothing could slow you down. Not even what we had. Every time I look at you, every time you smile. Every time you laugh or cry, everytime your name is mentioned. Its all I see. All I see is what you did to me. And when I look you in the eyes, all I can think is, 'why?' as if one day ill figure it out. But there is no reason why. There is no rationale. You just did that. And nothing could stop you."

"Sometimes we just have to accept things in life that make no sense."

"I hate this so much, I hate what you gave me. I never consented to having to deal with this. I never consented to you. You violated me. I'm just so angry at you. We shouldn't have been together. Or maybe we should have. And then you did this anyway. How could you? You fucking cheated on me. I've never heard it more blatantly than what you did. And I'm just gonna say this. I gave you that necklace as a sign of my presence and security while you were away. And you took it off to do that. You took me off. How fucking could you?"

"No one is safe. I thought I had you. I thought you were safe. But I am alone. I love you. But you are not my safe space anymore. No one is."

"And I hate, most of all, that you know these things. Because it's you. I hate that you know how I hurt. Because it's you. I regret telling you these things. Im sorry I keep telling you. Its just hard to see you as anything other than my person. But I have to take time to realize you're not. I need space, because I'm not able to do what I need for myself when I'm around you. All I want is to be close to you, to hold you, to love and be loved by you. But that's not possible. Because it never was."

I gave you a routine, and I know how important your routine is to you. To make sense of it all. To have security, to know what to expect. My coming in your life was an unexpected thing, but you were excited that I existed with you. You welcomed me. I was serious about you. And you were serious about me. And I loved you. And you loved me. And we dreamed a dream together of a future, one day at a time, building our security together. My coming was unexpected, but you thought you knew me. You knew what to expect about me. And now, every brick layed on our foundation is cracked by this uncertainty. Who is this, then, that you knew? What have I become? What was I?

And in the end, I was not what you expected. And that betrayal may be the quietest, but the greatest and deepest of them all. Because I thought I knew who I was too. I thought I knew who I was giving you. I thought I was doing the right things. And I loved you. And you loved me. But I was sick. We shouldnt have been together. Or maybe we should have. But I did this to you anyways.

Every space we held together, our privacy, our quiet moments and chasing after each other. It's all spilled out through the side of myself we never expected. And I wasnt even aware of it when it happened. And it was buried underneath the unexpected. It was buried underneath the uncertainty of it all. All you asked me for was certainty. All you asked me for was me. And I couldn't give it to you.

"I should have known. And i let myself down. Our relationship hurt my feelings then, when you couldn't be ready for a committed partnership. Because I was ready. I knew myself and knew what I needed. A relationship was a privilege for me. I didn't need this. But you told me you could be exclusive and i believed you. But you couldn't even meet me there. I know you wanted to. But I needed you to be certain, and you weren't. I should have known. I should have known you weren't ready because it was already hurting my feelings. It would have been a really nice addition to my life, and it was. It should have been. It could have been. But I had a much different idea of what we were than what was actually going on. It makes sense now, funny enough. And I should have known. I was just so excited by you because I had never felt this way before. I loved you. But I let myself down. And you hurt me more than I've ever known."

I am sorry that I have let you down. I made you believe in something. I made a promise and I was supposed to keep it. Its not simply that I have altered things, or that I hurt your feelings. I ruined our life together. I gave you a vision of our future that has been smashed to pieces. I gave you a person who was a figment of our imagination. You trusted me, and I trusted me. And its not just that things are different. They are different forever. And things are over.

Your perception of what you thought was possible in love and life has been thrown away. I killed something fundamental inside of you. I reached in to your deepest recesses. I inhabited your skin. Our souls were one. Our love was real. And I devoured it. I stole it from you. I violated your spirit. What I did was as if I held a knife to your child self, and forced you to watch as I slit your throat. You gave me the most vulnerable part of yourself. And I gave you this in return. I took something that can never be given back.

If we had met in a different time, my love, maybe it would have been different. And if I could start again, i would find a way. I was not put together enough to properly consent myself to anything during the period in which I did this. I became a better person, but only after I did this to you. If i could have waited just a bit longer. I was trying to metabolize pain I couldn't handle, and ended up digesting you in the process. And the incident was so tangled up in myself that the memory couldn't even register as tangible. The layers of amnesia and fog hasn't yet cleared. I still can't make sense of it. And that's unfair.

I made these choices, and that is disastrous. It is reckless. It is unfair. And I hurt you more than youve ever been. All because I couldn't slow down. All because I couldn't help myself. That's not fucking fair. You never asked for this. It wasn't fair to you to be in a relationship that I wasn't ready for when I had the opportunity to slow down. I was just so excited. And reckless. That's no way to treat someone you love. I didn't slow down for you.

Your pain is valid. Do not let anyone tell yoh otherwise. You are worthy. You are loved. Your life matters. You are more than what I did to you. You are a kind person. You extend your love to all, your understanding is unmatched by any. You care so deeply for others, and your sense of justice is apparent in all that you do. Moreover, you care about yourself. You are concerned, and you are taking the right steps you need with the ability you have to do so. You tell me you let yourself down, and those feelings are valid. But this is not your fault. You did not do something wrong. You believed in me. And there is no crime in believing what you are told by people you love. I am the criminal here. I have let you down.

Your heart was worth more than what has been done to it. And you deserve no less than love. I am sorry that I have made you doubt yourself. You have every right to doubt me. Please don't doubt yourself. You are worthy.

"Sorry" is not the right word. There is no right word. There is no right. And I am sorry.

"Mark my words, there's a thousand things that don't wash out with anything."

I have had an unfortunate history with psychiatric healthcare and am thus quite skeptical of the handling of diagnostic criteria. I've experienced extensive medical malpractice in my life.

I am also skeptical of my own evaluation of said criteria. I have not had a good track record of knowing myself well enough to account for my behavior. Furthermore, I have a tendency to act in ways that I have witnessed. Mimicry and chameleon like tendencies are a deep part of the way I operate due to very intense relationship trauma.

I also faked illnesses in childhood compulsively. It is hard to pinpoint why. But I think there were times in which I genuinely believed what I said was happening. It may have been that there was some kind of need which I could only express through that vocabulary. This continued into my teenage years. I was being influenced by others in my life as well.

I was very intensely bullied and manipulated daily by a close friend from ages 9 to 17. Many of my mannerisms and characteristics are fragmented reflections of him. I have dreams about him nightly, as if he controls my life. There are times in which i experience myself as a projection of him in some kind of distinct dissociative period. At age 10, my step dad came into my life, who became very violent and emotionally abusive shortly after marrying my mother.

When I was 2, my father cheated on my mother, and my earliest memories are of her grieving, and my intense fear of abandonment. It felt like if I didn't have her, I didn't exist. I was also neglected and bullied by my much older siblings. My emotional needs were chronically left unmet and put down. I was excluded very often and hated. And i experienced intense religious trauma at a young age, being threatened with hellfire and damnation. I became explosive, narcissistic, and impulsive over time, and started to act out in a facticious manner in order to compensate for unmet needs.

The process of identity fragmentation is something that occurs automatically. I feel myself to be distinct people rotating in a chamber which house different compartmentalized emotion and personality experiences, oscillating between various levels of awareness and self monitoring. There are some parts that feel more distinct than others. Sometimes it feels like multiple are active at once. Like I'm appearing as one part, but my behavior and thoughts are being piloted by another, while I watch. Self concept can be mixed,

Self consciousness is intense. Derealization is perpetual and unending, and only becomes more intense. Depersonalization is always there but fluctuates in intensity and levels of awareness. My memory is really bad. I don't really have a grasp of how it operates. When I think my mind feels like i reach into a clouded space of nothingness and get shouted at by many different intrusive thoughts. I talk to myself in the second person consistently. And the switching is accompanied by distinct characteristics.

However, I dont lose memory in between switches, and am aware of them at times as they happen.

Recently I did something pretty uncharacteristic and failed to reason properly whether the occurence was a dream. I knew that it wasnt, but it felt like I was being told that it was by something else. I felt manipilated by myself. The sensation was that I was perceiving myself to be lying even though I thought myself to be telling the truth.

The circumstance involves another person. I have opened up to them about my dissociation before. They quite bitterly reject the notion of me having DID. I had never considered myself having it before. I know that its a very rare condition, and have been told that it requires quite extreme trauma to occur within a certain time frame.

I don't know if I fit that criteria. And besides, how do i know this isn't another bout of narcissistic facticious bullshit? Furthermore, I dont want to try to secure some kind of diagnosis that would absolve me of accountability for my wrongdoing. I hurt someone pretty terribly. That's my fault. I don't want an excuse.

And the stigma is paralyzing. I feel like a liar everytime I begin to consider such a diagnosis. So I've considered OSDD. My partner is quite cynical about it. It seems to be triggering for them. So I stopped talking about it with them. I don't want to invalidate them by talking about this stuff. My therapist is pretty secure on the idea that I do not have DID because of its rarity. I was pretty sure that I didn't. There aren't multiple people that I switch between without recollection of. But my identity functions similarly in some way.

My partner explained to me a conception of DID and forcefully asserted that I didn't have it. They offered that CPTSD is a better explanation for my compartmentalization. But the dissociation is just so extreme and unending. When is this kind of thing securely contained within a CPTSD diagnosis, and when is it time to consider other things?

I dissociate constantly. Derealization is perpetual. It gets worse with stress or emotional triggers, sometimes to the point of amnesia. I don't know how common amnesia symptoms are for me but I know that its generally difficult for me to access memories. This can intensify with the degree of stress surrounding the memory.

There is a specific mechanism that occurs in response and is hard to identify and is complicated. It's like a kind of denial that is to some degree deliberate. A distressing memory came up recently. I worried myself sick trying to recover it, while at the same time, another part of myself tried to actively obscure the facts so I wouldnt be able to take accountability. What it felt like was the memory came up, I actively denied it, and then lied about it in order to protect myself. I then believed this lie and couldnt distinguish reality. I was uncertain, but was hiding behind this uncertainty. I remember accusing myself of know but couldnt sit with the memories long enough to admit them to myself. And then when evidence would come up to support these memories, I feigned ignorance to myself, and then become convinced of my own ignorance. It was like I set up a trap and then walked into it in order to avoid responsibility.

I don't know if that makes sense. It's really distressing and confusing and I'm trying to make sense of it. It feels like a lie to say I'm not lying but it doesn't feel like the truth to say I know for certain. I think i exploited my own uncertainty to hide behind it. But this doesn't even make sense. How can I do something deliberately without being aware of it?

There is a physical sensation of switching, wherein I experience a different mode or sense of self with defining characteristics. Each distinct self have personal moods, affects, varying degrees of dissociative experience, mannerisms, aesthetics, and morals.

There are multiple of these identities. I've mapped them out in a journal to try to make sense of them phenomenologically. It seems that there is a core sense of self, the one who feels most like "me". This version is activated around specific friends and family members. Sometimes when I am alone this is the identity I assume. Another thing that triggers this is when I am able to talk about my condition in a meta way. Usually there is concern, distress, and desperation present when I am talking about this condition. Like, "dude what the hell is this, this is not normal. I've been asleep for weeks can you please tell me whats going on." It is my most truthful and honest self.

Then there is a more narcissistic self. This is where shame adapts into a malignant strategy. Lying, deception, disrespect of boundaries, narcissism, vanity, lack of empathy, cheating behaviors, manipulation are all localized here. There is also a deep sense of shame and relief of shame through pleasure and deceit. I would act in these ways as a child. I began lying at a young age. I disrespected boundaries. But there was still a feeling of guilt and shame upon realizing what I did was wrong. And instead of taking accountability, I would lie or deceive in order to appease the feelings. I just became aware of this one recently. Previously it had been suppressed, but it reared its ugly head and im having to deal with the consequences.

I have access to different levels of knowledge at different times. Regarding this particular memory, I keep going back and forth in my story. The details feel excruciatingly hard to piece together. Or hard to sit with emotionally before they dissappear.

There are four or so social selves. Their utility is usually the role of an ideal self. There is the Psychologist, the Philosopher, the Jester, and the Cowboy. They are usually discrete, marked by specific identity markers. The clothes I wear, dialect, gait, personality traits, etc. usually trigger and are triggered by these identities. Different colors and styles of clothing trigger a self consciousness that primes me to behave like said identity. I cannot act differently until triggered otherwise. Resistance to these personality states through trying to alter behavior is ineffective and usually leads to odd or very self conscious behavior. So its not a conscious choice to make these switches. Ive noticed that its only in reaction to certain markers that trigger an identification response. Pictures, symbols, words, and environment can also trigger them.

I am also very prone to self deception. When I was younger, I faked mental and physical symptoms for attention. Those got muddled with real symptoms. The dissociation, identity confusion, emotional dysregulation, however have all been consistent. So im very skeptical of these diagnoses given my facticious and deceptive past. To what extent have I fooled myself into living another lie? But at that point I have to ask myself, that if I truly induced this experience myself, does that make it any less real?

Then there's the reality breaking feelings. Dread, doom, fear of death, cosmic feelings of isolation, loneliness, despair. Sometimes i will have visions of primordial beings whom i identify with. Some of the feelings are localized in such visions. When I am alone there is also a strange response. Feelings of solipsism, extreme derealization, the cognition that I'm living in some kind of false reality or dream. There's a cosmic sense of terror and horror. It feels like one day I will enter some kind of dream that I will never wake up from, and im always teetering on the edge of that cliff of consciousness. I feel like my soul is weaving in and out of some kind of abyss or liminal space. That has been what I have called another part of my psyche. The Abyss.

Maybe its because through others I am able to identify myself, whereas alone I implode into inner darkness?

And my memories. I dont know to explain then, or the mechanisms surrounding them. I feel delusional. I feel like im making up some kind of story just to escape my reality. How do i explain the loss of memories and the contradictory interpretation of them? How do I recover said memories? How can I explain the process of denial that happened about them?

I feel unintelligible, nearly psychotic. There are points where I nearly convince myself that none of this is real and that I dont exist.

The nightmares are every night. The feeling of inescapable dread, violation, abandonment, shame, fear of death, fear of nonexistence are all there. And now that ive been talking about all of this, I'm starting to fall into that strange state of being trapped in liminal space.

I'm stuck in a dream I know I'm soon to wake up from. This isn't real. The nightmare will be over and I'll meet my lover again on the other side of this fake reality. The incident at the start of our relationship didn't happen. It couldn't have. I wasn't there. That wasn't me.

I know we'll meet again. I'll find them in bed with me and it'll all be okay.

And when we get up we'll make breakfast together the way we always do, and we'll talk about how we're feeling and what kind of day we're preparing for. And we'll sit on the couch and eat our breakfast. They have french style scrambled eggs with turmeric, black pepper, and spinach on one half of an English muffin (Don't forget the swiss cheese goes under the eggs and gochujang goes on top). And on the other half they have butter, maple syrup, and cinnamon. Then we half an avocado to share. In a green ceramic cup, they have dark roast coffee with stevia, cinnamon, and a splash of pecan milk. They always shake up the milk before they pour it because they love the texture.

We'll ask each other what we want to watch even though it's always Adventure Time. We've made it all the way to season 8, and we're gonna finish the show together like we were supposed to.

And usually, we watch an episode, and get almost to the end of the next one. But when they're done eating, its always time for a walk. So we pause our show, and I meet them downstairs while they get ready. Then we'll walk through town and I'll listen to them about the experience they're having. We'll talk about plans and what we're grateful for. I am grateful for them.

Its time for me to go to work. And while im there, I'll go down some rabbit hole in my free time and bring what I learned to them to share. And they'll listen to my silly ramblings and we'll laugh about it together. I'll tell them about how much I appreciate their presence in my life and they'll say that they feel the same. And we'll text each other throughout the day until I am off.

When we see each other again, they tell me they love me. And i say it back. And the words I love you aren't just a prescription of our expected relationship. It is the binding of our souls together and complete recognition of our experiences in each other. It is to behold our entire world and say, "you exist, and i am here with you, and i will never look away."

Tonight we'll sing and we'll dance together, we'll make dinner and we'll watch the rest of our silly episode and talk about life when we're on another walk together. We'll sit at the pond while the geese guide their young across the water and watch the sunset together. They have a headache and their legs are sore. When we get back, I'll make us some tea and they'll take some ibuprofen. And we'll talk about all the difficult emotions that have shown up in our day.

And when everything is quiet tonight, we will just stare at each other for a long time. And we'll believe in the dream we're building together like we are supposed to.

But today I woke up and you were not here. The nightmare is real. And no matter how painful the reality is it is not fair to either of us for me to deny it.

I would do anything for you. Even if that means letting you go. I love you to the moon and back. I see you clearly with my eyes and whole heart.

You're not feeling very well today, and I hear that. Your pain is real and you are so strong. You never deserved to be hurt like this. And I am so sorry that I am the one who did. I know that things don't make sense anymore. I see your sorrow and devastation. I see the desperation and confusion. I see the anger and loss of reality. I see you.

I will continue to be here for you within any boundaries that you set. I will keep showing up for you in the way that you deserve. I will show up. I will be there. For every appointment, every phone call, every bad day that you want to come to me about. I will run your errands and continue to be the partner you deserve with full acknowledgement of your needs. I will be who you need me to be until that is no longer needed. I will respect whatever outcome comes of this. I love you.

I gave you something that you never asked for but are now responsible for taking care of. That is not fair and never will be. My actions, no matter how ill I was, were still my actions. I am responsible for them, and I made choices that are my fault.

I am sorry for how I have distorted your perception of love and shattered your reality. I am sorry that I lied to you. I traumatized you and destroyed your safety and security in the most meaningful relationship that youve ever had. I made your deepest fears come true and invalidated every sensation of worth and esteem that you had in this relationship. I took the privacy that we were intimately weaving together and smashed it to pieces. I made everything you sacrificed about me. Every happy memory we spent together is a prison sentence. I gave you something to replay in your head over and over until youre so sick you cant breathe. I lied to you. I betrayed everyone in our lives. I betrayed your parents, your siblings, your grandparents. I betrayed my friends and family. I betrayed myself and everything I thought i was. I didn't just make a mistake. I pulled out a gun and shot you in the heart. I am so sorry.

You deserve so much love and care. And if that means separation, then don't second guess that decision. Please, please do what's right for you. You deserve to feel safe and cared for. My feelings do not get to influence that.

I love you.

I cheated. I was struggling with poor mental health and I used an opportunity of sex with another person as a method of self destruction and escape. I allowed myself to do this because i did not have healthy boundaries and wasn't thinking about the consequences. I did not tell them, and when confessing only 5 months later, lied about it.

This caused irreperable damage to my partner, to myself, and to our relationship. This person has been shattered because of this selfish, cowardly, disgusting choice I made. I will never be able to make up what I did and this person is now traumatized for the rest of their lives.

I look back at my life and realize the scum that I have been. I am a pathological liar. Ive been lying since a young age, and convince myself of my own lies. I lied so much that I would completely reinvent my reality. Sometimes for no reason. Sometimes for attention. Sometimes, and most damaging, to avoid accountability.

One of the reasons here is that in childhood, when I was held accountable for something, it came with deep shame and abandonment from others. There were no healthy boundaries for responsibility. If you did something wrong, you were not loved, and you were abandoned as a result.

Shame was equated with abandonment and death.

So the shame i experienced with the cheating resulted in a denial response. I lied to myself about the occurence and couldn't give my partner a straight answer. I wanted desperately to tell them the truth but did not. Eventually I was able to, but only when I called the person involved in the affair to verify. My denial had warped my perception of reality to the point of taking drastic measures to ensure internal consistency. But I desperately wanted to tell them to take accountability.

I realize that these lies were a choice as much as the cheating was. Sure it is hard, and against the way my brain has been wired. But that doesn't make me any less of a coward.

I came to these realizations only recently. I am going to therapy and continuing to journal and take in feedback from my support system. I have been watching videos on infidelity and relationships. I am soon to get a couple of books on infidelity and complex trauma.

I have been a very bad person in my life and the person I was supposed to love the most was destroyed by my selfishness. I desperately want to change so that i never do this again. I hated my affair and I hated what i did to them. I hate what I have done and what I am capable of. I feel such horrible shame. They didn't deserve this. I am so sorry. I don't know how to keep living. But I must keep living so that I can redeem my cowardice, even if I am forever a cheater.

Do you have anything to recommend? Any words of advice or wisdom?

I feel very confused currently. I am currently very dysregulated, so forgive me for any confusion here.

I think I reconstructed the narrative and lied to myself about the affair. I confused myself strategically in order to make the details do disorienting and foreign that I couldn't reasonably represent them to my partner.

I dont think this was intentional but I dont know to what extent it wasn't. I feel sick with uncertainty. The obsessive thoughts are just repeating constantly.

Not only am I a monster but a liar. I cant distinguish whats really real and its all because I cant face the reality of whats happened. I keep making it worse. I want to tell my partner about this but I dont know what will confuse them and I feel like im just going to speak from a place of activated shame and end up lying again.

I think that I lie unconsciously and then reinforce a narrative that fits that lie. I become genuinely convinced of the lie told, and I run from exposure to it.

How do I stop this cycle? I do not mean to lie like this and I am afraid the damage is too severe to be reconciled at this point.

I feel so tired. This person is destroyed because of me and i cant even give them a truth that isn't tarnished by my pathology. I feel sick and ashamed of myself. I really need help. I don't even know whats real and whats not and I'm starting to crack under the shame.

I know im lying to myself. But i dont know about what.

Trigger warning: Cheating and betrayal trauma

I have hurt someone with horrible cruelty, and I didn't realize the pain that I would inflict before carrying out this monstrous act. All I thought of was myself and my feelings.

I cheated on my partner two months into our relationship. I didn't allow myself to process any feelings about it. I dissociated, and rationalized the incident.

I did so with my ex. We had a very tangled relationship. We were codependent, toxic, and after the end of our relationship, our boundaries became confusing and blurred. I felt pressured to have sex with them, but still participated in a way to escape reality and seek self punishment.

I began to develop feelings for someone in the aftermath of my shit storm. I began to love them. When they asked for exclusivity I wanted to give it to them. But I felt discomfort with the idea of a relationship. They knew this, but we continued. We were still exclusive, although operated under the label of friends. We werent "just friends". We knew how we felt about one another. And we cared very deeply about each other. But there was still a wound there, and I was not careful enough to give it the attention it needed.

In February, I cheated on them with my ex. I was over at their house, a visit my partner knew about. But what ended up happening, I never did tell them. I was engaging with my ex in an unhealthy coping mechanism. I hadnt yet processed my grief and I found comfort in them. I felt like a monster. I remember having an extreme mess of emotions, contradictory and dissonanced. I was destroying myself.

And then I walked away, having told myself that what just happened actually didn't. That it was different, or in some different dimension of reality that somehow didn't actually exist. I gave myself permission in some disorded, deceptive way. I didn't tell my partner and texted them like nothing happened. I think that my lack of commitment enabled this.

I dont really remember the rest of that night. I hardly remember the incident. But I think that was something i did intentionally in order to cover it up.

The memory resurfaced recently while talking to my partner and I told them about my suspicion. The memory was so uncertain because of the layers of denial and dissociation I had packed on top of it. I told them about the memories I had, but didn't know for certain. So i called my ex. It did happen. And i told them about it immediately.

Looking at it now, I see all the different parts in play. I was afraid of commitment, self destructive, and ready to give up in life. And I made a decision to do something really destructive. I selfishly held onto the idea that this was something i did to myself and that they didnt need to know. And then when it came up again, I couldn't be straight up with them because of how extensively I manipulated myself.

I am deceptive. I am a pathological liar. I avoid accountability. Shame feels like an existential threat. And I use circumstances to avoid blame. I am a fake person. And i wasnt even aware of this until I really sat down and looked at myself. The layers of schemas my body has developed have obscured my intentions to myself. I have CPTSD and experience structural dissociation. I think a part of that is the self deception and denial of reality that I learned to internalize at a young age. I was neglected in childhood. My dad cheated on my mother and abandoned us before i could remember. I was isolated, shamed, ridiculed, and hated by my family. I was sexually coerced by people, bullied extensively, and abused physically and mentally by my step dad. He would threaten to kill me over slight transgressions, lock me in my room and tell me horrible things, degrade my mother and I, destroy property, hurt my pets, and then love bomb and gaslight me afterwards. In order to escape these pressures, I started to take on new identities and roles. I would dissociate heavily. I do not have DID but my symptoms are on a similar spectrum. Some of the complexes or identities I developed modeled my abusers, who were narcissistic and manipulative. I learned how to lie and cheat at a young age, and would repress accountability for such bad behavior by splitting myself into different compartments.

I have done some truly evil things in my life, and i used to blame it on being young or mentally ill. I am 20 years old now. I have committed another despicable act in a world full of good people and there is zero excuse for it. I have destroyed this persons life. They are going to be traumatized forever because of something I did and lied about. This shouldn't have been what made me learn my lesson. Because this persons lesson is that love doesnt actually exist. I maimed a persons soul. I took advantage and ruined someone. They have to be the one to pay the price of my redemption when I was too cowardly to do so already. I am a weak and narcissistic person. And there is nothing in the world, there is no good, and no proper payment that could atone for this. I did something cruel and unjust. They did not ask for this and it should not have happened no matter the circumstances.

Since that incident, I have committed to a better life. Ive changed a lot in these past 5 months. But I still did this to someone i said that I loved. And nothing can ever right that wrong. Nothing can ever forgive what i did. Nothing can ever give back what i stole. I care about this person so much, they deserve so much love and care. And I still did this to them because obviously I couldn't care enough to give them what they deserved.

Exclusivity is so important to them. And I confirmed all of their fears. The unimaginable extent of this treachery is something that i will never experience. Their self worth and esteem will have a permanent scar. I just informed them that they can't ever put their guard down. Their trust and security may not ever recover.

I hate what I have done. The day this stops eating me shall be the day I die. I will not let myself become numb to the damage ive done. And I will do everything I can to be the better person that I wasn't for them. I'm going to switch therapists. I've been watching videos about cheating and reading betrayed experiences online to get a better understanding of the harm thats been done. I am going to pick up some books to read. They need space right now, and I have been giving it to them. Sometimes it is hard, i want to reach out and let them know how deserving they are and how valuable their existence is. But they do not need to hear that from their abuser right now. What i can do right now is offer support in all that I can, and let them have space for what I cannot. I have been committing to acts of service for them, their family, and the people in my life.

I have been trying to combat malignant shame. I have already destroyed a life. I cannot allow myself to self loathe, no matter how evil I believe that I am. Maybe I am evil. But curling up into a ball and beating myself up about it will just make me an evil person who is also pathetic and cowardly.

I fucked up horribly. I have to hold space for that, feel how shitty this is, listen to ones who have sustained such abuse, advocate for people, and advocate for myself. I do not deserve forgiveness. And I will not forgive myself for a while. But eventually it will be the only thing that allows me to truly move on. But my slate shall not be wiped clean until I do the excruciating work it takes.

I love them so much. I do not know if our relationship will survive. But if i truly love them I must allow them to make a decision on their own, and understand that I am not owed a second chance. I am a person with a pathology that I have neglected and have ended up hurting many people. Its time to kill the ego that is responsible for this.

This shall be my first second milestone post about this. I am still trying to grow in my perspective on this. Right now im still the monster. Im still wanting to escape the consequences. Im still wanting to distance myself and make the truth more comfortable. In a few weeks I will look back with a more updated understanding and judge my progress. Im still very much confused about the whole truth of the matter, and realize that some of what I am saying may be contradictory. Im having a hard time processing this. Every part of my fractured sense of self is interpreting the events differently. Im getting closer although I am still a mess. The self deception and

identity confusion has made it difficult to sort myself out. I dont understand myself or my actions. And it is destroying my life.

If you have any advice, any words of wisdom, any similar experiences, any critique, or any frustration you want to vent, I will listen. I want to diversify my perspective, take more accountability, and truly commit to change.

If you have been abused by cheating, I am so sorry for what you have been through. You did not deserve what happened, neither is it your fault. Your abuser made a very self centered, immature, and destructive decision to put their needs before yours. They stepped outside of your partnership for their own disgusting and childish desires. You deserve so much love and care, and I will fight to the death to make sure I never introduce suffering like this into someone's life again.