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It is really hard to get in to see one. We've had a lot of bad luck with psychs, the first one we had retired as we graduated high school and that was the first time we went off meds after starting them. After that, a lot of psychs just trying to medicate the trauma away. Theoretically if we found another telehealth psych company we might see one sooner, but we can't use several of those services (or a handful of in-person ones) due to insurance revoking coverage once the sessions added up to $1000-ish, and every time we confirmed prior to starting services that insurance would cover them. It's one of the reasons we were dropped by our last psych.

It's been a week since we reached out to the psych our therapist found, and we're getting nervous because we haven't even received a waitlist or rejection email/call/text. We know it hasn't been very long, but it's still giving us a lot of anxiety.

angels are not messengers for g-d -
angels are a warning of g-d's true intentions.
true feelings.

burning for eternity
       power at the highest cost
paraded with charades of affection
       cast down without a second thought

a girl on fire
     kept aflame and
          cast aside by her creator

a girl on fire
     acknowledging hurt
          perpetuated by this "savior"

angels are a warning -
do not be afraid of me
be afraid of who created me.

Welcome to the forum! Hope it's okay to say, but it's nice seeing more systems on here

I'm sorry I don't really seem to have anything helpful to say, so just sending support.

Your response is helpful 
We're pretty sure there's nothing specific to DID medication-wise. As for psychs, yeah, that's part of what makes us nervous. Semi-compatible is better than nothing though, thank you for reminding us.
We don't remember if we've taken citalopram; have you noticed it making you more dissociative at all?

Sending support to you too :3

After some long back-and-forths with our therapist about not being able to manage our symptoms again, we've agreed to try seeing a psychiatrist for meds again. We can't really sleep or interact much with others, all of our symptoms have been ramping up like crazy. We've been on lots of different meds over the years and the best outcome we've had from them is 0 effect. As in, most of the time meds have either made things worse and/or caused terrible side effects, or at best have done absolutely nothing. We're terrified of trying meds again, but we can't keep going like this. Our therapist helped us find a psychiatrist that seems like a possible good fit (specializes in all our boxes but dissociative disorders), but that doesn't take the fear away. It is very difficult to find a provider that accepts and understands DID, or even trauma in general.

We've been on Prozac, Hydroxyzine, Seroquel, Prazosin, Lamictal, Geodon, Trazodone, Ambien, Klonopin, Zyprexa.. and those are just the ones we can remember. We know we've tried several other SSRIs, mood stabilizers, antipsychotics, and sleep meds. We had been diagnosed with many different combinations of bipolar disorder, bpd, psychotic disorders, and anxiety disorders throughout the years until we were diagnosed with DID and CPTSD (not including ED/autism). The last attempt we made at medication was two years ago while inpatient, as taking meds there was mandatory. We were unable to find a medication we could tolerate. Before the hospitalization, we had been prescribed Abilify but were unable to try it as we couldn't afford it. The psych that prescribed it to us dropped us shortly after. We've tried so many medications, we've sunk so much money into meds and providers that just gave up when meds didn't work out, it feels nearly impossible to go back to to this with any hope. We can only give a partial history (thx parents for losing our files) and we genuinely just don't remember all of the medications we've tried. We don't want to keep living like this, but being newly physically disabled makes the fear of side effects even stronger. Knowing that most medications will make us even more dissociative adds a new layer of fear, fear that our already spotty memory and poor communication skills will deteriorate even more. We remember losing our brain, being lost in dissociation even more often than now, being late constantly, not being able to hold conversations or even remember the pain we're in long enough to tell someone. It's taken the last three years of being mostly unmedicated to undo the deep dissociation that meds had put us in before.

Has anyone else been here? Or similar? If you've gone back to a psychiatrist after a couple years of not seeing one, were you able to find a helpful one? Were you able to find anything that helped? For others with dissociative disorders (especially DID) that are on medications, have you been able to find anything that helped without strengthening dissociation?

thank you everyone who responded. we're still struggling with it but we were able to pinpoint that a pain flare coupled with a "new" flashback exacerbated the denial. we've been trying some internal work of looking for who might be driving the denial and it seems to have leveled things out a bit.  hugs for those who like them, we're sorry you guys relate.

You two surprised me with a visit recently. I don't think you'd agree with me calling it a surprise, but when you text me less than 24 hours in advance I consider that a surprise. I also view your behavior as a surprise. You asked a lot about my physical health and pushed very little when I was done. You moved past any topics I brought up that normally would cause a fight. It wasn't perfect, but it felt like those times after something really bad had happened. And it's left me incredibly confused.

Can you help me understand what flipped that switch to make you care about me? What changed, what made you suddenly okay with me being my own person? What made you decide to help me with getting healthcare? Made you decide to help with bills? You still don't respect me, not fully, you still refuse to even acknowledge my queerness. Is it because I moved out after years of being kicked out and then berated for leaving? Is it because I started to build a network of adults that knew me and not you? Because I finally found a partner that isn't abusive? Because every lapse in therapy I've had has resulted in hospitalization? What changed?

Because it's not fair to me. It's not fair to me to have you 180 to supportive and caring with no explanations or apologies of the abuse you caused and enabled. It's not fair to me for you to play the aloof and unsuspecting parents, simply shocked and confused that anything traumatic could've happened. "We're sorry we didn't protect you better" means nothing when it was you who hurt me. "We didn't know" means nothing when I have countless memories and a handful of admissions from you that prove you did know. "I didn't think you'd remember" is the saddest, most pathetic attempt at an excuse I've ever heard. It's not fair to me to have to breakdown to even have you broach the subject.

If you really have changed, if you really do care, I hope you find it in yourself to tell me what you know. Tell me what you did. Apologize, sincerely, and take accountability for the harm you have caused me. Don't wait for me to fall apart again. Don't wait for me to hit my breaking point. Be forthcoming, take it upon yourself to prove to me that you've changed and that you regret what you did in the past. My whole life, the status and stability of our relationship has hinged on how much I've been willing to submit to your control and anticipate your moods and needs. The longer I've been away from you guys the more money you give me, the more you try to help, and unfortunately, unless you're willing to face your part in all this, all it does is hurt me more. Because this unspoken shift you've made adds to the confusion, the denial, the feeling of being a sick, dirty liar that you instilled in me. It's really hard to try and trust that you're genuinely trying to help when honest communication and connection is still solely on my shoulders.

Maybe that's intentional, maybe this is your obsession with public image driving you to care now. You can't brag about me and my accomplishments anymore, but you can brag about helping your disabled and mentally ill daughter despite me barely seeing you, "because that's what good parents do". Maybe your realities are truly so warped that you don't know that you abused me, that you enabled others abuse of me. Maybe you really are more confused than I am, but I find that doubtful. Maybe it's a mix of both, you can't admit that you contributed to my trauma but you can throw money at me to save your image and guilty conscience. Maybe you don't start the honest conversations because you don't think you did anything, maybe you don't start them because you're afraid of fully losing me. I don't know. But it's been 24 years of this internal battle for me, 24 years of having to try and trust and believe in myself alone, 24 years of trying to navigate finding physical safety and emotional safety, 24 years of trying to connect with you and failing unless it was perfectly to your tastes and within your comfort zones..

It truly doesn't even matter to me anymore what I remember right and wrong about you, because after 24 years I'm sick and tired of it being my job to figure everything out and know everything on my own, and then also have to prove to you with zero room for uncertainty that I'm not lying or crazy or delusional or the reason anything bad happened.. The best thing I can say about you is that either you were so disconnected and unaware of my personal life growing up that you didn't know just how badly I was abused, or you knowingly and willingly kept all of it hidden and made sure that I remembered as little of it as possible. Those two statements are the BEST statements I could possibly make about you. I don't know what the worst ones are, but I know that bare minimum you allowed me to be trafficked and abused. I know that you were involved, to some extent, and I know that you were sexually inappropriate with me whether you viewed it that way or not.

And the worst thing I can say about myself is that I loved and trusted you so much that I spent 13 years destroying and ignoring myself to try and please you, and after that love and trust had been broken enough times, I did my best to keep my issues to myself because I couldn't handle the fear simply being near you fills me with. I never spoke out because every time I tried, you shut me down. I was so afraid of you that I would abandon entire topics and issues in therapy and school because simply knowing they were on the table made me feel like you were going to punish me. To this day, I struggle with paranoia that simply having a feeling will somehow give you a reason to pull the rug from under me. I still check for spyware and cameras. I still fear that you can read my mind. Most of my denial boils down to "why am I making up all these lies? why am I so intent on hurting my family?" and the only way I can make sense of it is by letting myself believe that you did this intentionally. The abuse I endured in my teen years, the abuse from my early 20s -- abuse completely removed from you -- the denial of those instances still boils down to "but why would I make family look bad?".

So please, if any part of you has any amount of genuine care or compassion for me, reach out. Start the conversation. Own up to it and take accountability. Show me that you want me to improve. Tell me what you know happened to me, even if you think I don't remember. Give me something, anything, that lets me believe that you care. Let me out of this cycle.

Recently we've been struggling a lot with what we don't know about our past. Our body knows, it remembers, but the more we learn and understand the less anything makes sense. Each new flashback fills in the gaps that our body has been trying to communicate; half of them aren't even new, we're just able to comprehend them for the first time. The problem now is that we have even less of an idea as to how our "normal" life hid the abuse and how the abuse and "normal" parts happened together. Also, the more we learn the less we know about how or when any of it ended.

It feels like there's no winning. Not knowing, not having anything beyond somatic memories and emotional flashbacks, and having to just trust ourselves is nearly impossible to deal with. Constantly confused and questioning why our body and mind are reacting to things that we're completely oblivious to; the intense denial, self-blame, and constantly fighting internally. Knowing, though, means having to accept that all of the abuse we endured both did happen and that we are expected to be a person regardless. Knowing means understanding the flashbacks we have, constantly being bombarded with warnings about the world around us, being unable to engage with the outside world unless our interactions are very carefully curated because when we know what happened we can see all the different societal norms and systems that contributed to our abuse and hiding it. Knowing also means knowing that we will either never fully know what happened, or that we will continue to be stuck in the cycle of remembering and denial until there's nothing left, and considering it's been ten years of untangling this web, that our life will never truly change.

Every day is a struggle internally between trying to do the work and trying not to drown in it. Constantly telling ourselves that we aren't lying, we aren't making it up, we only know what we know, etc and having to find ways to prove those statements without triggering ourselves further.  We don't know how to come to terms with not knowing, it makes this even more isolating.

please let us know if there's a better category for this. our birthday is soon and it's stressing us out really bad right now. it's always been a hard day for us. currently it means there's been Even More contact with family than normal this month. we've been doing our best to not let it affect us too much. it's our third birthday away from our family, first birthday in our place with our fiance. it should be our most peaceful birthday yet.

but our family can't seem to take a hint. and by that we mean comprehend the texts we send. they ask what day we want them to visit, we let them know that we have plans with our fiance and that we can visit after our birthday when he has time off work again. then they ask if they should plan for us to get there the day before or day of, we re-tell them our plans and that we will visit afterwards when we can. they ask "so the day after?". we say no. re-tell them our plans. give them slightly more detail, re-emphasize that we have plans Alone with our fiance. finally, 2/4 of them understand. then they start asking about gifts. first we say we don't know, we don't have anything in mind. they push, they press. we say we want to get summer clothes and maybe go out to a museum and dinner, but we don't have anything specific in mind. they send us rent money as a gift. we had to spend some of it on food and other bills already. which is great! but now also terrifying, because that means there's a 50/50 chance that they're not helping past that anymore. and without their help we have maybe 2 weeks to find someone willing to hire someone with our disabilities before we start losing necessities. then the other two keep pushing to come to our apartment. we keep saying no, we will come to you. but it just doesn't compute. *, one of them sent two messages and a voicemail reiterating their request for what day they can visit just 20 minutes ago.

our fiance's family has been fine about it, mostly just checking to see if we wanted them to come over/meet up somewhere. they've all respected our plans once told about them. we will probably just end up with some presents from them next time we see them. it makes us uncomfortable, but refusing a gift from them (even if they know we don't expect one from them/said we don't need anything) is worse than telling them their cooking is bad, and they're a family of quite amazing chefs/bakers. it's always a bit nerve racking to receive gifts for us. which leads to, apparently one of our friends has a birthday present for us and we are also very nervous about it. we don't like opening gifts in front of people because our facial expressions and tone rarely match how we actually feel and we have to perform excitement (which people pick up on) or react authentically (which people take as ungrateful) and it feels like a lose/lose.

and.. our fiance. he wants so badly to give us an amazing day. we have plans to eat at one of our favorite restaurants and go thrifting, maybe go to a museum if our body is okay with it. but this work week has been * on him. and he's so tired. any time spent with him will be perfect, but he's been so focused on hyping up our birthday plans that we've actually started to look forward to them. we have expectations now, and we don't like expectations. we've spent the last two days trying to balance the excitement with reassurances that we'll be okay and have fun even if our plans don't happen the way we expect. we've tried reminding him that what we care about most is spending time with him but he's dead-set on giving us a day out that we can enjoy because we don't really get that anymore since our disabilities got worse.

we have so many conflicting emotions about our birthday already. it was never really about us as a kid, at first it was a way for our parents to show off how "good" our family is and if our parents could buy our love. then it was about how good we could make our parents feel (and how much we could let them control us). it's always been about how good we could make others feel. i think last year was the first time we didn't cry on our birthday. and on top of the day itself, it's surrounded by traumaversaries. so the flashbacks have been taking a toll too. we know logically that our fiance's family and our friend aren't seeing our birthday the way our family does, and that our fiance doesn't either, but having so many people pay attention to it is stressing us out.

and now, despite wanting this to be our most peaceful birthday, and setting it up to be that, it's.. not. we don't know whether or not our parents are cutting off their help. we don't know whether or not our other family will make a surprise visit. we don't know who we're getting presents from outside of our one friend, or if we even are (rather not). and we don't know if we'll be able to carry out our birthday plans (that have been planned for weeks) because our fiance has been so exhausted and we might not have enough for bills.

we hope you're doing better now, we know this post is a bit old.

the first thing we would do is remind ourself that 1: we are not still there in the abuse, and 2: we didn't do anything wrong. even if we think we already know that about the flashback/situation, we remind ourself anyway because it helps solidify the knowledge. then we validate the emotional response. we have the emotional response because those feelings still exist in our body, and even if it feels like overreacting, denying them or trying to stop them is counterproductive to moving past them. for us, we like to make sure that we're physically comfortable during emotional flashbacks. it only helps a little bit, but being able to acknowledge something like "this blanket is really soft" or "i like the decorations around me" helps us reconnect with where we actually are, and over time it helps us break from the flashback. another thing we usually do during flashbacks is remind ourself that our to-do list is not as important as caring for ourself, even if the things we have to do are also technically self care.

something else that helps us is writing out the emotions during an emotional flashback. it doesn't always work, but if we're capable of putting some of it onto paper, it can lessen how heavy it feels internally. for really bad ones, we'll write what we can about it and then rip the paper up or burn it. other than that, we also tend to try to find activities that help us get out of our head. sometimes that means reading a book that we know we love, or building a new house in the sims, or rewatching a comfort show. sometimes it means we search for new baking recipes, sew new patches onto our bag or do our makeup or nails just for fun. the things that help are different for everyone, but the basis of dealing with emotional flashbacks often seems to be validating and allowing the emotions to be heard/felt, but also finding ways to remind yourself of the here and now and comfort yourself.

if this is the wrong place to post this, please let us know where would be most appropriate and we'll move it.

TW: mentions of addiction

we've been going to a local trauma recovery/community center since january and it's been mostly good, but the cracks are forming and we're unsure of how to proceed.

it started out pretty good, most people there are older than us (i think we are actually the youngest participant), but it seemed like a great place at first. it was really nice to meet others with similar life experiences, especially nice to meet older people with DID. it's somewhere between hanging out and group therapy. we've been (seemingly) well liked by everyone, everyone's been really kind, and our shares in group have been well received. we've never been told by any staff of issues, in fact, before this the only issue we had was that another participant was behaving inappropriately and was very obsessed with us.

the problem is is that apparently, because we occasionally attend the dual diagnosis group, that one of our friends there was told off by one of the PRS for bringing us vanilla extract? that happened a couple weeks ago. like, our friend got told she's not allowed to bring anything in anymore, and that she most likely set off an alcoholic relapse for us. however, despite our friend being told that, no one reached out to us? it seems to us that if the concern was really in our safety, then they should have checked in with us?

our friend told us about this last night. we definitely believe her, there have been a couple smaller instances that showed us that the some of the staff engages in favoritism. we are pretty in shock(?) because the PRS that said all that to her is(was?) one of our favorites and one of the ones we were most comfortable with. but now we don't know? we understand concern for our safety, but it doesn't feel genuine? the PRS made a bunch of assumptions about us and framed us as if we were in the depths of alcohol addiction, despite knowing nothing about our history. it feels really icky to have those assumptions be made, especially because the PRS claimed that our fiance buys us alcohol-free vanilla extract? which is entirely untrue? we don't even drink, at most we'll occasionally taste a mixed drink if our fiance or in-laws offer, but we don't like alcohol. our body can barely even process it! so physically, we legitimately cannot take more than a sip or two.

we want to talk to the PRS who said all this because they have been a big help to us there outside of this situation, but we don't know how to approach this as there is only my friends story to back us up and we're afraid that the PRS will deny it and punish our friend, as they have already singled our friend out for things that others have been allowed and even encouraged to do, and have given our friend personal rules that other participants do not have. we want to talk about it because we would like to keep going, it really has been an incredible resource for us and the only IRL community we have. but we don't know what to do or say, because involving others could make it worse, but also only talking to the PRS that started it could make it worse too. and we were hoping that maybe someone here had any ideas or insight. we talked to our fiance about it, but we didn't tell him which PRS it is because he can be a little too ready to defend us for our liking. we are going to talk to our therapist about it next time we see her too.

1. we washed the bedsheets
2. the dishes are almost all clean
3. we ate breakfast today

What do mean by "here now"? Is that you admitting to failing me as a child? I know you won't, you can't, but is it? I hope you know I notice all your little slip-ups. And as I heal, I remember old slip-ups and they make sense now.

Do remember, when I was home from college because covid shut everything down, that talk I had with you? When I told you about the abuse I experienced at the hands of other children? When I told you I remembered multiple adults, including you and your dad, catching it happening? You told me you stopped it then, that you made sure the other kids were punished that time you caught it happening in the playhouse. That one incident? Yeah, you stopped that one. But it kept happening. And you punished me after you stopped it. "How dare you let them play with you that way?" and "You're not supposed to do that with others" have been burned into my brain since that day. You told on yourself then. And I remember it now, even if you deny it. Did the schools and police really never contact you about what happened to me there? I know they blamed me, but did you, too? Do you? Because it feels like you blame me. And what did you mean when you said "My dad never sexually abused you, right? If he did I'll kick him out right now"? I told you no back then, that he was only ever mentally and physically abusive. But you seemed so unsure, so on edge with the idea of him staying in the house. I'm not there anymore, and he doesn't live with you guys anymore.

But you also covered for Her. You told me I was remembering wrong, that she had always taken me to the doctor and always listened and helped me with personal issues. Then when I laid out the timelines, reminded you of all the times you two had pushed pills on me, had forced me to eat food that hurt me, had starved me, had put off taking me to the doctor until I was housebound.. It goes on. It took five years for you guys to get my wisdom teeth removed. It was a hastily made appointment, you were trying to make sure I had the surgery before I turned 18. By the time I got them removed, there was a 50% chance of jaw paralyzation due to how tightly the roots had grown around the nerve.

You told me, in tears, that you were sorry.. for being a * parent. Then you put the whole burden on me, you made me comfort you and hug you and had absolutely no care about how uncomfortable and scared I was of you touching me. No care about how much it hurt me to tell you that it was okay, that you hadn't failed, because you kept blaming yourself and guilt-tripping me. The one and only thing I will give you is that you told Her about what the neighbor did, and that the you made her cut that whole family out of Her life because they had hidden it for so long.

Do you remember when you went through all my things and forced me to come out to you? Or the second time? Or the third? Or the time you simply found out I supported trans people? Do you remember threatening me with conversion therapy? Do you remember threatening to put me in an asylum for no other reason than saying LGBT people are people? Do you remember the last time I asked you about this? You denied it. All of it. Do you remember telling me that I couldn't be nonbinary because "what will all our friends/family think"? That you couldn't call me anything other than your she/her daughter? I have come out to you against my will a minimum of three times in my life. I have taught you language, I have taught you tolerance; you credit all of that to your friends and personal growth. And yet, you can respect any LGBT person you meet as long as they aren't me.

Do you remember all the times you went through my things and found people grooming me? Do you remember all time times you encouraged my eating disorder? All the times you bought me clothes and then ruthlessly bullied me for wearing them? Do you remember buying me a literal dog collar instead of a choker for Halloween? Because your reasoning was that chokers were for prostitutes, they were inappropriate, and that a dog collar was much better and "fitting" for 8 year old me.

I remember. I remember it all and more. And I will keep writing these questions to you until I have so much that you have no choice but to acknowledge it. Because one day I will make you remember, and you will understand why I am distant, and you will respect that.

Hi, I know we don't talk much. You reach out, I know, I know. I don't respond. You're wondering why I'm so distant? It took you awhile to notice. No, I know. I've been distant for ten years. Twelve. Stop looking back, you'll only hurt yourself. I've been distant for most of my life. You have no idea why? Really?

You don't, and have never, listened. Every time you ignore my responses because they don't say exactly what you want, you're not listening. Every time you ask me the same question on repeat for days, you don't listen. Every time you tell me that you're going to visit, you're not listening to me. I know, I was good at faking being close until I knew that what you were doing to me was abuse.

I know, you treated me better than your parents treated you. I don't really believe that, unless your parents also sexually abused and trafficked you. Yeah, I know he hit you. You hit me too. Don't you remember telling me that you stopped once I got good at talking? But you didn't stop, not really. You may not have left many marks, but you threw me. You swung me around. You gave me concussions. You abused me, then abused me again as punishment any time you "caught" someone else abusing me. I wonder if you ever abused me after your dad did, the memories are too fragmented to put together on my own. Do you really think that sexual and emotional abuse is better than physical?

You took me to the dentist, not the doctor. Remember telling me that the doctor hated me? Remember forcing me to eat foods that I'm legitimately allergic to? Remember using Him to get my inhaler refills instead of taking me in? Remember when my little sister's dermatologist was begging you to make an appointment for me because my eczema was so bad that it was bloody? I could go on. You also lost every record of mine, all my medical records, my birth certificate, my social security card.. Remember we had to reach out to all my past schools to get my vaccination records for college? And I was still missing some. I had to get them at the college clinic because you never made me the appointment. We knew I needed my wisdom teeth out for five years before you let me get them removed, it wasn't a money issue like you said. I understand money enough now to know that you were more content to spend it elsewhere than you were to help me in any way.

I know, I know. You got me therapy. I don't see it that way though. You let me go to therapy because it was court mandated after I was released from my court mandated inpatient stay. That you fought, quite hard, to not let me go to. I remember you fighting with CPS. The glass walls of the ICU don't hide much sound at all. I know you were trying to avoid any further action than the ICU stay. I remember how scared you sounded when CPS said they could discharge me home so long as CPS could make home visits. The way you switched up on that, from demanding to take me straight home to "no, no we just can't afford inpatient", as if you weren't trying to hide anything. I'm still upset with you for fighting with them. They never finished their interview with me. I didn't have all the words, but I had enough that I thought telling them would change something. But there you were, glaring at us from outside the room. We kept getting choked up, we asked them if they could come back again because we needed to tell them something. But you had barged in, and they never came back. And I got sent to that hellhole of a hospital. No children's ward should be run by religion a cult.

No, I won't give it to you that you kept me in therapy past the court mandate. All that did for me was give me the drive to learn more about myself and figure out where everything went so wrong on my own. Being a minor living in an abusive household, I knew better than to share too much with my therapist. I knew she was a mandated reporter, and I knew that anything I reported to her, she would first report to you. And you two would deny it. I knew that the "really bad things", the abuse I couldn't put into words, had been over by your hands for long enough that I would only end up getting hurt worse.

Speaking of, how dare you build us such a perfect life from the outside? How dare you put so much effort into appearances, into being a "model citizen"? See, this is why I have a hard time believing anything you say to me. Because how could you not know what you were doing to me? How could you not know that routinely abusing your child would turn me into this? How could you not know that dropping the entire emotional burden of a six person household on a THREE YEAR OLD would break them? How could you not know that abusing me and then punishing me for being abused, gaslighting me for decades about every little tiny thing, how could you not know? How could you punish me for doing what you told me to? I know you don't remember. Maybe you do, somewhere deep in the back of your mind. But you don't, and I know you don't because if you did you would leave me the    alone.

I know, you guys pay for almost everything I have and do. You always have. I know that. But that's not enough. As much as I wish I could keep taking your money and talking to/visiting you until I'm stable on my own, that will never be the case. I am disabled. Mentally and physically. I know you want compensation from me because I'm taking your money. But I'll never be stable on my own, and I will never be able to talk to or visit you in a way that satisfies you. You keep telling me that you're here now, that you'll help me get anything I need to live a fulfilling life. But how am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe that now, at nearly 24, you care about my physical and mental wellbeing enough to foot the bills for them? That you want me to eat, and that you want me to eat food that's safe for me? That you want me to have a place to live even if I can't work? None of those sentiments from you two existed towards me until I moved cities without telling you. You didn't even recognize me as my own person until I was 21! And that was only because I told you I was moving out for good after the last time you kicked me out. So yes, you fund my life still. But now we're both miserable with the situation, and you can't take it out on me without my fiance joining in on my side. And I can't take it out on you without losing my car and my house, so I guess we're even now.

I know this is long. I know it's all over the place. I have more to say but the more I type, the faster the thoughts put themselves together and my fingers just can't keep up. You built me such a perfect life from the outside, but the only thing inside was a twisted, distorted, contorted life so full of contradictions that I have spent the majority of it trying to convince myself that I even exist. So yes, I'm distant, but my distance from you should be much less impactful on your psyche than the distance you've created between yourselves and me has been on mine.

p.s. - there will be more

we know it's an old thread but we've had the same feelings about our current therapist. we're still dependent on her, but not nearly as much as we were at first or after our last inpatient stay. it comes and goes but as we've gotten more used to the feeling of someone being on our side it's gotten easier to handle. almost like every time we get past one of those "she listened too well and now i must Evaporate" phases our littles(inner children) let go of a little bit of their fear/anxiety.