sometimes, everything that has happened to me I pretend happened to someone else like my invisible friend or real friends, then I will go on ok for ages living a fake beautiful life that someone else has created for me. and at some point the bubble bursts. a crisis. then the plateau of emotions and coping strategies my mind makes up are disturbed or if I can hide them from the people around me. the therapists call this splitting. I just zero in on a place in the wall or ceiling when I am in company I can not handle and freeze or just suddenly “BE” someone else to survive the night with friends. just so they can not see the scars in me or on me. sometimes little things slip by or a mistake here or there. and I am crushed. I used to think “god if my sister and her husband or my extended family or worse my friends ever found out the truth about my illness, depressions, and nervous breakdowns I would die” now I don’t give a rats a** what the fuckers know!
