Hated by all (well, not really...)

...sigh.

Spent an hour this morning in the mental health centre. Answering question after mindless question from one big book. Drugs and alcohol every third page. Mostly about memory. For the last time, I don't remember if I can't remember anything! Honestly... but at least it's progress. All signs so far are pointing to a positive diagnosis for DID. This won't make it better, but at least I have a reality now. That's why people struggle so much coping with these things. They want something that will make everything go back to the way it was. But there are some things that can't be fixed. However much you fix and scrape and pry and comfort you can never, ever change the fact that this terrible thing has happened. That will never go away.
They wanted to know whether I'd had any unusual experiences. They don't care what they are. They don't want to know about the purple flashes, or the titan jellies, or the scars running down my back. The whole time I was answering these questions I wanted to shout "there was more to it than that! There's a story behind it! This isn't a statistic, it's important to me!" But then of course we wouldn't have been able to finish. It took a full fifty minutes.

Oh, and then later on a friend of mine made an entirely untrue (and extremely hurtful) comment about the nature of DID. I was appalled, since she's the last person I'd expect this kind of ignorance from, and while usually she'd at least state her own case she didn't want to argue because she's got other problems at the moment. So now I've got a pit of simmering anger boiling a hole in my stomach. I can't take it out on her - not that I'd be inclined to anyway - and I'm not allowed to take it out on myself any more. It twists and burns.
Incidentally, her mind is mahgging impenetrable. I wonder what her story really is. It makes it all the worse that I've lost much of my respect for her.
Seriously, WTM!?

Watched The Shining last night. I liked it. I think it says a lot about me that I didn't flinch or even blink during the whole thing, except on the word Tuesday. I grasped a lot more of it in my own way than other people might, though I'm still not convinced I understood the whole thing. It's the sort of film you have to see more than once. There are many, many subtleties you never catch the first time through. I liked the mirror scene; I found the movement of the eyes entertaining. I also loved it from the start for casting Shelley Duvall as Wendy, who I think is the only genuinely beautiful female lead I've ever seen in any movie. Think about it.

Very few people know why I hurt. I guess I should be sad about that. To be honest, I've been having trouble feeling much of anything lately. I'm cold and numb, inside and out.

Haven't heard from Danica in awhile. I hope she hasn't gotten sick of me. No, that's overreacting and pessimistic... you know, the usual banter...

Essays to write. I hate essays.