I've never read a post which accurately described my state of consciousness. I've read about detachment and numb, but does anyone actually feel as if they are two people?
I'm not talking about multiple personalities. Instead, it's as if I have no free will, or I am merely observing my life. There is one me who acts, and there is one me which analyzes everything I do.
I was sexually abused for two years by a gym teacher. I don't remember exactly how often I was raped, but we had gym class twice a week, and my gut tells me that the sexual abuse occurred frequently. There was a pool in our school, and I know that I rarely went in it. He brought me to the locker rooom while my classmates swam.
During and after the abuse I stopped talking almost completely. I lost most of my social skills. I did well in school, actually much better following the abuse, but my thoughts were mad. I had gruesome, grotesque nightmares every single night. I developed almost stalker-like love obsessions with people. I starved myself and became handsome around fifteen, but I still didn't know how to hold a conversation with anyone. I took long walks, hoping to bump into someone to seduce me.
At eighteen, the nightmares suddenly ended. Over a few years, I gradually regained my sanity. But there is still a gap in me, in the region where a personality should have developed. I never really feel "there." I know how others see me, but I don't know who I am.
At nineteen, I wrote a poem called "Alex and I." My name isn't Alex, by the way, but I chose it to represent my exterior self. One of the lines has always stuck with me:
"That is not me in the mirror, it is a symphony of their errors."
I meant that when others look at me, their own biases and insecurities are reflected in what they see. I know that I am not that. But what's inside has never been constant. Once I cried all the time. Then, I became strangely unemotional. Once I was dumb, then I became one of the smartest in my class. Once I was crazy, then I became compulsively logical. I am nothing now, at twenty-six, like I was at sixteen. When I was sixteen, I was nothing like I was at six, two years before the abuse started.
So, I've accepted that I am two parts. "I" watch at a distance, while "I" interact with the world. I was so hypersensitive and timid for so long that it's the only way I know how to function.
Is it wrong? Someone lived through that horrific childhood. But he was so hurt, so warped. He died around eighteen, and that was the last time I considered myself "one."