Phantom Limb

No one was more proud of me than I was of myself.

The prospect of living a new way of life was more terrifying than any anticipation of my death.

I would like you all to try and remember that you are not your mental illness. Your mental illness is only a part of you.

I didn’t know how someone could be so sure of themselves without someone else defining them.

The world still existed and had continued moving. There was a part of me that thought the world was on hold, but time hadn’t stopped while I was in the hospital. Time hadn’t waited for me to catch up. It had kept going and it was going to keep moving forward whether I wanted it to or not.

our brains don’t let our bodies die from grief, even if we want to and it feels like we might.

Unlike some who learned to live with the phantom pain, I never would. I was condemned to live with the unseen ghost of my lost part.

Dr. Larson after visiting the grave, he explained that the battle I had between selves was because I had an identity fugue that allowed me to assume a new identity while still maintaining a true identity.

Rose wasn’t able to see her reality, but I’d seen mine. And I was terrified.

And for you, she really was. Your brain continued to create Emily. But in reality, you’ve been both Emily and Elizabeth for two years.

I’d hurt her feelings, but I didn’t have the strength to try to make her feel better.

I just wanted to hear his voice.

During our junior year, the football team had a competition where they awarded point values to each girl and then proceeded to see who could earn the most points by sleeping with them.

I love you more than I did before.” My heart melted. He still loved me even though I was in a psych ward.

We had something called occupational therapy instead of regular group with Mark.

Another woman, who looked like she was my age, identified herself as my occupational therapist;

I’d started to question if it was possible to be close to someone who didn’t already know everything about me or if I could develop a bond with someone if I hadn’t gone through traumatic events with them.

Now it was as if part of my body had been suddenly chopped off. I was an amputee, and like any amputee, I was left with the excruciating phantom pain of being tortured by my lost limb. Every person who’d lost a body part still felt the burning, throbbing ache as if it was still there, and the empty void of Emily would never leave me. Unlike some who learned to live with the phantom pain, I never would. I was condemned to live with the unseen ghost of my lost part.

understood why Emily spent so much time sleeping. It was the closest you could get to death without physically dying.

She had her armor and I had nothing, which meant my body and soul were never my own and anyone could reach in and invade me. There wasn’t a single part of me that had gone unmarked.

I was an amputee, and like any amputee, I was left with the excruciating phantom pain of being tortured by my lost limb.

For the first time ever, I understood why Emily spent so much time sleeping. It was the closest you could get to death without physically dying.

I’d always been cynical about falling in love, because I was afraid I wasn’t capable of it, and it was exhilarating to discover I was.

Sometimes I thought my past hurt him more than it hurt me.

When girls are sexually abused, they tend to behave in one of two ways—they either become extremely promiscuous, or they end up avoiding all forms of sexual behavior and become unresponsive to sex.

People’s brains are powerful. Extremely powerful. You’d be amazed at what they can do.

Losing time is a big part of your diagnosis. Your psyche is disconnected and fragmented into different parts. Sometimes in dissociative states, people function very differently from the way that is typical for them. When this state becomes very severe, some people develop other states of being or might even act as if they’re a different person.

Maybe this will help. Have you ever lost periods of time? Has there ever been an occasion where you were awake and did something you weren’t able to remember you’d done or where you were?

The particular name for your disorder is a Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified.