Authentic self...

I don't feel like I can live authentically. I have to be on guard and careful. Make sure part transitions are smooth an people don't notice when its not quite me. Holding all that in is stressful causes me more anxiety and this sense of shame thats not fair. If my diagnosis makes others uncomfortable shouldn't that be their problem and not mine? I was recently confronted about how openI am with my depression and anxiety and that it bothers people. I just felt sad that they couldn't look at it with curiosity. If you don't understand it that's ok...and its not contagious. You won't catch it from me. I live an overall positive upbeat life. Not because I choose to rise above this. Its because its under control the depression and anxiety. My medication works! Thank God! And my innate nature is positive. Im a glass has plenty kind of gal. Im not a victim although I have been victimized in the past. Im not a survivor although obviously I survived. Im not even a thriver. I just am. I can't pretend my mom was any less of a complex being--I lived hiding the monster inside of her. Bought in to saving the family image. I just can't do that because I need to give myself permission to heal. I fragmented to cope. I was ingeniously creative and found my own special way to survive. I don't hate my mom even when I say she was a crazy bitch! I hate what she went through and put me through--you have to feel pretty bad to be as loving and tender hearted as she was and be capable of the cruelty she bestowed on her children. Its complicated. I can't pretend it isn't. I think it would shock so many people to know how she could be. Sweet loving June? Never. But she was at times so scary and cruel. Call me a name any name. I don't care. My own mom called me worse and said and did such awful things that four eyes and goody two shoes...didn't even nick my armor. I learned to split so that what my mom said what my dad said and didnt say just didnt matter so why would anyone elses words even come close to being important?
I want to give myself permission to not hide my DID and screw the people who dont understand or think Im crazy instead of realizing what a gift DID is to me and those around me.
I dont repeat my moms patterns of abuse. Or my dads pattern of neglect. My mental "illness" is what gives me strength to address life as it comes at me.
Its an eventful ride to be sure! But I'm not crazy even if an old lady with a southern accent is the one doing the processing and talking in a situation or a punk add kid defiantly stands up to authority. Its who I am. All of it. I've only scratched upon its surface here but I just want to be me. No matter who I am in that moment its still me. I don't want to let worry hold me back anymore if you can't handle the friendship once you know? Buh-bye. I'm not going to apologize for telling the truth from the beauty of all that my mom was to the terror she reigned our home with. From the 3 yr old girl who is scared to the wisdom of the gentry at my gates. Im all here for very good reasons. I ingeniously found a way to live. Im 35 years old, and I have Dissociative Identity Disorder. Yes sometimes there is chatter in my head. No Im not schizophrenic or Sybil. And yes Sybil is the first thing I thought of when I heard the diagnosis. Im tired now and need to sleep but I will be living out loud this year. I will be living Authentically. Whether you like it or not.