I suffer from Complex PTSD and Dissociative Identity Disorder which means I have alters that switch in and out of my own personality. Two of those alters are very destructive and cause me to self-harm. I keep a stash of razor blades that I use when I switch into these alters and frequently we end up in ED to receive stitches. It is very stressful for my husband and family but I refuse to tell them where the razors are hidden. They have turned the house upside down and haven’t been able to find them.
The switching normally happens during the night so my husband is asleep so is unaware of where I have got the blade from (I am too). I am unaware that I have even cut and only find out in the morning when I wake up. However, last night, I, in full consciousness got a blade out when he was in the bathroom and got under the sheets and started cutting. He came out of the bathroom and of course caught me redhanded. He was furious saying I couldn’t blame this one on dissociation which is perfectly true. I just wanted to punish myself. I just wanted to cut as retribution for all the wrongs I had done as a child. (I had been the victim of a paedophile ring from age four to eighteen).
He examined the wound and decided it didn’t need stitches and fly stitches would fix it so he set about repairing it and cleaning it up. I have never seen him so angry. He said, “You can’t keep doing this to us. You have to tell us where the blades are. I will never sleep again now that I know you are doing it consciously”. I told him no I not would tell him and flatly refused to speak any further. I was in some kind of daze.
Then he lost it and just started pulling the room apart. He turned out every drawer, emptying it and going through it with a fine tooth comb, yelling “Tell me where the goddam blades are”. I just sat on the edge of the bed like a stunned mullet unable to say anything. When he found nothing in the drawers of the tallboy, he went through my jewellery box, bedside table and the went into the walk-in-wardrobe. Five minutes later he came back out and said: “Is this is the only stash you have?”
He had found them!
I was bereft. I couldn’t believe it. He had actually found them hidden in an old shoe behind a camera bag. My precious blades were gone. I could no longer punish myself. My mother alter would be furious. What punishments would she line up for me now? What would the seventeen-year-old do for punishment? How would she punish herself for all the things she did with the men all those years ago? My husband had taken all that away from me. He didn’t realise what he had done. The magnitude of what he had done. I would have to find another way. I was so angry with him.
So today I am as flat as a tack and rudderless. I am angry with my husband whilst he is delighted with himself feeling safer than he has for a long time but I can’t express my anger. I know its because he loves me and wants to take care of me. I know I am lucky he has stuck with me all these years but I am still oh so angry.
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