Invisibility

It's hard to remember that I don't actually disappear when I'm not in front of people. It's a struggle I've had all my life, this expectation that people just forget I exist when I'm not right there with them.

My analytical part says, "Well, that makes sense, because, from available evidence, during your formative years, people did forget you were there. Important people. People whose job it should have been to always make it clear that they remembered you, and you were important. Your parents seemed to forget your existence. Like forgetting to pick you up after you'd been away; like not writing letters to you or having you for a visit."

I try to explain to people, when I express surprise that they should remember my existence, that it's not that I think they don't like me, just that I kind of... disappear when they're not thinking about me. Like I'm not real, or something.

It's harder, I think, because of the DID. Because there are parts of me that even I forget exist when they're not out. And if I can forget parts of me, then how much further a step is it to believe that all of me can be easily forgotten?

I feel especially invisible lately. Kind of in a grey fog, but the moments of clarity are worse, so I retreat again, just to avoid the reality of... not life, since if I could make it through the thorny maze to where my actual life is, it would be good. I think to avoid the reality of what it takes to get from the grey fog to real life.

I need to do something, but for the life of me, I can't seem to figure that out. And I feel like, if I could figure out what to do, and how to do it, everything would be manageable, but since I can't even figure out where to start, it's all incredibly impossible.