“I have value as a person even when I’m not giving. Giving doesn’t define or quantify my value.” – An affirmation I need to believe in.

Today, I had my psychiatrist appointment where we discussed the episodes that happened in the past month from our last visit. I wrote a little about an episode when my roommate/ex-boyfriend blatantly disrespected me, yelled at me, was so aggressive. I didn’t share the details, and I want to do it today to also cover an interesting topic of Fragmentation in Trauma.

That evening, I wanted to talk to Kevin about letting airflow into his room. He always keeps everything closed that there’s been a weird scent as soon as you enter the room. When I told that to him, he called me ridiculous and that I was out of my mind. I asked if he’d speak to him landlord or roommates that way, and he said “I’d freaking move out” and walked away.

I wanted to understand, maybe I came across as hostile. So I went back, asked him what his concerns were to keep the door open. He said “it’s my freaking room, I’ll do whatever I want.” I said that isn’t an answer to my question, he went “you are retarded, out of your mind, delirious for even thinking there’s something to be done here. You’re in my room, Get the heck out and leave me alone, will you remove yourself or do you need me to remove you?”. I was upset by then, I didn’t have to tolerate all this, I said “Remove me? Are you threatening me? I’ll call 911 the moment you lay hands on me” and walked away.

I went back to my room, and texted my friend. I kept having images of my mom treating me like I was garbage, my family treating me the same, all of the instances just replayed like a flash in my mind. I started to cry, ‘All my life, I was trying to build a future for myself where I’d be treated with respect. I now have a home, a safe space, a life and, here I am, still being treated the same in my own house’.

I sensed I was about to have an episode, so I did all my coping mechanisms: jump, walk, breathe, self soothe, music, everything! Apparently I was pacing in my room, Kevin opened the door and yelled, “what’s wrong with you, take your medication!” By then I was already dissociating. I asked “Who are you? What medication?”. He shook his head in disbelief and left keeping the door open. I was by now unsure where I was, what just happened or even who I was. I kept asking myself ‘what is my name?’ I kept coming up with my childhood name but even that I wasn’t able to admit.

‘Where am I?’ ‘In this room I don’t recognize and there’s a dog coming to me, I’m scared.’ There was a mirror in the back and I guess I turned and saw myself. What I saw didn’t align with who I was in the moment. I was supposed to see a 8 year old child and saw a 28 year old lady. It terrified me, ‘what happened to me? This is not my home, I’m scared. Where is home? Where’s my mom?’ Then I started walking out of the room, the house, on the street barefooted and without a jacket in the middle of the night. Nothing looked familiar, there was a shiny sign at a distance on the other side of the road, I kept walking towards it. Sat somewhere for a little bit, it was cold and scary.

Kevin comes aggressively to me, grabs my arm squeezes it hard, and gets me home and I sit scared on the stairs. He yells at me “Snap out of whatever the heck this is. You are a freaking inconvenience! I don’t have to deal with you, now sit there and don’t you move or make a sound”. I was starting to cry, but was able to start noticing that this place feels familiar. He yells “I have enough in my life without having to deal with your problems, My heart gets broken and I have to deal with you? Just Enough!”. I cried.

As I came back sitting there, I apologized for inconveniencing him and that I’m sorry his heart got broken. That he will be okay, etc., basically consoling him. I went to bed that night blaming myself for having an episode. ‘What an inconvenience I am, No one needs to go through this because of me’.

I learnt through my therapist that what happened that night was called fragmentation. It is a state where your emotions, identity, awareness, everything are in pieces. Here I was identifying as my 8 year old self even though inside I knew that didn’t feel right and something is wrong with what’s happening to me. It had happened to me before but this was the first time it blew up so much. All because my traumatized brain thought my 8 year old image was safer than my current circumstances.

It’s scary to think about and scarier to live through. But you know what’s sad about this whole thing? It wouldn’t have happened if he treated me like a human, it would’ve gotten better if I was held and made feel safe, It would’ve helped if I had someone who actually saw me a human being and treated me like one.

I’m suffering from a mental illness, but I’m not broken. I experience episodes, but they don’t define me. I get scared, but I don’t live in fear. I might be complicated, but I’m not an inconvenience. I deserve the same love, care, and respect that you do.