Birthdays and deep painful isolation

[blueteddy]

Context: V is my former partner. We broke up on 15 September (a month ago). They have DID. Ever since the day we broke up, an alter have taken over their body.


I woke up today with my body heavy and achy, sore from being tossed around in the night. It wasn't even a proper sleep, just hours of restless turning as nightmares pulled me back into places I wish I could forget. I remember seeing my abusive dad in the dreams, along with my abusive family members, brutally abusing and neglecting and mocking me like usual, like a haunting reel of everyone who's ever made me feel small, unworthy or unwanted. I couldn't get away from them. Even when I opened my eyes, it felt like they were still looming, their words and actions sitting like weights on my chest.

The fan had somehow been angled away from me again as it always do. Because the fan, despite me buying it by my own money, had to be angled to my abusive mother and abusive third brother. It's such a small thing, but it makes the nights unbearable. I've gotten so used to waking up drenched in sweat, feeling like I've been battling the darkness all night. I can't even remember the last time I woke up feeling rested or comfortable. My head was throbbing this morning, my legs and back were stiff, and the room felt like a prison. I keep wondering if this is what every morning is going to feel like from now on—if I'll ever be free from this suffocating exhaustion.

When I checked my messages, there was one from Gray, V's alter. They are still fronting today, but it's also V's birthday. They're spending it with V's mom, which is good—I'm genuinely happy for them. I know V deserves that love and celebration. But still, it stings. I can't ignore that pang of jealousy and sadness gnawing at me because all it does is remind me of everything I've missed. I've spent my whole life watching people be celebrated on their birthdays, wishing I could have just one day where I felt seen and cared for without having to beg for it. And every year, that hope fades a little more.

My birthdays have always been lonely, marked by a lack of genuine care and celebration. I've yearned for someone to make me feel special, to celebrate my existence in a way that goes beyond simple birthday wishes. Growing up, I felt invisible, and even as an adult (who identify as a child), I often find myself in the same place—isolated and forgotten.

I remember how, on previous birthdays, I would wish for something simple: a cake, a gift, a celebration that acknowledges my life. Yet, the reality has always been a stark contrast to my dreams. Even when I achieved significant milestones like graduating from university, there was no celebration, no one to share in my joy.

Back on 2021, I spent my birthday alone. I remember sitting in a mall, surrounded by people who had someone by their side, and I felt like I was behind glass, watching a world I didn't belong to. I went out with this desperate wish that maybe, just maybe, I could create a moment of peace and happiness for myself. But all it did was make me feel more isolated. I was surrounded by people, yet more alone than ever. It's strange, how the smallest things can bring up memories that hurt so deeply. Even now, I can remember that mall and food court, the chatter around me, the ache in my chest.

And then last year, V was there, and I thought maybe, finally, I'd feel like I mattered on my birthday. We watched Hello Kitty and Friends, which should have been comforting. I wanted to be fully present and soak in the kindness of the moment, but my trauma was this silent shadow, constantly pulling me back, making me feel like I didn't deserve to enjoy even that small comfort. The memories of people who destroyed me, my ex-BPD friend, my friend group, someone who used to be close with me as bestfriend who ended up damaged and betrayed me, it was too much and i was in the verge of blowing up. V tried, and it was sweet of them, but even with them there, I felt like there was this glass wall between us. I don't know if they'll ever truly understand how much I needed that day to be special.

It's painful because I can see how badly I want to be cared for, yet it feels like I'm always the one doing the work, guiding people on how to support me. With V, I always had to explain my needs, show them how to care for me as if they couldn't see it on their own. I often found myself trying to hold everything together, reminding them of what I needed rather than being cared for. Dictating them the very words i need to hear, which shows how much my needs were unseen, or weren't truly understood. It's painful to realize that the very connection I sought often felt one-sided. I wanted to feel seen and cherished without having to plead for attention, but it never came.

It makes me feel exhausted and so incredibly lonely. I want to be someone's responsibility, i need to be cared for in ways that go beyond words, in ways that don't require constant instruction. I need someone who sees me, who just knows, without me having to exhaust myself trying to make them understand. And i don't know if that's ok to want, if i deserve that, if that is realistically possible and not too much, because everyone always make me feel like i am asking for the impossible.

With my birthday coming up next month, I feel this gnawing dread. It's like a storm cloud hanging over me, reminding me of all the birthdays that have come and gone, each one emptier than the last. I can't shake the feeling that it'll just be another day where I'm reminded of what I don't have. A part of me is terrified that I'll never know what it's like to be celebrated, truly celebrated, by someone who cares enough to make that day special for me. People say I'm being too sensitive or needy, that I should be happy with what I have, but i have NOTHING. I NEVER have ANYTHING. They told me to celebrate it alone and made it special in my own way. THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT I JUST NEED SOMEONE TO BE THERE. THEY NEVER UNDERSTAND WHAT IT IS LIKE TO TRULY BE ALONE AND DISCONNECTED. I feel like I'm asking for something that's out of reach because people and society make me feel that way.

As my own birthday approaches next month, I'm filled with dread and longing. I want to feel special, to be celebrated, but the memories of loneliness loom over me. I fear that if I were to disappear, no one would truly care. The ache of isolation cuts deep, and I often wonder if I'll ever find the person who will step in and nurture me the way I need.

I'm scared that I'll never be worthy of the love and attention I desire, that my dreams of connection are just that—dreams. I wish for someone who can see me for who I am, someone who understands my pain and my needs without me having to voice them. I want to sit back and let someone else carry the weight for a while, to be treated with the kindness and compassion I've been missing my whole life.

I just want to be celebrated for my existence, to matter to someone beyond words. I'm holding on to the hope that maybe, one day, I'll find that connection—someone who truly sees me, who values me, and who can help me heal from these unbearable pain, wound, agony, loneliness, isolation, neglect.

I keep holding onto this idea of a life where I don't have to explain myself anymore, where I don't have to fight to be seen. I want someone to see me in my pain and care for me without needing directions, without making me feel like a burden. I keep thinking back to my partnership with V and how different things could have been if they'd understood. But even that feels like a distant, faded hope now. It's painful to admit, but I don't know if they'll ever truly understand the way I need to be cared for.

You know what's really sad? It's that during my former partnership with V, I was trying so hard to be the partner that I want to have for myself. I was trying so hard to be the person that I would want to have for myself, which no one could ever give in to me up until this point. I was trying my hardest to be able to be the best partner possible for them. I was always trying to understand them, to see their pain, to make them feel safe and comfortable to tell me about their pain, to always try to take care of them, remind them all kinds of stuff I did for them. I was trying my hardest to be the kind of partner, person that I deeply need for myself that I never have for myself. And it's sad, it's really sad, because I wish I have me for myself, if you understand what I mean. I wish I have blueteddy for me, which is, it hurts. I mean, I don't know. Technically, people would say, oh, you could still be there for yourself, but no, it's different. I need this from someone else, not from myself.

Maybe one day, I'll find that person. Or maybe I'll keep living through birthdays and anniversaries, carrying this weight alone, hoping for a day that might never come. But I can't lie to myself—part of me is just so tired.

I'm scared that for the rest of my life, I'll always have to explain to people the depth of my pain—the unbearable madness, the isolation, and the brutal abuse I've gone through. I fear that I will constantly need to fight to make my voice heard, to articulate the brutality and suffering I carry within me. It feels like an endless cycle of trying to convey just how much I've endured, and it's exhausting to think that no one might ever truly grasp the enormity of it all without me laying it all out from A to Z every single time.

What's even more painful is the feeling that I am often only seen for the cheerful, sweet, outgoing person I project, rather than for the unbearable brokenness that lies beneath the surface. I wish people could see that I am not just the fun, magical child they perceive, but someone who has faced extreme abuse and immense agony. I long for others to recognize not only my strengths but also the depths of my struggles—the parts of me that scream for acknowledgment and understanding.

I wonder if anyone ever know, or notice, that i have been suicidal for the longest time ever.

The thought that I might have to keep explaining my experiences, over and over again, makes me feel even more isolated. It feels like I'm shouting into a void, where my words just echo back at me, leaving me feeling unheard and unseen. The only one who truly understands me and my pain is me, and that's both a comfort and a burden. I wish for someone to really see me, to care for me, and to hold me tightly when I need it most.

I find myself wondering if anything will ever change, if the caregiver I long for will ever come into my life, or if I will continue to suffer in this way forever. It's a terrifying thought, and I don't know what to do anymore. But even as I write this, I'm holding onto a fragile hope that one day, I won't have to feel so alone.

[Armee]

I hope that for you, too, Blue Teddy.

[blueteddy]

I hope that for you, too, Blue Teddy.

Thank you so much armee... 🤗