Every Storm Runs Out of Rain

Hello, my name is Anita, sometimes it's Nita...sometimes it's Andie, sometimes it's Button. More than often it is Mom or Mommy. Even, then it's sometimes Anna. My husband still calls me Rios.


With all that being said, I have to admit there are many layers and faces to this face. Some time ago I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. Shortly after that I was hospitalized with Type 2-Diabetes (which I no longer have but, continue to fight). After I was hospitalized I was so traumatized that I never returned for mental health care, I somehow thought the stressors of bringing up trauma made me sick. In some aspects I was right, but really I just made excuses not to get care for fear I may never be the same. The fear made be believe I would sink  into a person that I no longer recognized and that my family would not recognize nor accept. Fast forward some years....and here I am battling that traumas that haunt my mind and heart with every breath I take. When little noises, scents, and sounds play pictures in my memory as if I was still actively living them. It's a struggle not to sink into one of the "stronger" or more "courageous" versions of myself. All I want is to just be the "me" I was meant to be. With every breath I try to find that person outside of the trauma, and I can say I have not found her. I do not know if she exists the way I want her to.

I will be starting therapy and other mental health care through the VA soon. Little by little I have been meeting with my social worker, who by the way is pretty awesome. Some of the questions leave me stumped because, I do not know how to answer them without breaking down. Then I go home and things resurface and I wonder if it's relevant to my process.  I want to stop being this walking human ball of emotions and be set free. I offer my pain and my process up in prayer for those people who can not get help, who are so lost and without support. As a Catholic, I feel that my suffering will lead to healing even if not my own.

I am working on my art again. This helps me process my thoughts and my emotions.  In my head I compose poems that help me heal.

Sharing this is pretty scary to me. There are already friends who seems to have distanced themselves from me because of my anxiety and PTSD. For the most part I like to think it is not on purpose, but just some sort of way of protecting themselves from the unknown. Right now I am praying that my diagnosis is incorrect and if it's true...that my storm will run out of rain gracefully.