anna, on integration

It is a sad thing, to lose a friend.

I am the kind of person who just absolutely hates when things come to an end. Finishing a book can throw me into a depression. The finale of a television series I've enjoyed for its duration can destroy my world. Even the last drag of a cigarette incites an almost unbearable discomfort (ok, this one probably has more to do with my addiction than the loss). The end of something can provoke in me indignation to rival a two year old's tantrum. 

If I am to be honest with myself, I fear integration- the point in which all of the multiples join together with the host to form one whole, fully decompartmentalized person. This, in part, is due to an apprehension to say goodbye to the people who have been more closely involved in my life than anyone else ever could. Such a concept, additionally, implies a level of stability I have never known. 

The more I learn about my personalities, and about myself, I can see that at some point we will have nothing further to say to each other. Survival is becoming less difficult for me now than it was in the past, and it will, eventually, be time to fully accept and embrace the different aspects of myself. Dissociation is for me, in many ways, very convenient. I am by nature an avoider, and a spectacular one at that. Integration includes changing deeply ingrained behaviors and cognitions. It means feeling things I perhaps have never fully felt, accepting a higher level of responsibility and control of my life, being accountable for every single thing I do and say. This is scary stuff.

The ultimate goal of integration is, truthfully, still far off; after all, I am still discovering fragments of myself. One day everything will be different. My relationship to myself, to the world, to people around me, these things will be more real, more fulfilling when I am no longer just half-formed people having half-formed thoughts.