by Aetherias Moon
Iridi (she/they/he):
Hello, this post is a collection of entries from members of the Aetherias System. If you don’t know, I have Dissociative Identity Disorder, a disorder where I have multiple personalities. If you would like to learn more about it, you can here. Some of my system members are angry, sad. They may say some unpleasant things, but they are real and want to be genuine with you.
Desa (he/him):
We told you we have Dissociative Identity Disorder.
So I guess I can be messy now.
Hi, I’m Desa and I’m a mess. I’m spiraling because we aren’t hidden anymore. Isn’t that like the point of DID, to keep us safe, to keep people from being able to see our weakness? It’s meant to protect us. It’s a lot harder to protect yourself with illusion magic when everyone can see through it.
I’ve been really stressed lately. I’m not handling this whole being online thing very well. The only grace is that we still haven’t put a picture of ourselves up yet (it’s bound to happen).
I hate the way I hate myself. I hate that I have to mask my negativity behind Aether’s brand of happy kindness. Not that it’s disingenuous, they really are like that, but I’m not. I’m different. I’m unhappy. Life hasn’t treated me kindly and I remember that. I can’t pretend that everything is okay, because it’s not.
But if we have to be out about having DID, I will not mask anymore. I wish we never started posting online. I’m always opposite Esme, voting against sharing stories, against telling you anything. I feel unsafe. I enjoy being hidden. I miss the days we laid in bed and made up stories until the moon came out. Then we’d fall back asleep just to wake up and do it again. I miss being broken, because I still am.
“You’re not broken.”
I don’t want to be told that. Leave me be. I know we are stained glass, never being whole, rather than shattered glass, which once was a solid chunk. I know we are just trying to protect ourselves. That me remembering terrible things allows the other ones to function. I get it. But I feel broken. I want to mope.
I want to spiral. I want to lean into it. I don’t want to be healthy. I want to binge eat. I want to cry; I want to give up.
Oh, is that too far, Esme? Am I revealing too much? Is this too raw? Too real, for you? Am I destroying your carefully crafted brand?
Well, when you outed yourself as the Aetherias System, you ceased to bear the mask of Aether alone. Now our brand is messy, honest, vulnerable.
Isn’t that what you wanted?
It’s not that I want to be self destructive, it’s just that I don’t know any other way of being. I don’t know how to pull out of a spiral rather than lean into it. This is where Esme would give helpful advice as to stop spiraling. To be a good person, to help others. Well…here, I’ll let her get it off her chest.
Esme (she/they):
Take deep breaths, name objects with every color of the rainbow, smell something strong. Opposite action, do what you don’t want to do. If you want to sleep and give up, go on a walk instead. Learn what helps you ground and feel better and do that. For us, scents and temperature are the best things. We have scented lotion and an ice bottle that helps us ground.
Kira (he/they):
Today I can’t write. Scratch that, I can, but it’s painful. Maybe it’s because I’m sick, maybe I’m just not a part that’s good at writing. Who am I anyway? I wish I knew. Let’s try to figure it out. I can barely write…I’m anxious, I remember the dark times, I’m lucky enough to recall my grandmother. I remember him. So probably a trauma holder. Is it because my body hurts because I’m sick? I’m not really panicking, though. I think I’m masculine today, though I never really care about gender…Kira…I’m Kira.
Why is it so hard to figure things out? It shouldn’t be this hard to just exist. Gosh, this is getting personal again. It’s just I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve told everyone about DID now. I just want to be honest, but my honesty is messy. It can come off as “two faced.” I’ll say one thing and then another part will claim another.
How am I supposed to exist?
How am I supposed to be vulnerable without sharing too much?
How much information is too much?
I’m scared.
Esme (she/they):
I’m afraid I’m acting without regard to the other members of my system. I’m Esme and I’m an “apparently normal part” so I have few fears. I can get us into trouble because I feel like I can tackle anything, but other parts bear the burdens that I don’t feel. I want to collaborate with others because I think it would be a fun time, but maybe I shouldn’t be doing things that are likely to spark anxiety? But I want to…I wish that my system could communicate a bit better.
I’m right here -Kira
I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I just do things without thinking. Sometimes I think I have ADHD because I can’t focus. I don’t think it’s how it works. But I keep getting distracted. It bothers me. Before Substack I had fewer distractions so I would work on writing more consistently. Now I want to talk to people. Maybe I was lonely? I know ADHD doesn’t work like that. It just runs in my family…and I can’t focus. Sometimes you just want answers. I wish I had answers.
I’m too excited for my own good. I’m not afraid, I feel on top of the world. Are my meds not working?
Sometimes I like it when they don’t work.
Redacted:
I’m scared. I feel contaminated. I don’t want to interact with people; I don’t want to share my experiences. I want to burn down everything, delete every inch of ourselves off of the internet. I just want to hide again. But instead we keep doing stuff that puts us more at risk of getting hurt. It’s not bravery, it’s just stupid. We aren’t thinking. We’re breaking. It isn’t good.
Iridi (she/they/he):
I woke up at 3am and now I’m excitedly doing things. I normally don’t think too much, I just act…but I’ve been getting us into trouble and I’m going to try to not hurt the others. It’s just that life is so much fun. I just want to try out all the new opportunities I can. I want to make friends, see the world. I’ve been told that I’m too trusting. Maybe that is my flaw, but in a system where no one seems to be able to trust, isn’t that kind of superpower? Maybe I’m not so bad after all.
They don’t mean to make me out as the bad guy. I’m not the bad guy, it’s just I act without consulting everyone else, which isn’t fair. I realize that, but I like to pretend that I’m not a system, that it’s just me. Wouldn’t that be so much easier?
I know I shouldn’t think like that. I should love myself and my system, but that’s hard. I can love myself when I’m a figment of the light, shadow-play in the dark. Something incorporeal, not quite there. If I become too solid, my fragile love gets crushed under the weight of everything DID carries. I don’t want the trauma; I don’t want to learn about it; I don’t want it to exist.
I don’t have to remember it.
I know that’s not fair. I know it’s counterproductive…I know.
One day I’ll have to look into the darkness, but not today.
Desa (he/him):
Did I mention I think we split and now there is a part named Aether? We were trying to prevent that, but I think it happened. I’m not sure because I’m not even around that often. Somehow revealing our DID pushed me (Desa) forward.
Maybe it’s because once the mask comes down, I recklessly come forward. Maybe it’s a cry for help? I don’t know. When we did IOP (Intensive Outpatient Therapy), I was the one who revealed it to all the troubled souls going to therapy school. In there, it became too much to bear. Like how was I supposed to get therapy while having to mask as Emane (the old host) all the time?
I AM NOT HER.
For one, I’m a guy. I use he/him pronouns. Esme is she/they…the whole system is confused gender wise.
Why am I talking about gender, anyway?
I don’t really care.
Is this what people want to read? A troubled soul slowly losing their mind? But we aren’t the same. I’m cranky, I’m a little rude. I don’t want to get along with you, I just want to be me.
Why don’t you read our short stories? Read them more, they are good. Better than me rambling at you, anyway.
I get stressed about things hanging over my head. Esme loves writing groups and makes us go to a bunch of them. Well, I don’t want to go. I sure hope I switch out and don’t have to deal with it. I want nothing hanging over our head. I can’t handle it.
I can’t handle anything.
That’s a lie.
Somehow, I’m here.
I’m spiraling. Someone tell me how to live. Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. I want to stay like this even though it’s torture. I’m a mess. I should just disappear. Other parts can see the light of day. They’re better off without me.
Whoops, that got dark.
We love you Desa -Esme
Shut up.
You serve a purpose; you hold on to the pain that we can’t all carry -Esme
Shut up. I want to be sad. Leave me be.
Just be kind to yourself -Esme
No one wants to see this. No one wants to see me.
I’m spiraling.
Iridi (she/they/he):
Esme was supposed to wrap this up but I (Iridi) am out, so I’m going to book end this post. Sorry it’s a bit long, but we wanted to let everyone write out their thoughts. This is a bit different from our usual posts, a bit more raw. I hope it was at least engaging. Happy Writing.
-The Aetherias System
Thank you for reading this post. If you are curious about us explaining our Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) consider reading this post where I talk about it.
If you are curious about me exploring my DID in my short stories think about checking this short story where I explore splitting: The Ones Who Came Before
or
This short story where I explore grief through my disorder: Stained Glass Heart
Aetherias Moon 
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