I lose time, I lose awareness, I feel like I’ve lost my mind. You’re fully aware but nothing feels real. Drug trip without any drugs. Sometimes, I’ll black out all together but look like I’m awake.
The fact of the matter is this: I’m still trying to accept this part of me, and have some bad habits.
I’d rather give an excuse than admit I’ve dissociated.
The biggest reason I don’t strait out say it was dissociation is it’s easier to get through life with many thinking I’m an asshole/space case than saying a word barely anyone understands, then try to explain myself. Repeatedly. It causes unnecessary stress on myself, and strain on closer relationships who which I’ve already tried explaining over 100 times.
Whoa, spaced there. My bad. Say that again?
I’m sorry, I got distracted. What did you say?
Yeah, I wasn’t listening. I’m an ass, I know.
I appreciate the few I’ve encountered in my life who notice and bring to my attention that my dissociative states are a bit longer than normal/happening more frequently. These same people ignore and don’t push me if I only happens once or twice and I use one of the lines above.
I don’t always tell my therapist/treatment team when it happens.
Ones who are trained in the issue catch when I’m starting to go, and bring me back. For the rest, it’s pretty much the same reason as above. Either they don’t train many to notice dissociative traits, or my brain has strengthened a skill I really don’t want. Something has triggered my brain to protect me during the session, and when I come to, the person is showing me the door.
I sometimes will bring it up a few sessions afterwards: sometimes it’s helpful, but others it’s not. Knowing I’m hesitant in bringing up anything to a therapist means I should reevaluate my treatment team/treatment regime.
I have a love/hate stance with my illness.
It seems this would be a miracle ability, who wouldn’t want to zone-out during a distressing even and appear as if they’re fully there? Well, that’s the love part. I know this disorder is protecting me from further damage by checking me out. It also creates these protective walls around me that help keep my guard up.
This comes with a price: it’s left me in dangerous situations that include assault. I’m now left with those scars, and we’re in year 10 of therapeutic intervention. It sucks when I’m having a moment of normality when a smell triggers me to lose time I’m trying to make up. I don’t have control of the on/off switch, and things I never though are triggers can ruin the rest of a day.