Dissociation

Dissociation is a relatively new thing to me. This happens when I know I’m about to go through something that I cannot handle. The last time I remember seriously dissociating was during a sexual assault training when I couldn’t handle listening because I knew I would start going through flashbacks.

Today I was going through my notes for my drama class to prepare for my midterm, as I was going through I smiled at the little doodles that I remembered doing and the funny notes that I took about something the professor said or something a fellow student said. As I progressed through my notes, I noticed my handwriting got more sloppy and one page made absolutely no sense and then I came across a page that I didn’t even remember writing. I don’t mean I didn’t remember as in I had forgotten. I mean I didn’t remember as in the memory was not there. It scared me. The only time I have dissociated is when I actively did it to protect myself. I’ve never had my unconscious do it for me. My friend mentioned that maybe I shouldn’t look at this as a negative thing and look at it as my body giving me the rest I need but will not willingly give myself, thus my unconscious taking over and removing this memory from my mind. While this makes total sense, my biggest fear is that this is apart of something bigger than myself. Since my biological father has borderline personality disorder, I am worried that this is something I could have. BPD has been shown to be genetic in some cases, one of the symptoms is dissociation, and most of the time it does not manifest until a person’s late teens or early twenties. I’m trying to focus on everything that I need to do for school and work, but now this is lingering in the back of my head. It’s like a huge shadow that won’t stop following me. Below is what I wrote when I dissociated.

 

How do we ask for help? Do we simply talk about transgressions until someone finally understands? Do we silently “deal” with it on our own? Do we scream at the top of our lungs until someone finally says, “its ok, I hear you?” The problem is I can’t ask for help. I am m biggest enemy, self sabotaging until I’m so far gone you can’t help but notice. My insides would come crashing in on myself, bones cracking and puncturing my lungs. But you won’t notice that. Its not like I’ve been able to breathe anyway. I’ve been drowning in the sea of perfection that I created, thinking I was a mermaid when I was only human. Not accepted  by the ways of the sea, and unable to keep up with the perfection of the land.

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