Moments that I understand as memories, feel like figments of my imagination.
One of the side effects of a week of nonstop dissociation. I’m only ever present, existing in any moment, never participating, not really. I choose what this vessel says and does, but I’m no longer ‘one’ with it. How can the mind and body feel so distant, yet cooperate so smoothly since the first moments of consciousness in the world?
Heather has had to deal with certain things that post-panic attack anxiety brings. The occasional psychosomatic symptom, the paranoia. It’s mild thank goodness, but still an inconvenience… It just doesn’t feel right. These things happen to me. It just feels incorrect when I remember that she went through a panic attack. Like the fact doesn’t fit.
I drove a car for the first time in my life today – in the parking lot of the church my brother teaches at. The dissociation felt so severe that for a few moments I couldn’t shake the intensity by focusing like I typically can.
Dissociation is created by the mind trying to distant the ‘host’ from the present situation. I’ve been distant for nearly eight days now, so I find the need to channel my inner Freudian in contemplating: what on earth is my own mind trying to protect me from? The anxiety? The sense of impending doom every night? For Pete’s sake, I’m alright! I can handle it, have been handling it for a long time now, I don’t need the inconvenience of my own perception of my involvement in my existence being distorted to pull me away from the present and alter the clarity of my memories!
I am angry at the moment, frustrated. For a week now I can’t stop thinking about the world, about how big it is, about how little and insignificant I am. It isn’t a hurtful fact, it’s just a fact. Trying to change the world with a word is like tossing a piece of miniscule pebble against the heel of an elephant. I realize there is a world outside of me, I see people in their cars and in their gardens and walking around the stores and streets and I realize that they are as focused on their lives as anyone else. We’re all wrapped up in our own tiny worlds and situations that seem so massive and life-altering because we aren’t present in the minds of everyone else around us worrying about the exact same things! Bother, how tiny, tiny, tiny my problems are. But here they are. I think about the world’s hurdles, and how a woman walking along the road is thinking personal thoughts about her personal life because it’s her life. I’ve been so distant from my own self that I’ve been thinking about the self of everyone else. The present feelings and thoughts and moments of everyone else. What it might be like, to believe and wonder and create through their eyes. And it’s incredibly unpleasant when I can’t find my way back to my own mind, when I don’t feel involved with my own existence.
I have found things to be happy about, and I am happier. And honestly most moments it isn’t as dreadful and black as I paint it here – it’s just the accumulation of frustration and wasted effort that builds until I spill out the reality of the entire scenario here.
It’s past midnight now.
Alright, I’m just being a bit of a rambling loon at the moment, so I shall do what I have done only once before – and that is, disable the ability of my readers to comment. For the same reasons as before, I don’t want my blogging family to come across this here post and feel obligated to say something (you’ve all yet to realize that you’re much too extraordinary to worry about my little life troubles.)