Tag Archives: dissociation

Somehow, I’ve become an annoying person

Posted on by

2

I am not sure how this happened, but somewhere along the way, I’ve become annoying. I’ve not yet assessed whether I’ve been this way the entirety of my life thus far, or if I became this way as a result of living such a solitary life for the last 5 years.

I always prided myself on my ability to read people, as well as my ability to assess when people have met their capacity with listening to me, or having me over as company. But, the news is in, people! I no longer have any idea when I cross the line into annoying, or when I’ve overstayed. How can I no longer know this, no longer possess the ability to know how much is too much?

It’s like the start of losing one’s faculties, or at least it seems that way. It feels that way because these are basics: knowing when to stop talking, when to leave, when to give someone silence.

Is this what happens to us when we spend a vast amount of time alone? Is this built into the price of mental illness?

The loneliness, and hunger for human connection has turned me into a person to avoid. The reality of the previous sentence is heavy on my heart and mind.

The thing I want more than anything in the world is beginning to look eternally out of my reach. All I’m looking for is sustained human connection. That is it, emphasis on the word sustained.

I used to know these things. I used to know when to end a conversation, when to leave, when to give a person silence.

How do I get these things back?

DID is leaking into my favorite coffee shop

Posted on by

4

According to Doc, I am in the midst of integration,and with that comes all sorts of weirdness, confusion and chaos.

Today I walked into my favorite coffee shop to get my trusty and reliable Zen and Now green tea, which is just green tea with mint and lemongrass. The owner of the shop is this sweet tall guy that talks me up every now and again. The shop is the size of a shoe box, and he is forever rearranging the place trying to find the right feng shui. It’s really kind of cute how he’s optimistic that he can find just the right layout with enough effort.

His latest configuration has it set up where the baking area is open so that anyone walking in can see the owner baking. It’s actually his best configuration yet. I hope he keeps it. I walked in, and saw him furiously mixing, and I asked him what he was making. When he answered me the world became fuzzy on me. As he was speaking to me I became aware that I was not hearing all of what he was saying. It was akin to a cell phone call that was breaking up. After he repeated what he was making I gathered that he was making “Kitchen Sink Oatmeal Cookies,”never knew that’s what he called them. But then he said something about coming me around to where he was baking, or perhaps he said people want to come around and see what he’s doing … Oh! I don’t know what he said because his words became broken up again, like the breaking up cell phone call except that it’s live and in person. Very weird. I finally just said I would see him later. I think I missed a critical part of the conversation because he had this confused look on his face. Arrrggh! It vexes me that my own internal chaos is leaking into my places of comfort.

I don’t know why I had trouble being fully present when people were speaking to me today. Thankfully, I didn’t have a lot of interaction with people at work today. At least my weirdness didn’t leak there.

The dark

Posted on by

12

You’re fumbling around in the dark, and you can’t find your way out of this place. This place that feels like it’s pulling you back, and keeping you from the rest of the world. No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the dark. You can’t wish it away, and you can’t work it away. It is there, like the air around you. There is no escape.

Your stomach asks for a real meal, but you are seemingly glued to the couch. You even made the effort and bought provisions for sweet potato soup: sweet potatoes, coconut milk, ginger, lime, and coriander. You grabbed fresh bread at the bakery, and, in a moment of planning for any scenario, you grabbed a container of ready-to-heat poblano corn chowder soup just in case you can’t make the sweet potato soup.

But, no, you walk in, and have no energy. You succumb to the couch, against your desire, but there you are. You want that soup and that bread. Alas, you bought some sweet and salty popcorn, and you manage to pull that out in order to eat something. Pathetically, it wasn’t hard since the shopping bag is right by the couch, the place it landed when you fell into the couch upon arrival home.

The phone rings and it’s Doc. He asks if you can make it to Monday. You just cry. He gives up his Sunday morning to see you tomorrow at 10 am in his office. He suggests a session of neurofeedback, and you agree. You don’t tell him that you were looking up some of the better psychiatric hospitals on the east coast, but, somehow, you know he knows that it’s not good.