Tag Archives: dissociation

a miraculous thing worth mentioning

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11

This past Sunday for the first time as long as I can remember I got out of bed at a reasonable time. I was not super-glued to the bed with fog and dissociation the way I am on most Sundays.

I got out of bed, and I knew I wanted a kale smoothie with pineapple and mango. So many mornings I’ve wanted this, had the ingredients in the freezer, but then the world turned into a fog and all I could do eventually was extricate myself from the apartment in order to not lose any more time. But, this was not the case this past Sunday. I thought about the pineapple mango kale smoothie and how I had brand new freshly washed organic kale in my refrigerator. I focused on the fact that I wanted the cool, fruity, creamy and clean taste that comes from combining kale, pineapple, mango and banana in a smoothie.

I told myself, “Today you can do this. You want this. You want to have a smoothie at home for breakfast.” I turned on the tv to a show I had recorded: “NCIS Los Angeles” while I made my smoothie along with some wheat toast on the side. I felt myself start to float, but when I felt this start to happen I would look at the beautiful kale, and think to myself “if you leave the apartment you will not be able to have your favorite smoothie.”

And, let’s be frank, the incredible loud whir of a VitaMix blender will bring anyone dissociating back to present time. It’s like a jet fighter is taking off in your kitchen.

Much to my amazement, I had myself a kale smoothie with a side of wheat toast with local salted butter. It all felt right and homey. I actually watched two episodes of “NCIS Los Angeles.” Before I knew it I spent the entire Sunday at home doing homework, and cooking for myself. I did find that there are some dangers to staying home and eating. It is far too easy to polish off an entire box of Annie’s Organic Cheddar Bunnies Snack Crackers. Then there was the attempt to cook a package of turkey bacon for the week so that I could make sandwiches with the meat. That was a pipe dream! The turkey bacon did not last through Monday.

I deem this past Sunday a strangely significant milestone for me. I’ve no idea what was different about this past Sunday, but I’ll take it, along with a kale smoothie.

just a kids birthday party

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5

You are minding your own business typing on your laptop and spacing out. Then bam! What the hell is that? Your body instantly shakes. You want to hide, but there is no table high enough to get under as you only have a coffee table in front of you as you sit in your favorite cozy comfy chair at the tea shop. The guy next to you sees you shake and says, “It’s just a kids birthday party.” You feel a part of you get angry at him, and you can feel the hot gaze that you are giving him. He offers his hand to yours, but you’re too much in touch with this angry part of you to take his hand. Another kinder part of you wishes you had taken his hand. This nicer part of you knows that he was just stating a fact to you without judgement, but the other angry part of you still fights this understanding, and insists on being a weenie jerk with a wall of silence.

You feel stupid when you realize it’s just a balloon popping from the birthday party in the next room of the tea shop. A river of tears comes pouring out of your eyes, and there is no place to hide, no way to shield it from the people sitting around you knitting as the set up is a series of comfy chairs around a coffee table. Someone asks, “What happened, hon?” You can’t answer because you have not yet found your words. Your words are floating around you like bubbles you can’t catch. You reach for your words and they disintegrate before they come out of your mouth as articulated verbiage. The lady next to you says, “Did someone say something mean to you?” Then the guy beside you says, “Balloon popping from the birthday party startled her.” Thankfully, his explanation lessens their attention on you. Everyone mercifully goes back to their knitting.

Your mind is still amped up and jumbled like a slew of cords that can’t be untangled. And just like Adam Sandler’s character who fought PTSD in the movie, Reign Over Me, you put in your ear buds and turn up the volume as loud as you can take it. You need the jolt of music to hit all your senses so that you can try to get out of this cloak of fear that will not come off. Coincidentally, when you hit play “Shake It Off” is what you hear. That’s ok, it’s just the song you need to distract you because you do need to shake it off.

To the one who has no idea

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4

It’s 2 am, and I am wide awake. The start of this vacation has not been as restful and peaceful as I had hoped. Unfortunately, I think I know why. I like you, and you have no idea.

Not sure how much longer I can hear about your eharmony questions, or your questions about what to wear on your next date. Yes, part of me loves that you ask me, but another part of me does not like the fact that there is even a need for the conversation. Though it was amusing to get an anxious text from you with a picture of a couple of sets of your shoes asking for help. Even more amusing is that I was the inspiration behind this statement in your eharmony profile, “If you say that a food is the worst thing you’ve ever eaten, I will want to try it.” I think it’s crazy and funny that you put such a thing in your profile. And, yes, I maintain the particular diner on Broadway that I pointed out to you is among the worst. Or course, now you want to eat there. Why do I want to go there with you?

Nearly everyday you and I communicate with each other. Do you realize that when you seriously start dating someone our relationship cannot continue on the level that it is? I find it hard to believe that whomever you date would find it acceptable for you to have such a close friendship with me. You can call it fellowship, or whatever you want to label our relationship, but, mark my words, this will end as soon as you start seriously dating someone.

And with that, I cherish the early morning breakfasts with you at the diner. You are the only one for whom I would wake up early for a 7:30 a.m. breakfast on the weekend. I rather like that we practically have the place to ourselves at that early hour. I never like when life gets in the way, and we have to skip a weekend. Remember, these breakfasts with me will end when you find the one because she will expect that you will be dining with her, instead of me, and rightly so.

You spent Father’s day with me, always a hard day. Thank you for that.

I like that when I told you I have DID you said to me, “I only know what Hollywood has shown … or is it like Hollywood?” The sweet sincerity of the question made me laugh when you asked.

You’ve seen me as another alter, and you didn’t freak out or run away. In fact, you seemed to process it as not a big deal. Most importantly, you’ve remained my friend.

I like that we can laugh about my DID. While hiking you posed the possibility of going off the trails. I think you said this in jest, though it is hard to know with you. I put the kibosh on that idea, and said I had never done that. You turned to me, and with a sparkle in your eye, you said, “YOU can never say that.” I laughed right out loud. I never dreamt that there would be a day that I would laugh about my DID.

We don’t have a lot in common. In fact, we have quite a few differences. I like Kripalu as much as you like Vegas. You admittedly rarely read for pleasure, and you say you are not a “word person.”

But, I like who you are … the dramatic, kind, funny, loud person that you are through and through.

Though you cannot know how I feel about you. I do not want to face the prospect of not having you as a friend. Your friendship means too much to me. And so, I will continue to try to look unaffected when you talk about your latest date. I will glance at your hands, and try not to think about touching them. There’s a reason we have those awkward moments when it looks like I want to hug you, but don’t.