when you’re sick and going to die
call me up and I will cry.
that’s what I wrote in everyone’s yearbook. yessir, I still like it.
I feel like part of the present today, like I’ve emerged from a long murky tunnel (no that wasn’t some kind of birth canal reference, although, I know, with me it’s hard to tell).
I learned to detach rather than dissociate. and yes, I know what that really means, and yes, I’m copping to it. there are whole chunks of my childhood, and even early adulthood, that I don’t remember. but learning to DETACH instead, well, it’s like riding a bike. once you get how to do it, you’ve got it. you don’t go back to the trike. woooooo! no more trancing out when it gets too painfull! or not even noticing when I’m IN pain. yeah!
in case you don’t know what it means to dissociate, well, you know when you’re driving on the highway for a long time, and all of a sudden you realize you don’t remember the last several miles? that’s dissociation. like everything, in small amounts it’s normal.
once in college, my boyfriend of two years started berating me, and then broke up with me. I got hysterical and cried…then, something tweaked, and I just stopped crying, and floated away. I could hear him, and I could kind of feel my body, but I couldn’t talk. I really really couldn’t. after an hour or so, it just snapped back in. freaked him the hell out though, which at the time, didn’t bother me any.
so, now I’ve learned that when the pain’s coming my way, HELLO, I can just step to the side, or just put up the hand. fucking pain, why would I want that anyway?
