An inescapable mindset
Posted: Tue Sep 17, 2019 4:28 pm
I'm living with my partner. We're lying here on either side of the couch, warm, safe, supportive. So, why am I unhappy?
As I lie here, I experience the same sort of fog that has ruled over my life for the past two years. I am in a constant state of dissociation. I am expected to be functioning at full capacity by everyone in my life, and continue to lose relationships because of it. I am afraid to go out and make friends, for the fear that everyone will know. I am completely confused. So, how did all of this happen?
I'm really not sure exactly why it happened. Of course, if we knew the exact cause for our mental maladies, we would have a much better idea of how to fix them. I do remember, however, the weekend it all started.
Away from home for the first time in my young adult life, I was living away at school in Boston. My parents were coming to visit for parents weekend, and they'd be arriving that night. It was a Friday, and their Airbnb was just right around the corner from my dorm. It was a fantastic building, with a rooftop patio, and a spiral staircase. I was amazed! They had left the key for me, so I could go wait for them in the Airbnb. As I walked in the space, I was struck by how beautiful it was. I lie on the couch and looked at my own reflection in the window above me, the night sky a stark black behind the glass. I had invited my emotionally detached boyfriend of the time to come over and spend time with me, but he refused. Lonely and waiting, I sat there.
When my parents arrived, they held their suitcases and my small saxophone case they had brought for me to be able to play while I was at school. It's my fault. I descend the large staircase into the foyer of the building, and I focus on my mother's new, round glasses and I notice a shift in my brain. I'm so excited to see them. "It is so surreal to see you here," I say, meaning it more than any of us can know at this point. I take some bags from them after a round of a few meaningful hugs, and we head up the stairs. We're whispering, because it's nighttime, as I tell them the history of the building. When we get inside the room, I relax and we assume the new strange interaction script of "dutiful daughter, working hard in school," and "wonderful parents who are making it all happen for her." I fall back on my own classic behavior, and offer them a little tour of the place since I know where everything is. I'm excited about the rooftop balcony, so I start to unlock the window.
On my way up the narrow, ~5ft spiral staircase to the roof, I hit the top of my head so hard, my hand shoots up to grasp it in response. I haven't hit my head that hard in...I can't remember how long. They ask if I'm okay, and I say yes. Never one to cause drama.
My dissociation would continue to rise throughout the weekend, feeling like my perception was getting further and further out of my head from that point on. I remember telling my mom "I feel pretty out of it, like something's off," when we started to eat in the cafeteria one day. She suggested maybe I lighten up on the caffeine, and see how I feel. I take her advice. Nothing changes. It continues to worsen.
I'm hospitalized, and they refuse to let me go. They find high levels of opioids in my blood, I'm guessing from Lemon Poppy seed muffins, of which I ate at least once a day from my new favorite coffee shop. After that traumatic night, I continue to have to pay off hundreds of dollars to the hospital for my ambulance ride.
It's been two years, or it will be this October 15th. I still don't know what's happening. I still don't know what's wrong with me.
I did sustain deep and consistent trauma as a child, all throughout my teen years and into my early twenties. I know this has something to do with it.
I just don't know what to do.
I've started therapy. My therapist says that we can fix it.
I'm hopeful, yet hopeless. I think about dying everyday. I feel like I can't escape this. I know there are people out there like me. I just don't know how to continue living like this in the meantime.
As I lie here, I experience the same sort of fog that has ruled over my life for the past two years. I am in a constant state of dissociation. I am expected to be functioning at full capacity by everyone in my life, and continue to lose relationships because of it. I am afraid to go out and make friends, for the fear that everyone will know. I am completely confused. So, how did all of this happen?
I'm really not sure exactly why it happened. Of course, if we knew the exact cause for our mental maladies, we would have a much better idea of how to fix them. I do remember, however, the weekend it all started.
Away from home for the first time in my young adult life, I was living away at school in Boston. My parents were coming to visit for parents weekend, and they'd be arriving that night. It was a Friday, and their Airbnb was just right around the corner from my dorm. It was a fantastic building, with a rooftop patio, and a spiral staircase. I was amazed! They had left the key for me, so I could go wait for them in the Airbnb. As I walked in the space, I was struck by how beautiful it was. I lie on the couch and looked at my own reflection in the window above me, the night sky a stark black behind the glass. I had invited my emotionally detached boyfriend of the time to come over and spend time with me, but he refused. Lonely and waiting, I sat there.
When my parents arrived, they held their suitcases and my small saxophone case they had brought for me to be able to play while I was at school. It's my fault. I descend the large staircase into the foyer of the building, and I focus on my mother's new, round glasses and I notice a shift in my brain. I'm so excited to see them. "It is so surreal to see you here," I say, meaning it more than any of us can know at this point. I take some bags from them after a round of a few meaningful hugs, and we head up the stairs. We're whispering, because it's nighttime, as I tell them the history of the building. When we get inside the room, I relax and we assume the new strange interaction script of "dutiful daughter, working hard in school," and "wonderful parents who are making it all happen for her." I fall back on my own classic behavior, and offer them a little tour of the place since I know where everything is. I'm excited about the rooftop balcony, so I start to unlock the window.
On my way up the narrow, ~5ft spiral staircase to the roof, I hit the top of my head so hard, my hand shoots up to grasp it in response. I haven't hit my head that hard in...I can't remember how long. They ask if I'm okay, and I say yes. Never one to cause drama.
My dissociation would continue to rise throughout the weekend, feeling like my perception was getting further and further out of my head from that point on. I remember telling my mom "I feel pretty out of it, like something's off," when we started to eat in the cafeteria one day. She suggested maybe I lighten up on the caffeine, and see how I feel. I take her advice. Nothing changes. It continues to worsen.
I'm hospitalized, and they refuse to let me go. They find high levels of opioids in my blood, I'm guessing from Lemon Poppy seed muffins, of which I ate at least once a day from my new favorite coffee shop. After that traumatic night, I continue to have to pay off hundreds of dollars to the hospital for my ambulance ride.
It's been two years, or it will be this October 15th. I still don't know what's happening. I still don't know what's wrong with me.
I did sustain deep and consistent trauma as a child, all throughout my teen years and into my early twenties. I know this has something to do with it.
I just don't know what to do.
I've started therapy. My therapist says that we can fix it.
I'm hopeful, yet hopeless. I think about dying everyday. I feel like I can't escape this. I know there are people out there like me. I just don't know how to continue living like this in the meantime.