Being dissociated is hard to describe to someone who doesn't have different identities inside. I don't always connect fully internally and my outside world can seem fuzzy to me. Feelings of derealization; as if I'm looking out through someone else's eyes. Places and objects seem farther away and the things that I do seem like I'm watching from a distance as if someone else is doing things for me. I'm seeing what I see but not fully experiencing things for myself. It's like looking in a room but from sitting on a shelf where I'm just not feeling fully alive. Depersonalization at times has a grip on me. As I connect with my internal landscape I have times of mindfulness and more wholeness but then out of the blue I feel disconnected from my emotions or only hear some of what the person talking is saying to me as the fog comes rolling in and I feel like I'm in a haze. It's like it's partly cloudy in my mind and then there's more of a disconnect, like a phone line that drops the call and it's time to reconnect. Let me put it this way so maybe you can understand. I don't always know that the...
outdoors is where I could go. house that I live in is my home. food in my refrigerator is for me.
name people call me is my name.
signature on documents is my own.
car that I get in is what I could drive.
things in my house is what I can use.
bed in my bedroom is where I sleep.
clothes that are in my closet are mine. things in the cupboard are even there. body I put clothes on is where I reside.
routines I follow are ones I established.
voice I hear speaking is coming from me.
pets in my home are something I care for.
handwriting in my journal is written by me.
schedule I'm following is the one I created.
dishes in the dishwasher are to be put away.
garden outside is something I could tend to.
hobbies others mention are activities I enjoy.
emotions I'm feeling belong to me currently.
memories being discussed happened to me.
skills people say I have are abilities I possess.
mail addressed to me is meant for me to open.
books on my shelves are ones I chose to read.
thoughts running through my head are my own.
groceries that I put in the cart will be what I eat.
reflection in the mirror is me looking back at me.
photos in my closet show moments from my life.
music that I'm playing is what I enjoy listening to
bank and financial information is mine to manage.
responsibilities I have are ones I agreed to take on.
messages in my inbox are conversations I'm part of.
people that I am friends with are people that I know.
memories I discussed in therapy are ones that I had.
people that I am friends with are people that I know.
goals and plans that are happening are ones I made.
birthday people are celebrating is marking my years.
art supplies in my craft room are something I can use.
documents in my filing cabinet contain my information. passwords and login information I use are ones I set up.
social media accounts in my name are mine to manage.
memories others share about me are experiences I've had.
medications in the medicine cabinet are prescribed for me.
family members calling me by familiar terms are related to me.
personal belongings I carry (wallet, keys, bag) are items I chose. educational or professional achievements in my history belong to me.
empty canvas leaning up against the wall is some art that I could paint. personal preferences others know about me (favorite foods, colors, activities) are really mine.
medical history being discussed is about my experience. appointments on my calendar are commitments I've made. As I have reclaimed all that I am and all that I have, I am slowly... associating ~ reconnecting
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