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If you’d been in my head this weekend you would have run away screaming

…. and I believe I did exactly that with the screams being open-mouthed yet silent. I mentioned in a blog post from mid-December that I would return to talking about dissociation (among other things) and that was the intent with this post. I cannot. It is near, still partially swirling/screeching to be written, but locked in my fingers. I can only dance around the edges.

There were definite high points to the weekend – Saturday had some very good things. Today had meaningful connection *hugs K for her bravery* and an absolutely lovely Imbolg rite done in a completely different context than "the norm" which caught and captured the feeling of the Sabbat in warm and wonderful ways.

There were the other points. Friday and a god slot of Sunday to be specific. The lagging, dragging, fuck me points. We people of certain experiences toss around the word "broken" a lot. It is a good useful word not only because of its accuracy, but because it implies "fixable". What we don’t talk about are the parts that are "shattered", sometimes because we do not believe there exists such a thing in us and other times because "shattered" implies "not fixable".

A friend posted to one of my entries recently about a part of her that died in childhood. Not broken, not hiding, not dormant – dead. She knows this to be true because she’s tried to disprove it over and again – every time with the same result. Finally she accepted that part of her was dead. Accepting it didn’t make her feel better about it. Accepting it allowed her to move forward. Shattered. Dead. Not so different as neither is fixable. SuperGlue™ and resuscitation are futile efforts.

Some things never return to their former state. Others simply shift, fortified by the strength of eliminating it in this corner so it may grow stronger———->over here. Coping mechanisms on crack. "Dissociation! The Preventative Medicine! Simply leave your pain behind! $39.99 includes Shipping and Handling!" Oh wait. I’m sorry. No handling allowed.

And no questions allowed, either. At least not ones that require a quick answer. Because you can’t. Not you won’t. You can’t. You cannot access that part of your self quickly because you are not there with it. So later you decide "this

must be important, I must access it". So you drop down into it. And it sucks. Much more suckage than you remember from the last time you were stupid brave crazy enough to drop into it. Getting back out is harder and you regret the drop. Next time – next time you think you’ll just make up an answer to the questions. Had you remembered you would have done so already. Had you known that "normal" people would have the answer to the questions immediately available because "normal" is quick access to standard information, you could have just answered in whatever words popped out first. It is easier. It is safer. And it doesn’t hurt until later. And later is always better.

Dissociation – the gift that keeps on giving. And taking.

As bonus suckage, I’ve stopped sweating again. When one turns back, one goes full course, yes? Awe. Some.

I think I really need a "fuck me" tag. I suppose I could clean it up to a "FML" tag, but I’m not feeling that.

This entry was originally posted at http://pj.dreamwidth.org/282101.html. Please comment here or there there using your LJ ID or OpenID.

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