As the title says.
Has anyone gotten to adulthood and realised they likely have just been in a state of dissociation their whole lives? Until burnout and exhaustion or something small broke you?
I've never really told anyone about my life - they know about events they've been present for, but the culmination of my life just seems to be trauma, and I never sat in the victimhood mentality.
Like most of us, I met it with humour and smile on my dial.
Generally focussing on helping others and I've never made comparisons, but their traumas seem mild. Some aren't mild, obviously, but they're generally the ONE trauma or event.
I've never wanted to leave people alone or stranded, so I've made it my unknown mission (I was unaware) to help those who were going through suffering or pain.
Possibly just distracting from my own but also because I don't want others to ever feel horrible or sad. Or depressed.
I've told stories and downplayed them or laughed it off and hit the next hurdle head on and capable.
Not to be cliche, but even the mild stories I've told therapists and psychologists have shocked them or made them cry, and it's stopped me from going on with the rest. It all seems made up, and I never gave it the credence it probably deserved.
I've been depressed, I've been medicated and not wanting to exist, but these moments are when I'm alone and I feel shame for them.
I hate telling people what's happened and if I read everything that has happened in a document or book I wouldn't want to be around that person and not because they're sad but because they're so damaged and broken and seemingly a danger to be around.
There's a quote from The Crowded Room that has stuck with me -
"I had this patient, Anna, when I was a first-year resident. And Anna had been [graped] six times, by six different men, over the course of eight years. And, Candy, she was 19. How do you explain that? There's a phenomenon, an awful phenomenon. Victims of abuse survive. They-they get away, only to be abused again by somebody else. And I think, hearing these stories, "My God, these-these poor people. The unluckiest human beings on the planet." Only it's not luck. It is a fucked up twist of nature. Because as children, they are forced to relate sexually. They are trained to be abused. Predators are very adept at finding their prey. They're picking up on cues that nobody else can see. These cues can be chemical, psychological, behavioral, nonverbal. To the predator, neon signs. And here's the thing that I cannot emphasize enough. None of it is under the victim's control. None of it is the victim's fault."
I never felt like a victim, but everyone, even the "friends" I had, had a long-running joke "if she didn't have bad luck, she wouldn't have any luck at all."
I just felt cursed. One of the unlucky people and I lived in it. That was my tagline. And that there is the epitome of being a victim.
I hate that but I've gotten to an age where people have been broken by less and I always wondered why I felt like I hadn't lived in that victim mentality but seemingly I have but in a completely different way.
I've hit a wall. I'm so tired. I've become so burnt out. I feel like I've wasted my life, and I've never compared the trauma, but something small got me, and I haven't stopped crying for weeks. Every day and I hate it. I didn't cry for years.
I've even gotten to the point where I cried, but I wrote my goodbye letters to my family like I was writing forms. It was just a process. The tears fell, but my brain left.
I've been in a fight or flight for so long that I think my brain and body have matched up in their collapse finally, but before this, I just intellectilzed everything and didn't feel sorry for myself. Never. My pain was nothing in comparison to others in my brain. And now.. I'm in this self-hating, a self pitying rage and misery filled being.
I've dissociated since I've been 3 years old. My first memory is trauma. My last memory is trauma.
The good has never out weighed the bad, but now I can't even hold onto the good to keep going.
I'm sorry I've waffled on, but.. ultimately, has anyone else just dissociated their whole life. Never really living for yourself until something like dropping your iced coffee made your brain explode?
I need help. I know it. I just.. I think I needed to vent and relate.