The Dissociation Zone

(from http://dictionary.reference.com):

dissociation:

1. an act or instance of dissociating…. (not very helpful, in my opinion) . . .

4.Psychiatry . the splitting off of a group of mental processes from the main body of consciousness, as in amnesia or certain forms of hysteria.  (only slightly more helpful)
leads right back to “dissociation”.

As you can see, the ‘helpful’ definitions given above aren’t helpful – not very much.  We’ve been “zoning out” quite a bit here the past few days – which is one of the reasons we haven’t been doing much writing.  And then there’s the novel we’ve been thinking about – we have from Nov. 1 to Nov. 30 to get it done; 50,000 words, fiction, no less.  So then there’s that to be done: Mikie and Matthew are “writing a script” (meaning manuscript to some) – so we can ‘take off like a bullet’ when it comes time to get this thing done.

Then there’s the puzzling matter – that from the “missing person’s report” that we gave earlier sometime.  “Parts” of us are working at that sometimes . . . there is a weird sense of ‘vacuum’ or ‘something missing’ in my mind from that time (ages 10-13) . . . so we’ll see where that one goes . . .

But zoning out – that has been the main problem for the last few days.  It makes it hard to hold a coherent ‘chain of thought’ for sometime or get something meaningful done.  It doesn’t help that it’s raining, since this means we can’t go outside – see the work we’ve been doing; what we’ve done – maybe putter around in the barn some, seeing what can be done . . .

We ‘laid in’ a 44 foot retaining wall yesterday . . . that is, we directed that it be done (while wielding a shovel and giving a hand; swinging a sledge sometimes) – running 3 “crews” on various jobs we had ‘out in the field’ (meaning our yard) – ranging from painting a barn (given to a cute teenage girl with a spicy attitude and a doting father) – her father and our son (helping ‘string’ that 44 foot wall of ours) – and our ‘two sons’ (or grandsons) – 8 and 11 respectively, replanting some bushes from the back yard to the front . . .

The wall was a steel wall – continuous, no seam – for our pond in the back yard – scavenged from a construction site where it had been thrown (it was destined for the trash – the landfill, as a matter of fact – when we found it) – decorated like a cement wall, and it is now going to serve as a retaining wall at the back of our pond.  The spillway blew out some years ago; we got the thing done in about 8 hours.  Hopefully now our pond will fill again, and it will be beautiful outside . . . hopefully we can now build our bridge to the far bank without worry about erosion collapsing the bank beneath our bridge . . . we’ll see.  This is one of those projects that takes a few years . . .

But we’ve been zoning . . .

Zoning means sorta flat, not able to ‘think’ in thoughts real well . . . in the ‘now’ but NOT in the ‘now’ – sorta somewhere inbetween.  It’s not a ‘good thing’ nor is a bad . . .

It’s flat and ‘gray’ emotionally speaking ‘inside’ . . . as though some have ‘gone to sleep’ (which they may have, as a matter of fact; certain ‘portions’ of me can go to ‘sleep’ sometimes, and when we get up in the morning, it’s only “one” – maybe ‘two’ – usually the soldier or Matthew or the M3 being . . .

zoning as we write this, too… hard to do; write and zone …

we can just sit here in the darkness staring “in the zone” . . . sometimes for an hour and a half or so if we aren’t careful . . . just sitting ‘in the zone’ – ‘things’ going on in the back of the mind that ‘we’ or ‘i’ am not consciously aware of … but am ‘hearing’ or ‘feeling’ … like a roiling roar in the back of our mind (picture in our head of a gray overcast sea with a breaker rolling in …. beautiful, toneless, and yet sad) …

This is what zoning is ‘all about’ – not ‘being there’; hard to focus on anything . . .

with that thought in mind (and gently fading, like a tolling bell) . . .

we into “the Zone” again . . .

gently dissociating . . .

and listening to the mumbling murmuring
of the voices way deep inside . . . (not knowing what they are say . . . but simply that they are there – discussing and murmuring something …)

And that’s the state of DID
today in this world.
(smiling . . . and fading out right here) ….

Advertisements

About jeffssong

JW is an adult childhood abuse survivor with DID*. He grew up in a violent family devoid of love and affection. He is a military brat and veteran. He no longer struggles with that past. In 1976 JW began writing "The Boy". It took 34 years to complete. It is currently on Kindle (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004T3IVKK ), or if you prefer hard copy, on Amazon ( http://www.amazon.com/Boy-J-W/dp/1461022681). JW resides somewhere in the deep South. He is disabled and living with family. Note: Please feel free to take what you need; all is free to all. With that in mind, keep it that way to others. Thank you. We have 3 Blogs - One for our younger days, 0-10 (The Little Shop of Horrors); one for our Teen Alter and his 'friends' (also alters) with a lot of poetry; and finally "my" own, the Song of Life (current events and things)
This entry was posted in DID and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Go Ahead. You were thinking . . . ?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s