Anxiety, Part 2: Disassociation

Anxiety Part Two: Disassociation

Oh s**t.

Thought, when I started these monologues, I would only have to worry about my own experience with anxiety/panic attacks and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), with its various ways that my body has reacted to traumatic experience, but I was wrong. Instead, I am finding out that I have been reacting, in other psychological ways, in dealing with the abuse; I suffered during my childhood years. Disassociating myself, from my immediate environment, as a copying mechanism, to the very extreme trauma I have been exposed to, while growing up, and other stressful moments, in my life.

For there is no single answer, which I can give you, to describe, how a bout of disassociation can feel like, except that it is displayed, upon a continuum, from mild detachment, like one experiences, daydreaming while driving, to non-pathological altered states of consciousness, which the person experiences a totally new reality, from the one, around them. All of my remembered episodes of disassociation, fit into the latter category of non-pathological altered state of consciousness. Am lucky, no one has gotten hurt, during any of these previous bouts, especially, during my third episode.

For many, in the Transcommunity, is not unusual to report that a family member or a close family friend has abused them. Often this knowledge is kept silent, until later on, if at all. Myself, I didn't start talking about the physical and emotional abuse that I suffered at my brother's hand, until my late thirties. Even then, there are some things that happened to me, by his hand, which I can't talk about, still. For some abusers, their anger is expressed through sexual, physical and emotional abuse of their victims. And by disassociating, we are trying to find a safe way, for our fragile minds to copy with the grievous injury inflicted upon us. By creating alternative realities, allowing us, to function, until we are able to handle the traumatic/stressful situation. Just like, explosive anger is another method, which some people use to protect themselves. Here are my limited experiences, involving disassociation.

My earliest memories of disassociation occurred; when I was fifteen, as my brother, physically and emotionally beat up, both my mom and I, during the summer of 1985. Not a proud moment that I like to share, with other people, but I need to release its power over me. For the summer of 1985, was one of extreme pain and sorrow, for my family, as my dad laid, in a hospital bed, recovering from his first of many heart attacks, before his death, in 1998. And my younger brother went totally berserk, attacking and beating up, both my mom and I, on the physical and verbal front, his rage fueled, by sugar and caffeine. Forever changing my relationships, with my mom and brother, the latter, whom I would later shun, as I told him, to his face, “he’s dead to me”, after decades of abuse, from him. More than six years, have since passed, since I told him.

As I lay, on the front stair’s landing, I experienced a sense of leaving my body (some would call this, astral projection) and looking down, from above, at the scene below, as an eerie sense of peace, filled me. Only lasting, a brief few seconds, but it felt like forever, to me. Only to be replaced by, total and abject panic, upon returning back to my body, after the painful stopping on the stair landing, after being pushed from behind, by my brother, down the front stairs. Never mind, the PTSD flashbacks that I would, later, experience, as I relived this painful moment, in my dreams, years afterwards, but more on that later on, when I talk about flashback experiences. I know, it was different time from now, but why didn’t mom call for help, to help her, to handle this monster, which I am related to, by genetics.

My next disassociation experience, which I can remember, occurred during my third year, at Carleton University, in Ottawa, Ontario, as I was writing out, a final essay for one of my courses, in April 1993. The usual Hell month, which found me, saddled with 6 essays, in a four week period, before the semester’s final exams, leaving my nerves, a frazzled and exhausted mess. Losing any track of time, among the dusty library books and reference sources, beyond the hunger pains and the changing light, outside of my rented room.

Like the previous time, I could feel myself, leaving my body, except this time, instead of a sense of peace; I was surrounded by a sea of white noise, that manifesting itself, before my senses, like you used to see, on a Television set, before cable became the dominant way to view it. As this was happening, my entire body felt a sense of numbness, of pins and needles, when your foot or hand falls asleep. And a major panic attack, consumed me, during the period that I experienced this bout of disassociation. Trying to move, but felt no sensation of movement, at all. Have to admit, this scared me, unlike any previous thing has since, until I started to experience PTSD flashbacks. For I didn’t know that this was one way, my body reacted to very stressful environments, until much later, in my life.

My third experience occurred, in November 2006, when I was, at work, operating a forklift, when the lead hand approached me. He was trying to tell me, something. But I could not hear anything that he was saying, and yet, saw his lips moving. Strangely, I could hear the other background noises; one would associate with an operating warehouse. Turning off my forklift, I asked him, to repeat himself. Barely, able to follow his demand, a second time, to use the forklift for a task, which he needed to do. And my panic levels were rising fast, and I didn’t know, what was happening to me, except it was wrong. Only later, when I started to mention these events, to a nurse, did I hear the psychological term, disassociation.

For the safety, of myself and others, I pulled myself, from the forklift and asked to leave, early. For I wasn’t, in any mental shape, to continue working with any heavy equipment, like a forklift. Looking back, I can’t remember if I told management, about my latest bout of disassociation, while at work. As my need to flee, grew with each passing second. Finding myself, on an earlier bus, home, avoiding the brutal rush hour traffic that particular bus route experiences. I can, only hope that I have experienced my last episode of disassociation, in my lifetime. Given, how it can dramatically alter one's ability to perceive what a disillusion is, and what is really real.