Dear Melissa,
Sharing what I experienced in September is scary. Finding the piles of notes I wrote to myself while I was dissociative has been emotional to say the least. I have decided to share what I wrote during the week of the breakdown. I think sharing this will be more beneficial than harmful, however, this is the disclaimer that the content is difficult to read and could be triggering.
The American Psychiatric Association defines dissociation as, “Dissociative disorders involve problems with memory, identity, emotion, perception, behavior and sense of self. Dissociative symptoms can potentially disrupt every area of mental functioning.Examples of dissociative symptoms include the experience of detachment or feeling as if one is outside one’s body, and loss of memory or amnesia. Dissociative disorders are frequently associated with previous experience of trauma.
(https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/dissociative-disorders/what-are-dissociative-disorders)
What follows is an email that I wrote to myself. It has not been edited or changed in any way.
Sun, Sep 24, 11:31 AM
to me
The question that keeps popping up for me over and over is....is this really happening? Did I seriously have a mental breakdown? Why am I home? Why aren’t I at work? Why am I home sick, what hurts? When was the last time I considered a shower?
I have moments where my brain is trying hard to grasp what’s happening, such as right now. My face is scrunched, and my brow is furrowed because I can’t quite figure out how to step out of this god damn fog and step back into my normal life. I am so fucking confused.
Then I gently remind myself...oooooooooooooooooh that’s right. You spent a lot of time considering what life looks like without you in it. You allowed your brain the relief that came with the idea that dying is easier. Once you tell your brain that dying would be the simplest way to step away from all the chaos, you can feel your shoulders relax and you can feel a calm come across your brain that feels like an exhale. Relief that right now I don’t have to worry about when I will be ripped away from the people I love because if I make the choice of when I am going to die, then I have eliminated the questions. I have eliminated the mystery. Because when you face both scenarios...the planned or the unplanned.... man, the planned hurts so fucking much but it’s a teeny, tiny scootch less than the unplanned. Anyway, once you feel that relief, it’s easy to say who fucking cares about anything.
But you do care – you know that deep down somewhere, inside, you do care. You do want to get better – you don’t want this to be forever. You don’t' want the story to end right now. So, you beg to anyone who will listen…CAN YOU PLEASE HELP ME? CAN YOU HELP HOLD ON TO ME UNTIL THIS AWFUL PRESSURE GETS A LITTLE BETTER? CAN YOU PLEASE JUST REASSURE ME OVER AND OVER THAT MY TRUE SELF IS IN THERE? THAT MY REAL SELF IS JUST NAPPING TO RECHARGE? The person that wants to be alive and loved is in there. Please just keep reminding me of that. That’s what I need right now. Reassurance that this fog, this shell of a human isn’t as good as its going to get. I believe there is another side to this.... does that mean I survived? I did not take the physical steps to end my life, but I am comfortable with it. Does that mean I need a safety plan? Does that classify me as suicidal? Does that mean I’m more at risk than the average person who also struggles with questions of life and death?
How did I get here? I think I have been unraveling for a bit...almost a year.