perhaps
i’m not as dissociative as i have always/often concluded i am
perhaps
i’ve been in the moment this entire time
and it’s a coping mechanism
to convince myself
i’m not
like it’s a coping mechanism
to pretend you are over
love
when all we have is love
when all we are is love
i so appreciate my kip
for being there with me
as i state
the state of my mind
and emotions
and they comfort
or support
or advise
as i need/ask
our communication has always been
one of my favorite things about us
for there will always be
times of stress, it’s how
we tackle them together,
on the same team, that counts
i’ve been struggling
with ribs popping out of place
and muscle strain
and election anxiety
and generalized depression
and every time something feels
just a little too much for me
and i dissociate
and try to intellectualize
“why am i feeling this way?”
i just look around, and
there’s my answer.
i’ve been pondering
stories
as lives
lives as stories
and i haven’t come to any conclusions
yet
except that
apparently
this is my current way
to dissociate
experiences
i’ve experienced
have always felt
like i’ve observed them
but when did that change
from dissociation
to pure perception
?
it’s hard
to just life your life
when you look at everything
through the eyes of
an external narrator
when i just want to
have the experience of
surprise
say
or even sadness and grief,
my brain fills with the descriptors:
“their eyes widen in surprise”
“tears leak down their cheek, while they ponder
a long life well lived”
or even
“the pang of depression had lessened, but the grip was still tight
on their heart,
shoving it down
towards the depths of their insides
causing a pain
they didn’t even know
was possible”
do you see?
i’m frustrated with my own experience
because i’m constantly trying to describe it
for others
for my own narrative structure
to get the external markers just so
for the script/film adaptation, too
and i find myself unable to just experience
the experience.
perhaps that’s why i’m drawn to the two extremes
of hobbies-
the one that takes up every single ounce
of mental and physical awareness,
and the one where you do the same thing
over and over and over again
till it because just a background motion,
a memory of the muscles,
a pattern rather than an activity.
and maybe someday i’ll be able to feel things
experience life
without describing it
but for now…
i circus
and i embroider
and i write to try to find my medium
my in-between,
wherever it may be.
chasing that feeling
of being in the moment
when the moment is all
made up
a tale of an actor coming out of dissociation
a therapy appointment
a good ‘vamlumtimes’
and a cbd night’s sleep
and i’m feeling ever so slightly better today
than i was yesterday
morning
i’m still a little on
the stuck side
a little on
the slower side
a little on
the i don’t know what to write or if i’ll ever really want to write again
side
but
there is a whole day ahead of me
and instead of seeing it as a negative,
as an entire,
bleeding,
long
ass,
gooddamned
day,
i would like to see it as an opportunity;
not necessarily to get things accomplished
(but that would be nice if that happened)
but to get to do things
i want to do
(don’t know what that might end up being
but i’ll do it
!)
~~~
a therapist once told me
to listen to my body,
to let my desires direct my day
that would be great
if
i knew what my body was trying to say…
~~~
when i tell stories
for the first, second, third times
i am testing out wording,
making sure the way i tell the story
in the future
(the memorized-like-a-monologue version)
is the best one,
the most truthful,
the one that elicits the best response.
but sometimes,
when i tell stories that are more than stories,
explorations of trauma,
a tale of something that impacted me
hugely,
i tell it in such a way that,
in observing myself,
i can tell i’m telling it
in order to understand
how i feel about it.
(because, if nothing else, i sure know how to intellectualize)
…is that why i’m so disconnected from my body now?
because i spent so many years
either
starving it to thrive in that social climate
or feeling like my mind was too expansive
for a regular human body
(and do i still feel like that
if i dig down deep
and ask?)
oh holy shit.
i just asked my body
what it needed
(instead of simply looking at the water and coffee sitting next to me
and thinking:
well, i haven’t had any of this water yet,
i suppose i should make sure to start it
so i can drink the full water bottle
before 9 am)
and my body seemed…
so excited to be listened to
so relieved to not be forced into doing
whatever i thought it “should” be doing
that i very nearly teared up…
and that tells me
a lot.
(of what, i’m still not quite sure,
but it sure is
a
lot)
kipventures 