Feeling dissociated

Trigger warning: self-harm

I feel like I’ve talked about this time and time again on my blog, but, for me, talking about this never seems to get old. And my blog is the space I use to explore such thoughts in an unadulterated manner. So, here I am.

I used to self-harm as a teenager. I would get uncontrollable urges to do it, feel phantom pins and needles in my arms and legs, and would dissociate until I had done it. It’s been over 5 years, so maybe I am confusing my symptoms a little – but the point remains. I needed to self-harm. It was a coping mechanism. Worse, it turned into a sick addiction.

I stopped self-harming when I was 17. It was extremely difficult at first, but when I made up my mind that I would never do it again – things got a lot easier. I didn’t even feel the urge to do it anymore. For a while.

But I’ve begun to realise that I can try to run and hide from my past, but I can never escape it. The urge will always remain. At some molecular level, I will always feel dependent on harming myself to snap back into the real world. I could age 30 years, and I still expect to feel the urge.

I feel it right now. My left forearm is buzzing with energy. I can feel an odd sensation coursing through it. It’s a different sensation than what I experienced as a teenager, but it’s somehow more insidious. It’s rooted in me. And I can never get rid of it.

And I’ve been feeling a little dissociated these past few days. It’s as if my brain is in a hazy fog and things are merely happening to me without me actually being an active participant in my life. Really, I don’t know if this is dissociation, but it feels like it – at least some approximation of it. I don’t feel external to my body, but I haven’t necessarily been feeling a strong connection or ownership over my body lately either – is that how it’s supposed to be?

Nothing is really ‘wrong’ per se. Life has been good. I have been so lucky and privileged lately. Things are looking up. But I have also been so scared and stressed. My imposter syndrome has never been worse. I think my body uses detachment from everything as a coping mechanism against stress.

I used to feel this way quite a bit during my teenage years. I used to feel this way two years ago. Art and dance used to help with it. Friends didn’t, because I felt disconnected from them too. But one did. I think I met him at the perfect moment in my life. We were in the same space, exploring the same things, and valued the same knowledge at the time. He breathed life into me, I remember. He’s wonderful.

But anyways, I remember what I used to feel back then. Well, what I didn’t feel. I couldn’t completely feel my emotions. I couldn’t completely feel joy, sadness, or curiosity. It was as if there was a glass wall separating me from what I should feel. I could see it, I could imitate it, I could express it in a socially acceptable manner but I couldn’t feel it. Something was blocking me from experiencing these things. I barely felt human. Or, well, I did feel human – but I only felt that way because I could see what feeling human is like from across that glass wall.

I feel that way now. I think I have for a while, but I just didn’t realise it. I feel robotic, as if I’m simply going through the motions of everything I’m supposed to do. I feel a dull ache in my chest, or rather, a weight that doesn’t seem to be letting up. It’s really odd, because nothing is wrong. Life is good. Life is great, in fact. I’m doing good. But I don’t feel anything – at least I don’t feel things the way I think I’m supposed to. All I feel lately is that dull ache or stress. The joy, laughter, anger, frustration, confusion, curiosity, or sadness does not feel real. I know I’m ‘feeling’ those things only because I can see them through the glass wall, I think.

This is really weird. I don’t know, maybe I’m overreacting. Perhaps I’m not a reliable narrator of such experiences. I mean, what do I know what things are supposed to feel like?

Whatever this is, I don’t understand it.