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Wish
I could describe
The emotional impact
Of my words
Upon all levels
Of myself.
As I write
About my abusive past.
But
I can't.
Placing myself
Behind a one way wall
Of disassociation
That blocks my response.
Thus
Allowing
My subconscious self
To express
Those repressed memories
From my childhood.
Without triggering
Those destructive flashbacks
That leave me
Physically and emotionally spent
Like a dead battery
For several days.
Barely
Able to move
From the bed
To take my meds
Go to the bathroom.
Or
Look after
Venus Star
And Squeak.
My faithful feline
Companions.
Will the day come
When I can feel
The emotional impact
Of my words
Without needing others
To tell me
So?
Or being
So strongly triggered
By these remembrances.
Wish
I knew.
Giving myself
A mental shrug
Of shoulders.
As
I wipe away
The tears
From my eyes.
Therisa © 2016
Author's note: Wish, I could say, my experience with disassociating, is limited, to writing, but it's not. My earliest remembered episode, occurred, during the summer of 1985, when I felt my "spirit" separate from my body, as I watched my brother, try to land upon me, after being pushed down the upstairs.
Must admit, the most embarrassing episode happened, while, shopping at a local supermarket. I couldn't remember, why I was, in a particular aisle, as I wandered aimlessly, for several minutes, as my anxiety, started to reach panic attack levels, before I clued in.
Therisa © 2016
Author's note: Wish, I could say, my experience with disassociating, is limited, to writing, but it's not. My earliest remembered episode, occurred, during the summer of 1985, when I felt my "spirit" separate from my body, as I watched my brother, try to land upon me, after being pushed down the upstairs.
Must admit, the most embarrassing episode happened, while, shopping at a local supermarket. I couldn't remember, why I was, in a particular aisle, as I wandered aimlessly, for several minutes, as my anxiety, started to reach panic attack levels, before I clued in.
