Enjoy this personal narrative below, which was written by Zinnia Magill from the Class of 2024 for her Creative Writing class.
You’re looking at a picture someone drew. It’s a person sitting in a chair. They’re
sitting inside they’re own mind and looking out of a little peephole through their own
eyes. Sitting forward with they’re elbows on their knees and their fists under their chin,
they look focused and interested in what they’re watching. They’re watching their own
life. This is dissociation.
Almost everyone dissociates from time to time. If, like me, you’ve scrolled
through Tik Tok for hours not realizing the amount of time that has passed, you
dissociated. If you’ve ever been reading and when you look back at how much you’ve
read, you don’t remember turning that many pages; that’s dissociating too. But just
because you’ve done these things doesn’t necessarily mean you have a dissociative
disorder.
Let’s go back to the person in the painting. His name is Jace. He has a pretty
“normal” life. He’s a sophomore in high school and he’s slightly above average in his
grades. Some or most would agree he would be much smarter if he dedicated more time
to it. But the truth is he simply doesn’t have the time. He keeps himself busy, swamped
might even be a better word. He’s planning on taking three honors classes along with
playing varsity soccer and he’s planning to join as many clubs as he’s interested in. Along
with this he plays soccer out of school to keep his skills sharp. Now I know what you
might be thinking; “What does this have to do with dissociation?” Well If someone
were to ever ask Jace why he does so many things he might simply say “I like being
busy”. And usually the conversation ends there. But if you were to ask why he likes being
swamped, Jace’s mind would begin to race. “I hate being home” would be the first
thought in his head. “I can’t NOT do something” would be his response.
The truth is, if Jace stopped filling his life with so many time-consuming
activities, he simply would do nothing. He would float from day to day being physically
present but not quite mentally there. He would hear (but not necessarily listen to) his
teacher’s lectures, write notes he wouldn’t be able to understand later or even be able to
remember writing them at all. If he didn’t have practice or clubs he’d force himself to stay
after school to talk to his friends. He would say generic things like, “I have so much
homework” or “Mrs. John is really being a pain in the ass” but he wouldn’t truly feel any
of the emotions that should come with these statements. He wouldn’t feel stressed or
annoyed. His missing assignments and plummeting grades wouldn’t cause any sort of
alarm. When he got home, Jace would lay in bed, and take a nap until he needed to eat dinner. He’d sit at the table and not talk to his parents unless they specifically addressed
him. His answers came out like a very organized word generator. Perfectly formed
responses that seemed to satisfy all their concerns. “We had lunch outside today cause it
was nice Nick and I played soccer since we had time”
After this performance he would stare at himself in the mirror for way too long.
Leaning forward with his hands on his cheeks distorting them this way and that hoping
just hoping that something in the mirror would strike as familiar. Did his eyes always
swoop down like that? Was his hair always this dark and curly? Then feeling nothing but
frustration for feeling like a stranger in his own life, he would get back into bed and go to
sleep. Only to wake up in this so-called life that feels like a dream.
Jace is me. I am Jace. But luckily I’m swamped.