The Last Few Days (Dissociation)

I’ve been trying to write, but I can’t. I’ve been trying to type, but I can’t. I’ve been trying to speak, but I can’t. I’ve been trying to reach out, but I can’t. I’ve been trying to text, but I can’t. I’ve been trying to call, but I can’t. I’ve been trying to ask for help, but I can’t. I’ve been trying to meditate, but I can’t. I’ve been trying to pray, but I can’t. I’ve been trying to talk to you and others to explain, but I can’t.

I am so lost. I am so confused. I am so dazed. I am so numb.

I don’t know what I think. I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know who I am. I have lost Kate. I have lost time. I have lost space. I have lost hope. I have lost a battle.

I do not feel or look real. You do not feel or look real. This world does not feel or look real. Who am I? Who are you? What is life?

I am different. I am disconnected. I am isolated. I do not belong here. I am not here; I am elsewhere; somewhere far away. I have left and I don’t know when I will be back.

I am an angel, or so it feels. I am a ghost, or so it feels. I am dead, or so it feels. I am a soul and nothing else. I have a beating heart, but everything else in me has died.

Everything around me looks unreal, illusion-like, superficial, holographic.

What the fuck is going on?

I don’t know who I am anymore and I have nothing more to say; and if I did, I could not put it into words. So, silent I will stay, dissociated I will stay. This is the only way that I know how to survive and stay alive.

The Dilemma

Conferences. Workshops. Trainings. Events. Anything to do with CYC. I love them. I ab-so-lute-ly love them. I mean, this is my field – my joy, my love, my passion, my calling. And these are my people – my heroes, my inspirations, my friends, my family. I mean, in a world full of over seven billion people, these are the people I feel a sense of connection and belonging to. I mean, out of all the places in the world, this place feels like home.

But there’s one issue: as much as I love all of this, I fear all of it, too. The people. The strangers. The groups. The crowds. The socializing. The conversations. The questions. The looks. The lights. The noise. The environment. The stimuli. The triggers. The memories. The flashbacks. The emotions. The tears. The fears. The doubts. The comparisons. The anxiety. The frustration. The overwhelmingness.

And – despite feeling a sense of connection and belonging – a part of me cannot help but feel different than those around me, and I often feel lonely and isolated in social settings because of it.

Sometimes it’s all just too much, and I want and need to get away. Cry. Breathe. Meditate. Pray. Spend time with nature and the outdoors. Listen to music. Walk. Sit. Hang out with the Universe in silence.

There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

Sometimes I feel weak because of it, but I remind myself that there is nothing wrong with needing space.

But I often wonder in social moments like these: Do I shy away from experiences to create felt-safety and risk missing opportunities to connect? Or do I gather the strength and courage to face my fears by taking risks and stepping out of my comfort zone? And when do I take a step forward? When do I take a step back? When do I remain still? And how do I find a balance? How much is too much space?

And lastly, as I reflect back on my experience, I ask: Did growth and change occur?

That, I don’t know…

If you only knew…

If you only knew

The past

The present

The future

The demons in my head

The battle that I fight

Every fucking day

And every fucking night

Just to survive

Just to stay alive

Just to try to live

Maybe then you would understand

That I’m tired and I want to give up

That I’m hanging by a thread

That I’m wishing I was dead

That I’m barely hanging on

That I can’t stay strong


Something has happened inside

Something inside of me has died

And I just don’t

Feel like myself