#38 I Am So-Not-Here Right Now

I am so not here right now. Somewhere on a shelf, in the back of my mind, is the knowledge that I am dissociated.

I have that thousand-yard stare. (That’s when it seems like the sight from my two eyes travel parallel out to infinity without ever converging to land on anything or anyone.) All sounds are muffled and anyone who could be talking at me is just making unintelligible noise. If it feels like they are waiting for a response, I can manage to shake my head or mumble “I don’t know”. If it wasn’t a question, I guess that’s confusing but it isn’t about them.

It’s about me…
I don’t know where I have gone or what I am thinking or what I am feeling. I don’t have a clue about anything.
I am not in here.
I have had to leave my body. I no longer remember why.

Somewhere on that shelf in the back of my mind, is the suspicion that I am not depressed.
Even though I would like to curl up in a ball in the middle of a busy highway, I am not depressed.

I probably have been feeling too much for too long. There are some residual clues, like dust mites of the original scary feelings, they float around me. But nothing I can get a hold of, or want to, for that matter. No doubt whatever has been happening has overwhelmed my limited resources and the lights have had to be turned out.