Olga Trujillo J.D.
The Sum of My Parts
DID Starts with Dissociation
Dissociation is my superpower Sum
Dissociation runs along a wide continuum of experiences and symptoms. Most of us have lost track of time in a perfectly normal way. Some of us experience a moderate degree of symptoms but may not have a dissociative illness. On the other end of the spectrum are individuals with dissociative disorders who have developed separate personality states or identities within their mind. Severe symptoms are found mainly in people who have experienced intensely traumatic situations from which there was no physical escape, and their only option was to completely “go away” in their heads.
Dissociation can become a disorder when it begins during a person’s developmental years and becomes habitual and ingrained. I developed DID as many others have: from enduring a tragically violent childhood. When I was attacked, I instinctively dissociated. Because the experiences were too traumatic for me to deal with, I cognitively left my body and observed the incidents from outside myself. I watched from a distance as if the assaults were happening to someone else. Even while an attack was happening, I was filing the experience away into a mental room, as if it were a movie clip. Then I closed and locked the door.
At first I put whole incidents into one of these imaginary rooms. But as the attacks became more brutal and vicious, I could not bear to observe them even from a distance. I started separating the attacks into little pieces and putting their components into the imaginary rooms in my head: one room would hold only a smell, another would hold the look on my father’s face, and yet another would hold the loneliness and despair that overwhelmed me afterward. Each room would be shut and not opened again until I experienced a similar attack, pain, look, feeling or place that matched what was already in that room. As I grew older and the attacks became routine, I learned to dissociate earlier and earlier, and the rooms would automatically open to receive certain kinds of information.
Children most commonly use dissociation, as I did, as an extremely effective defense against acute physical and emotional pain – or even anxious anticipation of that pain. I often refer to this in my presentations as a superpower. It is considered a highly creative survival technique because it allows an individual enduring hopeless circumstances to preserve some areas of healthy functioning. While a person is dissociating, some information – particularly the circumstances surrounding a traumatic event – is not associated with other information as it normally would be. It is held in some peripheral awareness. In that way, it is kept at a distance from the child’s immediate awareness, ideally until the time when he or she has the strength or perspective to confront the experience.
If the abuse continues, over time dissociation can become habitual, reinforced and conditioned. This effective strategy can become a way of life: an automatic response to being “triggered”. In other words, the person automatically dissociates when a particular environmental cue or event is similar to a previous traumatic event. The person triggered feels threatened or anxious even if the situation doesn’t seem threatening to anyone else.
I know this firsthand. I was abused so severely and in such a prolonged way that I dissociated through most of my childhood years. When I learned about my disorder in my 30s, I began to realize that I had been dissociating through most of my life. I’m happy to say that nowadays I dissociate only if I am overwhelmed by fear or over stimulated.
The final curtain. winter is here, how long before it ends?
If life is a play, what happens during the third act? What’s it like to live knowing the final curtain is about to fall? Truly, in some cases, we can embrace the third act, whenever it arrives. Whether you’re looking at retirement, a late-life job change, an illness or old age— how do you live differently when you reach what’s likely to be your final act?
“Truman Capote is responsible for “Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act,” that, as far as I can determine, Tennessee Williams did not come up with his famous quote “Life is a fairly well-written play except for the third act,’”
I may repeat myself, I may forget you, but I am still me.
If you know anyone who has any form of dementia, please be patient, kind and try to understand.
What is dementia?