Note: none of this is an exaggeration.
Dissociation comes after getting a whack of emotional abuse so painful that it feels like any interaction with anyone ever again will kill me. Dissociation is like turning to iron so hard that I don't have the option to ever talk to anyone like I talked to that person ever again.
Or I get in the way of other people fighting and catch enough emotional and physical shrapnel that I have to dig a trench deep enough that no one will get another shot at me, and then I break any ladder that I could use to climb out, knowing that to poke my head over that rim would mean the end of me.
Or I learn the consequences for mistakes included getting beat so hard it felt like my body was being dismembered, so no more doing anything, ever, that's not sanctioned, even if it means losing at everything I try to do on my own for the rest of my life.
Or it's feeling pain so intense and focused that I store it in my body someplace where I hope I will never have to go again, then forget I stored it there even when I feel the muscles twitch and joints grind into each other, and I end up on meds just to get out of bed.
Dissociation comes after getting a whack of emotional abuse so painful that it feels like any interaction with anyone ever again will kill me. Dissociation is like turning to iron so hard that I don't have the option to ever talk to anyone like I talked to that person ever again.
Or I get in the way of other people fighting and catch enough emotional and physical shrapnel that I have to dig a trench deep enough that no one will get another shot at me, and then I break any ladder that I could use to climb out, knowing that to poke my head over that rim would mean the end of me.
Or I learn the consequences for mistakes included getting beat so hard it felt like my body was being dismembered, so no more doing anything, ever, that's not sanctioned, even if it means losing at everything I try to do on my own for the rest of my life.
Or it's feeling pain so intense and focused that I store it in my body someplace where I hope I will never have to go again, then forget I stored it there even when I feel the muscles twitch and joints grind into each other, and I end up on meds just to get out of bed.