How did I not know that disassociation was having two separate images that never touched each other?
That you can literally section off pieces or roles and visit each, just not have a group session.
I am the most surprised that I can see and feel them separated instead of in one chunk.
Which is why writing even to my mother had me so unsettled and split.
How fear and empowerment juggled to be felt, that I could literally feel both.
What an oxymoron to be afraid and empowered!
If you don’t bring both side together for a reunion you will always see them in a disassociated way, where their sins live separated from the one who clothed and fed you.
My mother dressed in high morals was the incapable of turning away from sin, in my mind.
My father, who worked hard to ensure we were clothed and fed, was incapable of hurting us, in my mind.
The dance that they shared openly in public didn’t match my experience, and if I spoke and pointed out the fact that nothing matched, the oxymoron would have risen into view.
Where the extreme opposites join and become one.
One view, one reality, one person.
Stripped of the separating eyes, a trick mirror that keeps both lives running smoothly, together but unseen.
Disassociating two sides of one life.
Running on separated tracks, two truths never meeting at one station of time.
Incredible to witness how the affects works inside.
Where there is almost two of me experiencing the world.
Where I am split down the middle, one eye on a hurtful reality and one eye on a vanilla one, not willing or able to stay on either side, I flop from side to side.
Staying disassociated always from one half.
These past 6 years have been to rejoin myself as one.
I M Perfect lady 