When you live with a dissociative disorder (DD) and psychosis, it can be hard to understand whether you actually want to be at a certain place, or with a certain person, or doing a certain thing. This “unknowing” is like a lack of instinct, or a lapse in higher functioning that happens when the brain is so overwhelmed that you’re essentially reduced to basic survival skills. Or at least, that’s how I experience the phenomenon.
Of course, everyone deals with lapses in clarity when it comes to whether or not they want to do certain tasks, be around certain people, make certain plans, etc. But the difference here is that neurotypical people get an opportunity to weigh the positives and negatives, while someone in a dissociative and/or psychotic state doesn’t necessarily have that luxury.
As someone with a serious mental illness, you literally may not know whether you want to be talking to someone or if you’re just doing so because of the mental state that you are in. It can be hard to distinguish “yes” from “no” when you’re in the fog.
For example, if I have a lot of phone calls to make, I might cognitively know that phone calls are an anxiety-inducing task for me, but my body reacts by dissociating further from what is happening. That way, I may feel like it is easier to make those phone calls than it would be if I were highly anxious (or paranoid) but of course, that doesn’t mean that I am actually able to make those calls. Whether or not I am able (or even want) to make the calls becomes ambiguous, since again I’m lost in the dissociation. If and when the cycle continues, it can loop its way into other areas of your life, including your relationships. This, of course, is dangerous territory.
Relationships work because there are two (or more) people consciously choosing to spend time around each other. But what happens when the relationship tips toward being one-sided, because one person is dissociating? The other person or people may try to make up for the lack, or perhaps they may not notice it at all. More often than not, the person with a dissociative disorder (DD) is the primary one who notices a change, or a lack, within themselves. There is most likely confusion and uncertainty between the parties. Gaps in memory, brain fog, issues differentiating the self from others, unstable identity, etc, make it difficult to carry on a continual relationship.
Relationships are (ideally) born on trust and mutual care for one another. When talking about someone who has been traumatized, though, relationships often take on another form. We look for people to rescue us, listen to us, validate us, maybe even take care of us. We might turn to the same people time and time again in hopes that they will give us what we need.
Additionally, we may have an instinct about a person but choose to ignore it out of convenience. These are all examples of how living with a DD can muddy intentions for positive and balanced relationships. When you need someone around to support you, when you’re in the open waters searching for a hand to hold on to, there is an immediate need that must be met. But things can get tricky when you’re looking for support and comfort from sources that may not be safe, or come with their own complications.
Not only does trauma affect our nervous systems, it also affects us on a fundamental functional level, by clouding our decision making processes. This is another way in which trauma and its symptomology can keep us from living the lives we want to lead, especially if it goes untreated.
