I've never been able to distinguish psychogenic dissociation from unstable blood sugar or high histamine which rockets adrenaline.

I've never understood what dissociation is neurologically. What happens to brain, blood content, etc.

Neither have I understood whether dissociation is adrenaline shooting up to the opiate release place, "freeze state" or ancient parasympathetic state.

Here's my wildest experience. Second wildest maybe. I was the only middle class white woman in a ev shelter in a city along I-75. I stood out. The other women werent ap sure I was allowed to stay. I was totally miserable anyway, and scared to death, surfing alone at a table on the patio. A woman arrived from Detroit. She was talking fast as it got dark. She was telling how her boxer bear her. Telling became reliving. Everyone froze, in horror. We were watching her being beaten by a ghost. Her voice was still narrating, "his arms" but her body was flinching and being struck.

Eventoryone ceoze. Then I was on my feet walking over with my own voice in my head screaming in panic wbat are you doing? I didnt know. I.really was observi.g myself like a stranger.

I found myself kneeling crouched on one knee and one foot before her making steady eye contact and encoiraging her in a very solemn voice to make prayer hands and crack down with all she had on his clavivle. AI pulled aside my shirt to show her. Crack down hard. May I take your hands? Here. Like this. rCrack that bone and he cant lift his arm. Then, swing like you have a bat here, his shes will roll up and he looks real stupid...

I sort of came too, and thought oh shti what have I done? They will run me off before breakfast. O may as well pack. Detroit was quite amazed, but smiling and not being beaten and not frozen.

Everyone ae was still silent.

I started to slink off feeling stupid when some harsh voice asked If I could take her boxer , being mocking. I went straight back to that weird tate. "oh hell no, hed kick my ***! Hes still got his lega and his other arm.". I was back to Detroit solemn as a child, "dont stand and Box a man. You break his collar bone to disable his arm If you can and stun him. Stun and run! ".

They laughed. Under cover of laughter I hightailed it back to my table and concentrated o. Breathing normal and not glowing in the dark like we do. But someone tossed me a full pack of cigarettes. My dad had told me cigarette etiquette. From another direction came a lighter. I could have cried. I returned the cigarettes and lighter and was just wondrous that I was an OK person who could be accepted in spite of being a crazy. It was the start of my recovery. Recovery began with a mild smoke.

I keep talking about Jung and shadow work and "gold in the shadow". The dissociated part of me that I began to allow into consciousness that day was a very gentle teacher and a fighter. This was weeks before that moment I thought Id. have to control a police officer and his gun.

Ive been very dissociative. Im very self conscious. I have hate, hate, hated that moment of seeing people staring with mouths and eyes perfect os, me wondering, "what did I just do?". And then I remember. "oh sweet Jesus no, I explained the valorisation of capital?. Why? Why am i like this?"

Thank god im finally old. It takes the pressure off. I got to fifty like this. I survived. Can you?