Hi HeraDelacour,

I have had exactly the type of dissociative episode you describe. I was diagnosed with PTSD due to childhood physical, mental, emotional, and sexual abuse.

Luckily, it doesn't happen as often as it used to, but it's no less disturbing. Mine also can last from minutes to days. I have no idea why that is, but I don't realize it happened until after it's over. Other symptoms I have, such as flashbacks, I can recognize and 'pull' myself out of it, but not with the dissociative episodes.

Sometimes I know what triggers it, and sometimes I don't. Once I found myself at work, wondering how I got there, three hours after my start time, and when I realized I had just come out of an episode, I ran to the bathroom to first check and see if I had 'gotten ready' and was relieved that I had put on make-up, fixed my hair, and put on my uniform. Then I went looking for my vehicle in the parking lot because I wasn't sure if I drove or walked ( it was only 6/10ths of a mile, so I walked on nice days) and finally found my van, parked where it wasn't supposed to be, and not having any memory of parking it there, much less driving it. To this day I have no idea what set it off and it spooks the hell out of me.

Recently - oh God this one is awful - my husband said something and according to him, I attacked him, trying to hit him. He managed to hold me off (he commented later he didn't think I was that strong). When I came out of it, I was putting on my workout clothes, still furious though I had no idea why, and went for a walk through the graveyard. That's not unusual, but I only walk in the graveyard during the day or at dusk. This was 3:30 in the morning! I have vague memories of yelling at God as I walked/stumbled along. I just wanted to join those around me because I was exhausted from all the hard work it takes to heal, and because every time I think I've just about got it licked, I do something 'bad' again and hurt those I love.

I know that a recent incident with my abuser (my mother) when I finally got up the courage to tell her she was still just as dangerous and psychotic as she's always been despite her efforts to convince me otherwise, has caused some regression. For what it's worth, I also told her I still loved her anyway. How sick is that?