Mental Health

How My Disorder Is Actually An Amazing Superpower

Besides, don’t the best superhero stories start with trauma?

My psychiatrist diagnosed me with a dissociative disorder. There were three dissociative disorders on the menu, and the one dished out to me was served with two tasty entrees. The first was depersonalization, which included detachment experiences from one’s mind, self, or body. The second was derealization, which was a detachment from the real world.

My first thought was, “This is not a disorder. It’s my superpower!”

My superpower was as much a part of my childhood as peanut butter and jelly. I regularly called on the power to help me fly over the trauma that my young body endured during beatings and sexual abuse.

Depersonalization to the rescue! Up, up, and away!

I was sixteen the first time I realized that other people had this superpower. It happened while I munched on popcorn in a dark theater watching a movie called Forest Gump. Forest was the movie's hero, but it was his best friend, Jenny, who caught my attention. In an especially compelling scene, Forest and Jenny ran into a cornfield to hide. The children knelt side-by-side while Jenny’s drunken father yelled loudly in the background. Her hands clasped in earnest prayer. Jenny began to pray, “Dear God, make me a bird so that I can fly far- far, far away from here.”

My date, who snacked on popcorn beside me, thought that Jenny was simply a little girl who believed God could make her fly. I knew better, though. Her conduit may have been prayer, but eyes closed and mind flying far away, Jenny called on her superpower to save her.

When abuse is a regular part of your life, disassociating becomes as natural as breathing—the lines between reality and fantasy blur. The ability to rise above my body seemed to take me to another place. In this place, my imagination flourished. I created a fantasy world that was as tangible to me as the real world. More often than not, my fantasy world superseded reality.

To convey what this experience was like for me, I wrote a short semi-biographical story called The Secret of Moon Gems. In the story, a girl experienced a magical mystery that overlapped and mirrored her real-life experiences. In the end, it was clear that the girl had been sexually assaulted, but I left the reader to decide which of her experiences were real and which were imagined.

This sense of ambiguity between the real world and fantasy accurately reflected my experiences with derealization.

While flying above my body, any physical pain I felt was so far away that I hardly noticed it if at all.

This superpower came to my rescue when I was giving birth to my second son. I needed to have a C-section, and I chose to have an epidural. I’d had one two years before when my first baby was born. It was uncomfortable but not painful since it numbed and paralyzed me from the waist down. Being awake to hear my baby’s first cry was especially precious to me because he died six short hours later.

I was determined to be awake during my second son’s birth, as well. However, the epidural was given to me at the last minute and very sloppily. I could still move my legs and felt the pinpricks in them. They tried again with the same result. The third time, I knew there was no time to do another epidural. Instead of reacting to the pain, I concentrated on a light in the ceiling and lifted myself toward it.

Thanks to my superpower, I was able to keep from reacting during the procedure. When my healthy son was brought to me, I floated back to earth and kissed his little feet.

Of course, there were downsides to my superpower as well. My Kryptonite was the choice between hurtling back to reality or staying in flight. Choosing to crash back to earth was no mean feat. All of the pain, my body and mind endured hit me hard and fast. However, staying in flight leads to more abuse because I angered everyone around me.

In my childhood, I often chose not to come back until I was forced into it. Even then, I tended to keep only one foot in reality. It’s similar to thinking of something else while someone is talking to you. You can hear their voice well enough to nod at the right moments, but all the words are jumbled into white noise. I lived a lot of my childhood in that state. It got me into trouble at school and home. I was forgetful and slow to react to directions. I was a girl with her head in the clouds.

Today I have to hang onto reality with both fists when I’m unexpectedly triggered to stay grounded. However, I also use my dissociative disorder to help me function in my day-to-day existence when reliving traumatic events.

One thing is clear, whether it is a disorder or a superpower, depersonalization-derealization disorder helped me survive long enough that I can write about it today.

It’s hard for me to think of it as a disorder when it helps me fly.

Do you know who else can fly? Supergirl, that’s who!

I make light of depersonalization-derealization disorder (otherwise known as the longest name in the world!). Though I really see it as a superpower, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t cause real hardship.

I also have PTSD, which comes with all kinds of depression and anxiety. I can be triggered easily at times, and it can take me quite a while to come back to earth. I have an amazing support system of family and friends who help keep me grounded.

It’s not fun to love someone like me because sometimes, I separate from my emotions. It’s because of these reasons that I seek treatment, trying to keep that superpower super, y’all!

Below is some info about the depersonalization-derealization disorder (Whew! That name never gets easier to say!) from The Mayo Clinic.

Depersonalization symptoms

Symptoms of depersonalization include:

• Feelings that you’re an outside observer of your thoughts, feelings, your body or parts of your body — for example, as if you were floating in the air yourself
• Feeling like a robot or that you’re not in control of your speech or movements.
• The sense that your body, legs, or arms appear distorted, enlarged, or shrunken, or that your head is wrapped in cotton
• Emotional or physical numbness of your senses or responses to the world around you
• A sense that your memories lack emotion and that they may or may not be your own memories

Derealization symptoms

Symptoms of derealization include:

• Feelings of being alienated from or unfamiliar with your surroundings — for example, like you’re living in a movie or a dream.
• Feeling emotionally disconnected from people you care about as if a glass wall separating you.
• Surroundings that appear distorted, blurry, colorless, two-dimensional or artificial, or a heightened awareness and clarity of your surroundings
• Distortions in the perception of time, such as recent events feeling like distant past
• Distortions of distance and the size and shape of objects

Episodes of the depersonalization-derealization disorder may last hours, days, weeks, or even months at a time. In some people, these episodes turn into ongoing feelings of depersonalization or derealization that may periodically get better or worse.

When to see a doctor

Passing feelings of depersonalization or derealization are common and aren’t necessarily a cause for concern. But ongoing or severe feelings of detachment and distortion of your surroundings can be a sign of depersonalization-derealization disorder or another physical or mental health disorder.

See a doctor if you have feelings of depersonalization or derealization that:

• Are disturbing you, or are emotionally disruptive
• Don’t go away or keep coming back.
• Interfere with work, relationships, or daily activities