(Or: “Sorry, kid, my brain’s floating three feet to the left right now.”)
Some days, I’m Supermom(ish).
Other days, I’m just a sentient pile of laundry pretending to be a person.
And then there are the days I’m trying to parent through a fog so thick it feels like I’m watching my life on a 5-second delay. Do you ever do that? Your nodding along, it appears you are in agreement only to blurt out an answer to a rhetorical question from two topics ago and its just stares and crickets? No? just me?
That’s dissociation — and it’s not just zoning out. It’s a real and very common symptom of trauma, stress, and neurodivergence.
What Dissociation Actually Is
Dissociation is your brain’s way of going, “Nope. Too much. We’re going to detach for survival now.” Believe it or not I learned this when my heart stopped. I have ZERO recollection of at least a month on either side, and I hope I never get those memories back because they had to be scary for my brain to hide them like that.
Dissociation can feel like:
- You’re watching yourself from outside your body
- Time is warped or unreal
- The world looks… fake. Like how they depict it in movies with people in your face that look like characters from a dream
- Emotions are muted, or you’re totally numb
According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), dissociation can affect people with PTSD, anxiety, depression, ADHD, and bipolar disorder — basically, a Greatest Hits list of what I’m working with.
And yes, it can show up in chronic pain conditions too. Research in the Journal of Trauma & Dissociation (2020) found that people with fibromyalgia reported higher dissociation symptoms than control groups — likely because living in constant pain is its own form of trauma.
But What Does That Look Like as a Parent?
It looks like:
- Nodding at your teen’s story but realizing you didn’t process a word of it
- Looking at the kitchen sink and wondering how the dishes multiplied like gremlins
- Holding your kid’s hand while mentally floating somewhere in 2004
- Hearing “Mom?” for the third time before realizing you are Mom. Or your name, anything someone has to say three times before it registers.
And when your kid’s autistic and needs you fully present — or your brain’s ADHD and skittering like George in a glitter store — that’s a special brand of guilt.
What Helps Me Come Back
I’m still figuring it out. But here’s what works — sometimes:
- Name it: “I’m dissociating” sounds weird at first, but saying it out loud grounds me. It also helps my teen understand it’s not personal. It has helped countless times with hubby.
- Cold water or texture changes: Ice packs, textured putty, or touching something rough brings me back. Try keeping a wash cloth in the freezer.
- Mindless movement: Folding towels. Walking in circles. Tapping my fingers. Rhythm helps. Fidget spinners. Keep a pencil and paper and doodle. Anything mindless.
- Breathing and narration: “I’m sitting. My feet are on the floor. I can hear the fan.” It’s cheesy. It works. Its a variation of a tact professionals use, five things you can see, four things you can hear, etc.
If This Is You Too…
You’re not broken.
You’re not a bad parent.
You’re not failing because your brain protects you in weird, inconvenient ways.
You’re doing the best you can. And you’re still showing up. Even if it’s in pieces, even if you’re floating — you’re here.
That counts for something. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves and each other.
WannaBeNormal 