I used to be able to make myself disappear at will. My body, of course, would still be sitting wherever I’d plonked it, but the rest of me – the important bits – would disappear. I wouldn’t say it was a nice feeling exactly. But it was a useful one.
I haven’t used it in a good long while. Not because I haven’t needed it.
Something inside me won’t let me use it any more.
And I know all the self-help types would fall all over themselves telling me how that’s ‘awesome’ and that I’m beginning to ‘take control’ and ‘know myself’ but that is a load of codswallop.
I think I’m just plain tired out.
Which means that there is no strength behind my lack of disappearance and that I no longer have that protection mechanism to draw on. I don’t really see this as A Good Thing.
The biggest advantage of Disappearance Act was the numbness it provides. ‘Can’t feel a thing’ was my mantra as metaphorical swords slashed through my innards and unwanted hands grabbed at me.
Now, I know full well that only really delays feelings, but at least they are somewhat weaker feelings courtesy of the delay.
Today is one of those days when I would either like to disappear completely or have the pain externalised.
I resolved this year that I would not will myself to disappear. But I can’t quite cope with fully feeling the feelings that are grabbing at me today. So I will visualise them instead as a compromise. This is what they are like:
They are just that side of cold. They have weight. They are slimy but also firm and have sharp edges. When they hit me, they leave a mark on my skin. They thud, they whack, they produce a dull ache and a harsh whipping snap.
I suddenly have an image of myself being slapped repeatedly with a large salmon. At least that made me laugh. And the scales left on my skin with each slap must twinkle slightly in the light.
1000 days 