This poem is inspired by my blog post ‘When You Don’t Feel Like Yourself: Exploring the Mystery of Self-Dissociation Poem’. You can find the full post here:
There was a time I lived beside my life—
a ghost in daylight, thin with quiet strife.
The mirror stared, but I didn’t know the face;
my hands moved on, but never felt the same.
I smiled on cue, I spoke, I played my part,
yet somewhere deeper, I drifted apart.
The world was close, but I was miles away,
unanchored in my chest of clay.
It came from weight too heavy to be shown—
the body learned to leave its own.
When pain ran deep and truth too loud,
I built a silence, soft and proud.
Disconnection was not choice or sin—
it was my own way of staying safe within.
to bear what heart could not contain—
a mercy made from hidden pain.
But mercy, too, can turn to stone,
and safety kept can feel alone.
So one small day, I dared to breathe,
to call my scattered self to leave
the exile I had once designed—
and walk back home to what’s inside.
Through breath, through sound, through steady ground,
through pages inked with what I found,
through rain on skin, through songs, through art,
I reassembled every part.
And slowly—slowly—I could feel
the world grow warm, the edges real.
Not all at once, but through the years,
I stitched myself from threads of tears.
Now presence hums beneath my skin,
a life that’s earned, not wandered in.
The mirror holds a gaze I know—
a soul returned, a heart aglow.
I am not broken, nor remade—
just fully here, no longer frayed.
What left in fear now stands in grace—
alive, awake, in my own place.
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