What is Mine?

how my body has responded to setting a huge boundary:

My reflection is a stranger.

The world is a dream through my eyes.

I move my legs and I feel nothing.

Do they even belong to me?

I look in the mirror and someone is staring back at me.

I’m not sure that I know her.

I hear myself talking to familiar faces.

My voice doesn’t sound like mine.

I move my hands and they look smaller;

they look unfamiliar.

I worry I have to re-teach myself how to drive.

I hit the road without thinking about the motions.

I still am unsure how I got from point A to point B.

Even right now I am typing,

but these thoughts don’t feel like mine.

If none of this is me, I’m not sure who it is.

It has to be me, it couldn’t possibly be someone else.

I have experienced something similar before.

It scared me then, just as it is scaring me now.

I know I feel this way now, and it doesn’t mean I will feel this way forever.

I am well aware that this is my body trying to protect me.

I must remind myself of this when everything feels against me.

But I sit in the tub and ask myself when the switch will flip.

When will the light turn back on?

I made one decision.

I made one hard, impossible decision.

I do not regret it, but it hurts.

It even hurts when I feel nothing at all.

I didn’t expect my world to turn upside down.

I didn’t expect to lose myself in the process of finding myself.

When something is missing, it doesn’t mean it is gone.

I am in there somewhere.