Derealisation bites

If you, like me, spent a good part of the 90s serving under the relentless reign of teenage hormones, you’ll remember how (seemingly) every movie, TV series, piece of music* or even TV adverts romanticised a somewhat gloomy outlook on life. For outcasts such as myself, this new trend – with its underdogs, flawed main characters, tortured artists and plots, lyrics and harmonies that resonated – largely served as provider of a sense of belonging.

If you, again like me, were a slightly above average intense individual with an undiagnosed neurological glitch in the matrix with an added emotion intensity booster bonus, it may also have served as key to unlocking a new level of teen angst, with constant introspection and/or self-deprecation of some variety, inevitably leading to an expectation that reality does, indeed, bite.

Which – to be fair – it did, for the most part. Also, perhaps one might have gone head first, hyperfocus at the ready, way too hard into almost living the roles and lyrics that somehow had managed to give life meaning.

The arrival of the new millennium, ushering in the wave of bubblegum pop, crop tops, chunky highlights, reality TV and hideous, garish pastels and glittery makeup, firmly established the expectation as full-on fact; any future endeavour would be forever tainted by the realisation that every cloud has a ca-ca coloured lining. It bites, therefore it is.

Which would’ve been entirely fine, if something or someone had prepared us for the possibility of the opposite; something void of suckage. Then, perhaps, I would’ve been able to retain my grasp on reality when faced with the unfamiliar concept of good things. Welcome to the state of dissociation, a.k.a. the world or depersonalisation and derealisation, population: Schrödinger’s humanoid. You can read more about dissociative disorders on the NHS website by clicking on this sentence.

*To be clear, I still love those 90s films, shows and music – hell, some of them I appreciate even more than I did back then. This is not a dig at anyone or anything, merely a metaphysical quest.

In my humble opinion, taking such intense interest in something that you almost lose sight of where the fiction ends and you begin, is itself bordering on dissociative behaviour. I’m no doctor, so don’t take my word for it, of course. Regardless, if you clicked on the above link, you may have learned that dissociative disorders can stem from traumatic events. Now, to try and find something resembling a red herring here – or a ca-ca coloured one, in this case – I might argue that a change in your perceived reality can be quite traumatic to a person, whether your new reality is an improvement or not. What might add to the impact of the trauma, though, is when the individual is snapped back into its former reality and they realise the change has only been temporary.

We’re knee-deep in Neo’s Matrix now… Or, Alice’s Wonderland if you prefer, which is pretty much the same shite in different wrapping but with no Keanu (in my opinion, Keanu improves most things).

I digress, of course. What I mean is that these changes in one’s perception of reality might exacerbate the trauma and, in turn, the dissociative behaviour; not only does life feel as if it’s not real, but you might even doubt which reality is the real one.

Of course, the most likely scenario is that there is no one real reality; life is full of ups and downs. But, when you’ve made peace with the fact that nothing’s going to work in your favour – in fact, it’s so ingrained into your whole sense of being that you know this to be true for you – any and all occurrences of magical moments with silver-lined clouds framing stunning sunsets will feel like a vicious trick. Add to that black and white thinking clouding your mind, you might even feel as if the universe is out to get you.

I don’t have the answer. One might say the whole point of philosophy – according to Socrates, at least – is to bring forth thoughts and subjects that provoke and inspire dialogue and discussion, rather than serving up a shiny plate of musings, disguised as absolute truths.

Perhaps reality cannot be defined in absolute terms, seeing as most truths are subjective. Also, if you think you want the truth, you should read Sir Michael Palin‘s – sexiest man alive – fantastic The Truth.

There’s even a Reddit thread under VintageLadyBoners about the MP to support the fact, if you don’t believe me, but you’ll have to put that into your own browser if you want a peek at that one.

I shall see you next Tuesday. Until then, don’t wait for reality to bite you before you realise that your life is happening all around you while you’re trying to analyse it to death. For more thoughts on this, check out the Bad Religion tune below: