Of all the species known for headlessness, the cockroach is probably the most famous. Often found in the gross-out books lining the shelves of Scholastic book fairs and toppling out creepy-crawly listicles is the factoid that a common household cockroach can survive completely headless for up to two full weeks, only eventually succumbing to starvation. Although quoted so much so as to sound completely untrue, it is indeed a verifiable fact. Roaches, unlike humans, breathe primarily through the body, and a roach’s brain actually has no involvement in directing bloodflow or sustaining bodily functions. What often isn’t mentioned when this fact is brought up is that the head of the roach can also live on its own without the body. It is entirely possible for the head of a roach to continue squirming around aimlessly for a few hours, looking for its lost body.
I’m not sure how to describe dissociation to someone who’s never felt it before. I would call it an out-of-body experience, but not one that’s enlightening, horrifying or even particularly interesting. Things start to feel farther away, stretching just out of reach. There is a dull ache in the back of your head. The people around you start to seem a little less human, almost like they’ve been covered by a thin plastic sheen. Your head starts to float away from you like a balloon that’s lost its string. You can still do things, hold conversations, make meals and go about your day, but all under the quiet resignation of losing all emotional connection to this world. It’s possible to live in a state of complete dissociation, but not for very long. Eventually, just going through the motions isn’t enough. Cracks begin to show, and the lack of feeling becomes overwhelming. I can only speak for myself and my own experiences, but I start to feel like my own head is off somewhere else, squirming around, waiting for my body to wander back to it and plug itself back in.
How do you put the head back on the roach? How do you slip back into normality after spending so much time away from your own feelings? I wish I knew a real answer, a foolproof method of fixing this problem before it even begins to bubble up, but I only really have ideas. I think that the most natural response to dissociation is anxiety, total panic at the possibility of losing all feeling forever. While this is, in its own way, a solution, I don’t think it’s a very good one. Gaining back some feeling is welcome, but constant anxiety can be numbing in its own unique way. If my house was on fire, I wouldn’t be excited to find out that a massive flood had put it out.
The most common technique mentioned for dealing with dissociation is grounding, which is something that I have found some success with. Take steps to anchor yourself before your head completely runs away from you, to tether yourself to your emotions by forcing feeling. Taking note of what’s around you, what you can see and feel and smell and touch, forcing yourself to count every breath and take in the discomfort, you gradually start to come back to the present, with all its sights and sounds and annoyances and little joys.
Maybe after losing your head, the only thing you can do is retrace your steps and search every nook and cranny until you find yourself again.
Dennis Molnoski is a sophomore majoring in cinema.
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