Zombie Mode Engaged! Dissociation: When Life Feels Too Real

Jamaine Pearce
Sep 30
4 min read

The past few years, have been one hit after another. These last couple of months have been no exception. Sadly, beautiful Bailey, my 16-year-old cat died while I was away on holiday, secure in the arms of my dear cat sitter. A couple of weeks later, I lost my job. Then this week, I had to have my beautiful Chico put to sleep. This time with my children present. It was utterly brutal — and yet, I have never felt more proud of my kids. They were so brave and compassionate, holding and stroking him right until the end.

I somehow got through it. I even managed to bury the cats in the garden and still have the blisters to prove it. I kept going. Barely a tear shed, because resilience has become my armour.

But today, everything hit me at once. People came to view my house — the home I’m losing because I can’t afford to keep it without the support of my ex. That viewing tipped me over the edge. The tears finally came.

For me, crying is terrifying. As someone with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), sadness doesn’t just sting — it feels amplified by a hundred. The moment I cry, my brain starts catastrophising: all hope is gone, it will never get better. It doesn’t just feel like sadness; it feels like the end of the world.

So the tears didn’t last long. They quickly turned into zombie mode. My body switched to autopilot, and I slipped into dissociation.

What Dissociation Feels Like

When I dissociate, it’s like my personality gets muted. My body goes through the motions, but my mind feels absent. My speech slows down, my movements are blunted, and I feel like I’m behind a pane of glass watching myself.

At its most extreme, dissociation has shown up in my life after violent attacks. I would be on the floor, unable to move, speak, or respond to the people around me. My body completely shut down — I was there physically but not mentally. This is a survival strategy known as the “flop” response, part of the fight/flight/freeze system. I would leave my body entirely, dragged around like a rag doll, watching it all from above, feeling nothing.

This is obviously an extreme case of dissociation — and yet, today a simple viewing of my house caused me to dissociate. It feels almost crazy to me that something so “normal” can trigger the same mechanism. But the truth is that it’s not about one single event. The build-up of stress can do just as much damage as catastrophic violent episodes. Chronic overwhelm matters too. It’s just as important and shouldn’t be ignored.

Symptoms of Dissociation

Everyone experiences it differently, but common signs include:

Feeling numb or emotionally flat.
Speech and movement becoming slow or blunted.
Watching yourself from outside your body (out-of-body experience).
Feeling detached from the world around you, like you’re behind glass.
Losing chunks of time or “zoning out” for long periods.
Memory gaps around stressful events.
Automatic pilot — doing things without feeling present.
In extreme cases, going completely unresponsive, unable to talk or move (flop response).

Recognising these signs early is key. For me, they’re a warning that my body and mind are overwhelmed.

Why It Happens

Dissociation is the brain’s way of saying, “This is too much. Let’s disconnect for a while.” It’s not weakness — it’s protection. Many people experience it during times of extreme stress, grief, or trauma.

It’s especially common in people with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) or depression, because our emotions can feel so raw and overwhelming. The nervous system pulls the emergency brake, shutting things down so we don’t skid out of control.

How I Work Through It

The difference now is that I can recognise it, name it, and gently tame it. This time, after a few hours, I returned to my body. My past self wouldn’t have believed that was possible. I don’t try to “snap out of it” — because you can’t. Instead, I lean on grounding strategies that remind my body it’s safe:

5-4-3-2-1 senses grounding (5 things I can see, 4 I can touch, 3 I can hear, 2 I can smell, 1 I can taste).
Strong flavours: spicy crisps, sour sweets, mint — anything sharp that jolts me back into my body.
Breathing reset: in for 4, hold 2, out for 6.
Movement and touch: pressing my feet firmly into the ground, hugging a cushion, tapping my arms and legs.

These don’t “fix” dissociation, but they stop it from spiralling. They buy me time for the fog to lift.

When & Where to Get Support

Dissociation isn’t something to ignore. You should reach out for help if:

It’s happening often or lasting for long stretches.
You lose large chunks of time.
You find yourself unsafe while dissociating (e.g. driving, cooking).
It’s linked to self-harm urges or trauma flashbacks.
It makes everyday life feel impossible.

Where to turn:

Speak to your GP — they can check physical causes, discuss treatment, and refer you to mental health support.
Ask for therapy — especially trauma-informed approaches like DBT (Dialectical Behaviour Therapy), EMDR, or grounding-focused CBT.
Reach out to a trusted friend or family member so you’re not facing it alone.
In the UK, if you’re in crisis, you can call Samaritans (116 123) or use your local crisis line.

You don’t have to wait until you’re at breaking point. Dissociation is your body’s way of shouting that you need support.

A Major Life Win

I will never “cure” my BPD. It will always be part of me. But what I can do is grow, learn, and practise catching myself before I fall too far. And that’s what I did today. I can’t stress enough how important education is when it comes to mental health and trauma. You can only deal with what you can understand. You also have to be realistic and kind. I couldn’t make the dissociation vanish — but I worked through it without things getting worse.

That is progress. That is resilience. That is a major life win.

💬 Final thought: Dissociation doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means your body is trying to protect you from unbearable pain. And while it can feel frightening, it can also become a signal — a way of knowing when to slow down, ground yourself, and ask for support. Healing isn’t about never dissociating again. It’s about learning how to return.

Love Jamaine xxx