severance
in defense of dissociation
Hi, friends. I’ve missed you these last few months.
I’ve missed myself.
I still kinda do.
Words have been scarce. There are things I don’t know how to say, and things I’ve wanted to say and couldn’t.
For better and for worse, I can say them now.
A few months ago, I wrote to you about the wisdom of The Hanged Man tarot card and its prompt to surrender to the miseries of the present moment.
We will stay here until we re-enter our bodies and feel the gravity drawing down our bones. Until we stop fruitlessly twisting at our bonds, stop trying to escape. Until, upside down, awake in the underworld, we can at last perceive the true size and shape of the thing. Only then will we find the exit.
The words were pretty, but I was wrong. Or, more accurately: what I need now, what I have needed—perhaps even what I needed then, if I were really being honest with myself—is very, very different. The exact opposite, in fact.
Some of you know that I’ve worked for more than a decade as a science and medical writer for the U.S. government, creating webpages, reports, and social media posts for the National Institutes of Health and the CDC. The work wasn’t thrilling, but the job was secure, and in my minuscule ways, I was helping.
I don’t have to tell you that circumstances have changed.
By February of this year, I was logging on each day to work at the fascist propaganda factory, purging government websites of objectionable language like “gender” and “disparity,” and polishing sycophantic letters to the occupier of the White House. I was carrying out the orders of men who want me—and anyone like me, and millions of people far more vulnerable than me—annihilated.
Forcing myself to sink into the reality of the situation was, uh, not going to end well. I needed a new tactic.
So I severed.
Each morning, like the characters on the TV show Severance, I dressed, entered the (virtual) workplace, and began dissociating. Hard. My psyche divided into Innie Kate, who existed only in the office, and Outie Kate, who delivered her there.
The process was conscious and methodical. I designated a perfume for workday mornings to give my Innie a specific olfactory cue, and listened to the show’s opening theme as I opened my laptop. For six to eight hours, five days a week, Innie Kate showed up, hollow as a rotted log, and perpetrated harm against herself, her values, and the world.
Outie Kate agonized over her position and the choices she was making. But both Kates are disabled, and vulnerable to viruses, and in need of healthcare and a steady income, and remote work is getting harder to find, and they could not afford to jump ship, and the writing was on the wall, anyway. Layoffs were coming.
Outie Kate confessed her severance strategy to her therapist, anticipating a lecture or at least a sad shake of the head. But her therapist is a good one. He blessed her instead. He reminded her that dissociation is a last-ditch survival strategy, and acknowledged that she was, indeed, crawling through the last ditch. For now, he said. Until you have other options, this is working.
I won’t spoil the TV show, but I will say that the thing about even surgical severance is that the barrier is not impermeable. Suffering began to seep across the membrane—in both directions.
Outie Kate was, at times, overtaken by the full force of what her innie had done that day.
And Innie Kate, vacant and compliant, began receiving transmissions from the outside. She started drawing during work meetings, a cartoon version of herself who said what Innie Kate could not. Who had insights and fury and despair.
On Zoom calls, Innie Kate gave brisk status updates while Outie Kate leaked onto the page. Yep, I’ll have that to you by Wednesday. / i can’t do this anymore.
The strategy was brutal, destructive, and functional. Kate carried on.
Then, at last, the axe fell.
Kate was let go. Her supervisor, a kind person, delivered the news with genuine anguish.
Innie Kate tried not to laugh as she asked the question.
Will there be severance?
There would not.
what happens now
I need another job, obviously. But while I figure out how to make that happen, I’m piling on the freelance work. So:
If you or anyone you know are looking for a super-sharp copyeditor/proofreader, a plain language expert, or a sticker/merch designer, give me a holler.
You can read more about my offerings here.
miracles and wonders
Not everything is terrible. Some things are even magical:
Rebecca Chaperon is a witch and a marvel as well as a transcendent collaborator and friend. Her solo exhibition, Mortal Magic, based on our semi-fictionalized correspondence, is opening this week at Campbell River Art Gallery in Vancouver, Canada.
As part of the exhibition festivities, I’ll be teaching Tiny Incantations, a poetry workshop in which participants will craft their own teeny spellbooks. (If any of you are interested in taking the workshop, let me know—I may offer it again on my own in the new year.)
The Big Challenges spooky season collection is out now. I love it so damn much and can’t wait for you to see it.
The sweet and splendid BFFs over at Alive & (Un)well interviewed Elinor and I about our sticker business, our illness, and how we make it through the day.
tenderness toward existence days
CW: Food mention.
We need all the little delights we can get right now. Here are a few opportunities for silliness over the next few weeks.
National Ants on a Log Day (September 9)
National Iguana Awareness Day (13)
National Coloring Day (14)
National Collect Rocks Day (16)
Pause the World Day (21)
Thanks for reading all the way to the end. And thank you, thank you, thank you for staying alive with me.
So sorry to hear this Kate, deeply gutted for you and the whole mess. May you find some more work and gently be able to rest. Sending a huge wave of love ❤️
Oof this resonates! The innie and the outie.. I have done that. And my therapist had a similar “do what you need to do” approach. But I’m sorry Kate. What an ordeal it is to have to sever ourselves from our work selves.. I hope you’ve been able to take good care of yourself 💕