12/14/16 EDIT: I went back and fixed some tense issues that were originally intentional but poorly executed. The whole story will be past tense from here on out. Happy reading!
A/N and disclaimer: I don't see a lot (or any, really) dissociation in fic so I wanted to throw some out there. This does NOT contain dissociative disorders such as dissociative identity disorder, dissociative amnesia, or dissociative fugue. this story will contain depersonalization, derealization, dissociation, and out-of-body type experiences. the closest thing to what Mabel is experiencing is depersonalization disorder, as it is defined in the DSM-5. if you want more information about things like this, the wikipedia page for depersonalization disorder is very helpful. Mabel is not being diagnosed with depersonalization disorder in this story, but this is the sort of disorder that she would be showing symptoms for.
The way that Mabel feels during her dissociation and the way that I write it are according to my personal experiences.
I do not own Gravity Falls.
Trigger warning: there will be some non-graphic depictions of self harm in upcoming chapters. This will NOT involve cutting or heavy bleeding.
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Mabel was feeling... far away, lately.
It wasn't like her. She knew this. Heck, it wasn't like anybody! She'd never heard of anybody feeling this way before. In fact, if she had to say that this weird... far-away-ness she was feeling would be characteristic of anybody, she would probably have to pick Dipper. Dipper. And she wasn't supposed to be like Dipper... Especially with the way he'd been acting, lately.
Lately, Dipper had been really, really anxious. Ever since their Great Uncle Ford came out of that portal, obscuring everything they thought they knew about their Grunkle Stan, bringing the author of the journals so much closer but also so much farther from Dipper's grasp, he had been acting all... weird. He was sadder than usual, lately. He was more nervous than usual, lately. He was more brooding, more restless, more crestfallen, shier, twitchier, uncomfy-er... Gosh, he was even sweatier, lately. But he sure as heck wasn't far away, lately. At least, not in the same way that Mabel was.
She had tried to talk to Dipper about her problem once, and he'd been really nice. He'd tried to understand, and he really thought he had understood, but he just didn't. He couldn't.
They'd been sitting on the ground in a clearing in the forest, just enjoying the sounds of nature when Mabel's hesitant question had left her lips. Do you ever kind of just... get distant? Forget where you are?
"Mabel!" he'd said, a smile lighting up his face. It was a relatively uncommon sight ever since the night Great Uncle Ford came out of that portal, so it was nice to see. "Mabel, that happens to me all the time!"
"Really?" Mabel had gasped, clutching her little fists hopefully against her chest.
Dipper had nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Sometimes, I'll get to thinking about Bill, or Great Uncle Ford, or all the fighting, or all the lies and the questions and mysteries, and I just... zone out thinking about it all! I get caught up with all these ideas in my head and I just keep thinking about them and I don't even notice what's going on around me-"
Mabel's shoulders had slumped. She'd averted her gaze, dejected, and after a while she'd interrupted him. "No, that's not it," she'd sighed, hanging her head. Her hair had fallen over her face and into her eyes as she pulled her knees to her chest, watching the ground quietly. "It's not like that."
Dipper had fallen silent, feeling a pang of guilt as he watched her disappointment. He hadn't said anything for a while after that, watching his sister with a concerned frown. After some time of quiet, he'd reached out to gingerly brush her hair out of her eyes so she could look up at him. "Well, then... what is it like?"
She'd smiled weakly up at him, not knowing how to explain it and not wanting to try. Suddenly, she had hopped up to her feet, holding a hand out to help her twin up off the ground. "Come on," she'd said cheerfully, her usual optimistic grin plastered across her face. "Let's go back to the shack! I heard Grunkle Stan is making us a special dinner!" she'd sung, skipping out of the clearing and pulling a laughing, jestfully protesting Dipper behind her.
"Nooo!" he'd laughed, running after his sister anyways. "It's probably just old bread he dug out of the dumpster behind Greasy's Diner!"
Mabel had laughed in return, but as they kept running home, her smile had faded from her face. She had to admit she was pretty disappointed when it turned out Dipper didn't know anything about what she was experiencing. But... she never really thought he would understand, anyway.
Dipper always seemed to be present. Sure, sometimes he zoned off and daydreamed or fantasized or got lost in his own thoughts, but he was still always thinking about something. He was always so real, so sturdy. Even when he was sniveling or sniffling or getting too caught up in his hopes and regrets and confusion, he was here. He was Dipper. He was always Dipper.
But Mabel, she was... Well, she wasn't always Mabel.
It was hard to explain. Sometimes, she would be working on a new glittery art project or knitting Waddles a new sweater or eating Stancakes with her family, just doing normal regular things that she loved, and then she'd just be... far away. It had nothing to do with their great uncles fighting each other, nothing to do with the lies and mysteries or monsters or portals or demons or any of that mess. And when it happened... it wasn't because she was thinking. She never really thought about anything when she was far away. No questions or confusion or anger or sadness or anything, just... Far-away-ness.
It was like she wasn't attached to her body anymore. She could kind of observe her surroundings, but she didn't really see anything. She heard noises and stuff, but her brain wouldn't process any information. She could move, but it would feel wrong. It would feel slow. Time would feel slow, too, but not really. She could never tell if it was time that was getting slow or... or if it was just her.
It was like she could see her body, but she wasn't in it. She would look at her hands, but they weren't hers. All association she had between her body and her mind would go away. She couldn't really feel herself, she couldn't really feel like herself. She couldn't really feel anything. She couldn't really feel real.
She hated it.
Mabel loved herself. She messed up sometimes, she made mistakes, she had regrets, sometimes she felt sad or angry or confused. But that was part of being alive! That was what made it so great, because for every sprained ankle or stuffy nose or frustrated scream, there was always a song, a friend, a bottle of glitter, a laugh, a twin.
But she was losing herself. It would happen every day, now. Sometimes it would happen multiple times a day. It kept happening, and it was awful. Nothing ever triggered it, so there was no way to avoid it, it just happened. It was happening so often now that people were starting to notice.
Just last night, she was snuggled in Grunkle Stan's lap watching Duck-tective. Dipper was on the floor scribbling notes from the day's activities in the back of Great Uncle Ford's journal, ignoring the show. Mabel was enjoying her time with her Grunkle Stan until the sound of the TV started getting quiet. Distant. The warmth from her grunkle's arm wrapped around her started feeling unnatural. Unreal. Then she stopped feeling it alltogether. She looked down at herself but didn't see anything. She looked up at the TV but couldn't understand what was going on. Or, maybe she could, but... she didn't care to try.
After a while, her eyes started registering that the pictures on the TV were very different from the last time she had seen it. This isn't Duck-tective... She could hear a far-away voice, from somewhere very close to her, speaking.
"...awake? Mabel?" As if on its own, Mabel's head slowly moved up to look at Grunkle Stan. His brow was furrowed, eyes squinted, a deep frown set in his face. She knew that he was feeling something, but she couldn't quite register what emotion her great uncle was trying to convey. "What?"
"I asked if you were awake, kid." The worry in his voice was clear; if Dipper hadn't gone to bed an hour and a half ago, he would have picked up on it easily. So why didn't Mabel? Why did she seem so... far away?
Mabel looked down at her hands, slowly coming back to her body. "Did I... I don't think I ever fell asleep," she said softly, clenching her hands into fists, feeling her nails digging into her palms. The pain helped a little bit, to remind her that this was her body. To help her feel a little more.
"Yeesh," sighed her grunkle, scratching at the back of his neck. "You're freakin' me out a little here, kid."
"Why? What's wrong?" She was almost completely back now, and Stan did feel a lot better looking into her eyes and seeing that chocolate brown sparkle, even if it was a worried, confused one. At least her eyes weren't empty anymore.
"You've been asleep for over an hour, kid. Or somethin' like that, at least. I sent you two up to the attic after the show, but you didn't get up with Dipper. He tried talkin' to ya, but you wouldn't say anything. Like you couldn't hear him. You were actin' like you were asleep Mabel, but... your eyes were open."
Mabel blinked. Over an hour? It hadn't ever lasted that long before. "Oh. Well... I guess I fell asleep with my eyes open, then, huh?" She smiled, hoping it didn't look too forced.
"Yeah, kid, I guess ya did," Stan said quietly. He wasn't as worried about what happened as he was about that way Mabel was acting. So what if she had zoned out for a minute? Everyone zoned out every once in a while. But why was she so nervous and embarrassed about it when she came to? He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, though; she must be okay. Mabel's always okay. He returned her smile and ruffled her hair. "Alright, it's gettin' late. Hurry on up to bed, knucklehead."
Mabel hopped out of Grunkle Stan's lap, giggling and wagging a finger at him. "Grunkle Stan, you sly rhymer, you."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get out of here, before I give you a noogie."
"Goodnight, Grunkle Stan," she called as she ran up the stairs.
"Goodnight, pun'kin," Stan said softly, smiling after her. "Sweet dreams."
Mabel retreated to her room cheerfully, glad to be back to normal and in her own body, but she still felt a little upset. It was as if there were some sort of residue of uneasiness, a pile of leftovers from her little experience back there. She tiptoed into her room, wary of her brother and worried he might still be awake, but luckily, tonight he was fast asleep, an arm strewn over his forehead and one leg on top of the covers, mouth wide open and dribbling onto his pillow. She giggled at the sight of her silly brother and crawled up into her own bed, pulling Waddles in with her.
"Good night, Waddles," she whispered, kissing his snout before falling back onto her pillow, smiling softly up at the ceiling. She let her smile fade slowly, however, when she thought about how she had pulled herself into her own body back there… with pain.
She didn't like the idea of that. She didn't like it at all, so she tried to ignore the notion as she closed her eyes, got comfy into her bed, and tried to go to sleep. Almost experimentally, she tightened her fists again, muscles contracting as the feeling of her nails digging into her palms heated up her hands, causing her arms to shake. One thing was for sure.. This really was her body. The world around her was truly there, interacting with her. All the sounds, the wind rustling the pine trees outside, her brother's occasional kitten-like snore, her pig's constant and very un-kitten-like snores, they all felt so… not-far-away. They felt close. Mabel felt close. She felt real.
She relaxed her hands after a few seconds, biting her lip nervously. A feeling of guilt washed over her, as if Dipper or Grunkle Stan or even Great Uncle Ford would sense what she was doing and accuse her of doing something horribly wrong. "Let's just… pretend that never happened, okay Waddles?" She patted her pig on the back, and he grunted before rolling over onto his side to snuggle up to her more closely. She smiled, comforted by his unconditional trust. "That's right, Waddles... just between you and me."
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Please remember to leave a review! This all I have in my sad, empty husk of a life! Now have a nice day!