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Oct 12, 2026 · 16 min · 9 segments
Nora is thirty-eight, precise, self-contained, and very good at managing her condition. She has had dissociative gaps since she was twenty-six — hours she simply cannot account for — and she has built…
I should tell you about the gaps before I tell you anything else.
I've had them since I was 26.
That's how I think of them.
As a thing I have.
Like a bad knee or a sensitivity to certain foods.
A management problem.
I was assessed by a psychiatrist at 27.
And she gave me a name for what was happening and a framework for living with it.
and I took both and used them and got on with things.
This is, I have been told, an impressive response to a difficult diagnosis.
I mention this not to seem capable, but because it's important that you understand who I am before any of this begins.
I am a person who gets on with things.
I have been getting on with things for a very long time.
The gaps work like this.
I am present, doing something ordinary, making tea, sitting at my desk, walking to the shops.
And then I am present again, somewhere else in time, with no seam between.
No warning, no fade.
Just a cut, like film edited badly.
The gap in between is not darkness, and it is not sleep.
It is simply not there.
I have no access to it.
I should tell you about the gaps before I tell you anything else.
I've had them since I was 26.
That's how I think of them.
As a thing I have.
Like a bad knee or a sensitivity to certain foods.
A management problem.
I was assessed by a psychiatrist at 27.
And she gave me a name for what was happening and a framework for living with it.
and I took both and used them and got on with things.
This is, I have been told, an impressive response to a difficult diagnosis.
I mention this not to seem capable, but because it's important that you understand who I am before any of this begins.
I am a person who gets on with things.
I have been getting on with things for a very long time.
The gaps work like this.
I am present, doing something ordinary, making tea, sitting at my desk, walking to the shops.
And then I am present again, somewhere else in time, with no seam between.
No warning, no fade.
Just a cut, like film edited badly.
The gap in between is not darkness, and it is not sleep.
It is simply not there.
I have no access to it.
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