That's pretty much how it was for me, except that I didn't completely shut down. Mom at least made sure that I had books, so I had that as a path of escapism.
Of course, that combined with my sleep disorder (which was undiagnosed and completely unknown of, but now obvious in retrospect) and everything else meant that I really did spend a lot of quiet, solitary nights, reading books, drinking tea, introspecting, and imaginaning so much that it probably WAS dissociation, just not to a dangerous or otherwise notable degree.
A lot of these coping mechanisms still exist today, though I try to moderate them.
Of course, that combined with my sleep disorder (which was undiagnosed and completely unknown of, but now obvious in retrospect) and everything else meant that I really did spend a lot of quiet, solitary nights, reading books, drinking tea, introspecting, and imaginaning so much that it probably WAS dissociation, just not to a dangerous or otherwise notable degree.
A lot of these coping mechanisms still exist today, though I try to moderate them.