# Perception and Reality



## camerapansleft (Sep 12, 2007)

Hello. I am new here. I'm not the best with introductions, so I thought I'd just jump right in. I apologise ahead of time if I am out of place in doing so.

I'm 24 years old, soon to be 25. I was diagnosed with depression at the age of 19. I never really thought depression fit very well; I think it was any easy diagnosis at the time. I was in college and my life was falling apart. I wasn't able to handle much of anything, (I never did finish college) so I sought out my doctor and a counselour at my school. The counselour could not get me to answer her questions. (I suffer from 'I don't know' disease-- and I am entirely too over-analytical for counseling to be of any real help to me.) The doctor diagnosed me, and put me on Prozac. I quit the Prozac because it caused a lot of anxiety issues. I tried Paxil and quit because it turned me into a zombie-like state. (Which I am thinking is now very similar to a depersonalisation state.)

The last few years, I've had nothing but time to think and to analyse and it's making me crazy. Thinking back, I realise my mentality has always existed in the same way, but it never really became an issue until college. Since that year, I've been suffering on and off with anxiety, what I believe to be depersonalisation, as well as derealisation (though I believe this existed at a much younger age), depression, mood issues, friendship issues, issues with interacting and participating in regular day to day activities.

I have not gotten help since being put off counseling; I haven't had insurance or money or much of anything. But, I got married in May, and my life is sort of coming around, and I'm now getting the chance to figure things out and maybe find help.

I do not wish to diagnose myself, but the eerieness of depersonalisation and derealisation is obviously familiar or I would not be here.

Anyway, this is where the 'jumping in' part comes in. I wrote this last night, and I want to share it. I suppose I'm hoping for some sense of relating, thoughts, anything within grasp. 
_
When I was little, I'd sit for hours contemplating the reality of my existence. I suppose it is a strange thing for a child to do, but I did it regularly. Inside my head, conversing with myself, I'd try to understand reality-- how I was real, and what it means to be real. How do I perceive myself? How do I perceive the world? Despite quantifying reality, can I feel it?

When I interact with the world, someone else is doing it; when I speak, it is not me speaking, not unless you are someone very close to me. Even then, there is no thought behind it. I do not know how to connect thought and speech; there is no connection-- my interactions exist separate from myself. Every word spoken precedes itself with, "What are you going to say, next? Do I say anything at all? Go ahead. Try." Strangely, I would comply with the request.

I'd cry when spoken to. Others thought I was overly sensitive. Inside, I'd scream at myself. I had no control of the tears; I never wanted to cry, it just happened.

Every word spoken, every thought, would occur with much prompting. Every action would flow without thought or decision making. Simply respond. Every action, every thought, every activity, I wondered if others were the same. Mostly, I thought they must be, as I never seemed to be very different.

If I debated long enough, I would frighten myself. I'd try to shake myself out of it; I hated feeling unreal.

Today, the world seems surreal; it is alien. There is this fuzziness level to my existence. There is no real feeling, emotion. Emotional response is inappropriate to given situation. My real world is inside of my head, and a pain of glass, a sensory fog, separates me from the outside. Everyday I feel I am going more and more insane.

Do I repeat these words, because I subconsciously wish to point someone to a diagnosis, or have I simply never heard them before? I find the descriptive words, and it is delighting and trapping all at once.

Depression never quite fit. To an outsider, there would be little difference. To me, there is a world of change. Outsiders see loss of interest in life. I never lost interest in life; I very much want to participate, but I don't understand how. Outsiders see loss of energy, of exhaustion, of too much sleep; they do not see that energy is expended inside my own head. Depression exists without hope, without the desire to live. I would never desire to take my own life, I love it too much.

I could never begin to understand the why or the how. I would not attempt to diagnose. I know the dangers, and I know that I can see bits and pieces of myself in everything.

I perceive others seeing me as fine, perhaps lazy, nervous, or lacking real motivation. They do not understand where the battle lies. I spend my time thinking, analysing, contemplating, watching. The problem is, I want to do, to interact, to participate.

(Reading exists for people like me. It is a world of which I have been blessed, to gain an idea of reality. I get a sense of interaction, of existence, but it's not really real, is it? I feel it, touch it, smell it, sense it, but it's not real. The internet-- it's the same thing, isn't it?)

Stream of consciousness, internal monologue, is my reality._


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## Capt-Hook (Aug 22, 2007)

You nailed the last 5 years of my life head on with your social interaction bit. People always saw me as shy or nervous when I was with them because of my lack of input into conversations, etc. But, I made a few major changes in my life and something happened. I'm not sure what. But, the opposite happens. If anything I add too much input or am too outgoing for most people. But, before that I was definitely sitting there watching people instead of participating. Every time I would speak with someone I would be sitting their thinking to myself things like, "So, this is small talk... What do I say... Anything seems overly exaggerated for some reason. Nothing would seem naturally. Maybe I'll just shrug or crack a fake smile and a small laugh and say nothing so, my appearance of not caring doesn't upset them." It tore me a part. It pretty much caused me to have the worst teenage hood, I could imagine. But, eventually I got over it and so can you.

I found the problem behind that were friends that I couldn't talk to about things like that. When I found new friends that I could trust and explain myself to, I began opening up more and more until I needed to be closed from over exposure. Do you have any pressures like that in your life? They could even be underlying and you don't even know that they're there.

As for the reality part... Now, that you mention it, when I was a kid, in the heat of a moment or even when I was alone, I would all of a sudden realize how real reality was. It would just dawn on me and I would be like woah... this is happening, things exist, reality. I didn't understand much existentialism when I was young so, I didn't know what to make of it. Maybe that's what lead me onto this path... But, from what I hear the path to losing this terrible affliction is ignoring those thoughts, completely. Keep your mind busy with something else. I'm not sure if what you have is DP/DR or something else. DP/DR is very intense and you would read the symptoms and right away be "Woah! That it right there." Do you feel like you're dreaming or that everything is fake?

Wow, long message. Sorry.

:lol:


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## kioreija (Sep 16, 2006)

Sorry to butt in but, holy moly, I can totally relate like.. almost 100% with most of the text in italics.



> When I interact with the world, someone else is doing it; when I speak, it is not me speaking, not unless you are someone very close to me. Even then, there is no thought behind it. I do not know how to connect thought and speech; there is no connection-- my interactions exist separate from myself. Every word spoken precedes itself with, "What are you going to say, next? Do I say anything at all? Go ahead. Try." Strangely, I would comply with the request.
> 
> I'd cry when spoken to. Others thought I was overly sensitive. Inside, I'd scream at myself. I had no control of the tears; I never wanted to cry, it just happened.


Especially this part. I am so horrible at explaining things, but I relate to this so much..

/random


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