# This was supposed to be a little intro, more like my bio



## AylaStar (Jan 4, 2015)

Wow. I guess I need this. I woke up, terrified, and came to the forum to read. It seems to be one of the only things helping me cope with my latest bout with DR/DP. I did NOT expect to write all this. It just kept flowing out of me. It is written a little incoherently and started out a little weird because I was writing while having an episode. I wanted to just do a short post on my first few experiences with DR/DP and it turned into my life story. (Well, a lot of it) Pretty therapeutic for me and I hope it's helpful for you.
I'm including a lot of my traumatic experiences. Some might seem mild, yet they effected me enough that they came up while I was writing this. They might trigger you. I might have left some out that I just cant access right now for whatever reason. Keep in mind this is not a sob story. I share these experiences not to be or look like a victim, but so people who need to can relate. I'm also keen on over-sharing in hopes that we can find a cause/cure. Who knows if we discover all of us had a certain experience or thought pattern from an experience it would be worth it. To me, until we know more, details are important. Focusing on details are actually one of the ways I've learned to cope with this too.

My family of origin was typically dysfunctional. My parents divorced when I was about 3 years old. I had an older sister (whom still can't say 'I love you' to me even though we get along great now) and then shortly after the divorce I got a little brother. He was my half brother, but we didn't even notice or care. When my Dad came to visit, or if we would go visit him, my brother was always a part of it. We moved when I was about 8 or 9 year old hundreds of miles away from all friends and family when my Mom went back to school. It was a good thing I think, we were in the ghetto with drive-bys (which I experienced at the age of 4ish) to Santa Cruz, Northern California. Hippy town with nature and amazingness everywhere.
I was always sensitive. Very dramatic and really FELT. Definitely an empath. The weird thing, is while I don't feel like I'm me with DR/DP I can still feel other peoples pain. I'll discuss this later.
My sister tried to kill herself a few times and I was relentlessly bullied. My brother would hit and my mom was kind of out of it. On one hand she was strict enough that i remember pleading and arguing with her to let me do something, but on the other we were totally neglected in some ways. She was a single Mom with three kids. She did her best and I think she did good by us in most ways. 
I was always thinking. I wanted to be an actress but while I loved attention I also wanted to be deep and complex. I was totally extroverted but with the yearning to show everyone how deep I was. 
When I got older I thought that what made you "deep" was having a good story. And good stories were drama. I would set myslef up to get hurt. I was attracted to people that weren't well and I desperately reveled in being a victim. I also noticed "cutters" but I hit a depression so great that I said to myself that cutters got attention, people could see how they're hurt. I don't even deserve pity! I'm going to hurt myself emotionally and mentally so that no one can even pity me! Warped thinking. By the time I "got over it' and decided I didn't like getting hurt after all I noticed that it kept happening. I felt like I had cursed myself. I felt like I was done being the victim but it was the only role I knew how to play and so I was stuck. It took A LOT of work to discover and actually, to believe that I wasn't cursed. I couldn't believe that the world would ever be on my side, so I would make bad decisions. The weird thing is, I would knowingly make bad decisions yet still expect it to turn out well, when it didn't, I would be surprised and hurt all over again. On good days I would see that I had set myself up for it and then beat myself up. Instead of being the victim of others I could call myself stupid. If self esteem comes from doing esteem-able acts, then catching yourself hurting yourself facilitates hurting yourself. This is the first of many cyclical thoughts I have. Vicious cycles that I can intellectually see, but have a hard time getting out of. I don't do it perfect, but I have come a long way from this. I learned life is dramatic enough, I don't need to cause drama, be a part of it, or promote it. I am accountable for what I involve myself in. But it's scary. Sometimes I ask if Im just fooling myself. But as long as I'm trying to be healthy and "good" in all my decisions I feel like I'm on a pretty good track.

So, that nutshell is done. My original intent was to share with you the progress of my DR/DP. These are some of the first and most significant times where DP/DR has shown up in my life.

Naptimes
The first time I remember feeling like something was REALLY wrong. I was only about 4 or 5 years old. I was supposed to go take a nap at the babysitters. I couldn't sleep, didn't want to and really had anxiety about having no control. Thinking of this later made me question if it was related to a powerlessness issue. I have had issues with different types of authority throughout my life and this is the first occasion I remember feeling that. I'm pretty sure this was a type of anxiety with only slight DP/DR. I mean slight as in, maybe felt it for a second but didn't get the full sensation. The intense fear has stuck with me though. It wasn't related per se, but it was from here we saw the smoke one day when my mom came to pick us up what we later discovered was our house that had caught fire. We lost almost everything.

AIDS scare
Like a lot of kids, I experimented with my friends. We were relatively young, but it was pretty mild. I'm not sure what is supposed to be appropriate for a healthy human child, but I know that exploring our bodies and sexuality is not something to be ashamed of. I was very young though. 5 or 6 I would guess. We'd play random games and sometimes even dare to barely touch each other, but it was more like curious kids using a game to feel interesting feelings than anything. I was at home with my sibling(s) and a babysitter. A commercial came on,(I would guess about 1986ish) and it was a teenager in a hospital bed. He had purple marks on his body and was pale and had all sorts of tubes. The narrator talked about how sex can give you AIDS. I was so scared. I somehow knew enough that sex involved your private parts and I had done something with those, so I thought that I had had sex and I assumed I had AIDS and that I was dying. I immediately had such crazy anxiety that I physically acted out. (Only time I've done that) I couldn't deal with the pure terror inside so I ran up the couch and then just started crying hysterically. I was so ashamed I couldn't tell anyone what was happening. Eventually, my mom took me alone in the car to a park and we sat there and she asked me what was wrong. Now, this is semi-humorous if you have a morbid sense of humor. Tragedy plus time equals comedy right? Well, my poor Mom asked me what was going on. I looked out the window and questioned if I should tell her and how much. I looked at her and I said, "Mom, I have AIDS". I remember her eyes going wide, she may have let out a breath of amusement (yet trying to stay compassionate) or something, and then she said, "how?" I said, "Sex". At this she got a little concerned and she immediately started reacting how I thought she would to begin with. I was sooo ashamed and when I finally got the nerve I told her what I had done with my friends. She laughed. She assured me that she had played with her friends too and that most kids do that at some point and that I couldn't get Aids that way. She was too assured and I had been living in hell for too many days for it to just be erased. I didn't believe her, but I had a moment of thinking that if I was wrong, how happy I would be. I would PRETEND that I didn't have Aids and hope for the best. When the purple marks started to show up I could allow myself to be more concerned. Throughout the years I remembered this and to this day still feel a sense of impending doom around it occasionally. Mostly I just laugh at it though.

Michigan "homesickness"
I went to visit my Moms side of the family in Michigan from California. I think I was about 7. It was the first time I traveled by myself such a long distance. I was super excited and the family out there was stoked to see me. I had plans to stay with a few of them and they all wanted me to stay longer. The days were great, I'd get up and go roller skating or walk around in the humidity and trip out over the mosquito's. But the night time was different. When I had to go to bed I felt weird. I remember being a little freaked out and wanting to see my immediate family and then realizing that they were thousands of miles away and that there was absolutely no way I could hug my Mom for comfort. I felt alone and scared. I started having an anxiety attack and this was probably the start of when I would read a book or draw or do something until I would get tired enough to pass out. Almost from then on I would never 'go to sleep', I would have to pass out. Every morning I woke up okay, maybe trip out a little bit about the negative feelings I had the night before but I would stay busy and not think about it. When night time came I would start getting nervous in anticipation over the fear I would be having. I couldn't understand it and finally shared with someone what was happening. They said something like, 'Oh, you're just homesick.' So, I took that literally. I thought "Homesickness" was actually a legitimate physical ailment that manifested mentally. I couldn't have put it that eloquent back then, but at least I didn't feel alone because it at least had a name. Of course, my aunts and grandma would say homesickness was normal and I assumed that because they knew what it was they would have taken me to the Doctor if I needed it. A few people probably got confused when I would nonchalantly say things like, "I'm having so much fun I never want to go home. But I wish I could get some medicine for this homesickness" I eventually went and stayed with my Aunt who looked A LOT like my mom and had the same body type so when I closed my eyes it felt like I was hugging my Mom.

Moms burn
I have no clue what triggered this episode. I was at home and it was around bedtime and old enough to not want anything to do with my brother and his cooties. I was old enough that if the kids at school found out I slept with my parent I would get teased. Maybe about 10 years old. I was obsessed that night. I couldn't get over the compulsion that I had to stay with my Mom. I BEGGED her to let me stay in her room. I would sleep on the floor! She adamantly refused. Eventually I calmed down enough to realize she wasn't giving in, but I was so beside myself (interesting expression) that I settled on staying in my brothers room. It gave me just enough comfort that I eventually did fall asleep. I had been so emotional and difficult about the whole thing that I was grounded. The next day I went outside to tell my friends I couldn't play. They asked why and as I started trying to figure out how I was going to explain I freaked out the night before I heard a scream come from our home. My Mom was shrieking! My sisters voice chimed in and I ran into the front door to see my Mom standing there in anguish, skin hanging off her arm. There was a frying pan full of hot grease that my mom angrily grabbed and it splashed up on her arm and upper chest. She had 2nd and 3rd degree burns and had to get skin graphs. She was in the hospital for 2 weeks. Two things happened in regards to my mentality at this time (probably more, but these are what stood out conciously) one, I became so stressed at this young age that at one point I threw myself on the bed and had a self induced seizure. I felt more like I was hypnotized or acting on an emotion than an actual physical issue. and the second was, I remembered the night before and I correlated freaking out with something bad happening. Even though I thought it was dumb and far-fetched, this part of my mind thought maybe, just maybe it was a psychic premonition. Maybe I had that horrible anxiety because I knew my Mom would be hurt. THIS is one of the worst thoughts someone like me could have. From that moment on, when I'd allow myself, I would entertain the thought occasionally during an anxiety attack that maybe I was having it because something bad was about to happen. Talk about a vicious cycle! How do you push away and ignore a horrible feeling if it might be a clue into what is going to happen. Thank God at that time I was surrounded by skeptics so I curtailed feeding it too much. But, to this day it is one of my thought processes and who knows. What I do know is that even if it WAS some kind of sixth sense, I was just worrying about something that hadn't happened and couldn't be changed. I'd get too crazy if I thought I could actually predict and change the outcome.

Blueberry - Sleepdeath
Years later. I was probably about 13 or so I was smoking pot. I had been for a while and THOUGHT I was getting high. I literally smoked pot over 10 times and never realized that it wasn't REALLY effecting me. Or it was, but it wasn't until later that I smoked some and had a gnarly response. The first time this happened I was scared. I assumed the guys I was smoking with laced the weed with LSD or something. After all, I had smoked pot tons of times and never had this reaction. I felt like everything was fake, cartoonish even. I saw in flashes. I felt out of control and like nothing was real. It was almost a surprise to me when I reacted normally and responded like a real normal human being. It made everything mechanical, almost like it had all been done before. I was sufficiently freaked out but (and this is the ONLY time this has happened) I allowed my social anxiety of trying to fit in and not look like a newbie overrun the DP/DR that started. I was able to control the fear by making sure I was cool. (God I wish it was that easy). About a year or so later, maybe a year and a half I had been smoking pot regularly when all of a sudden, every time I would smoke I would get EXTREMELY tired. I would basically nod out as soon as I could. All I wanted to do was sleep and I remember feeling like sleep was a major comfort and felt "good". I went to a friends house one night and I smoked 'Blueberry' for the first (and last) time. It's basically just a special kind of pot, but I forget what made it so special. I smoked it and I immediately wanted to sleep, but I felt weird. I started thinking that I couldn't go to sleep. I had this thought that if I went to sleep, I would die. Not only would I die, but the whole world would cease to exist. This lead to thinking that everything was basically non-existent anyway. I started trying to control it and I thought about where I was and tried to relate it to somewhere I had been before. The room kind of reminded me of my cousins room that I had visited years before and had only seen one time. To this day I can envision that. I lost it. I would do something and it felt like it took FOREVER. Time was moving so slow, yet when I thought about it it would speed up and I would comprehend that I had been somewhere for a while, yet it was like I was waking up from a dream while I was still awake. I did get the sense that I wanted to go home, but then I realized there was no home. That everything was basically under glass and this was just like a movie. A movie I was stuck in and couldn't get out of. Like I wasn't really there, I was somewhere else and this was just a video game and a shadow of what life really was. I started thinking about what it could really be and then it made me think how meaningless everything is if there was a REAL life. Everything was just fake and had already been done before. We are Sims. I felt physically fuzziness (not furry fuzzy, like, no outline fuzzy) at times and like I was one big ball of vibration instead of a body. Thoughts, feelings, emotions don't matter, they're not real. It was hell. The next day I felt it a little bit, but it eventually faded and even though I steered clear from pot for about a week, I tried smoking it again and again. I would swear it off and tell myself I was crazy for doing it because of where it took me, but it wasn't until I realized the DP/DR was lasting longer each time and that it was harder and harder to "get back" that I had the fear of, 'what if I never come back? What if I'm stuck in that hell forever?' I really must have been in some CRAZY denial, I think part of why people who get cured disappear is because it's part of DP/DR to "forget" how bad it is when you're in it. We remember feeling fear and even pain at how horrible it was, but it's untouchable to remember or understand how it feels if you're not in a full blown attack. I would convince myself that it would be different and then find myself in hell. Eventually, after an attack that lasted almost 2 weeks, I stopped smoking. There was one last hurrah where I did mushroom too (BAD IDEA) and I freaked out so much the only way I coped was by trying to control everything. I acted like a type-A OCD Mother on vacation with her kids. I was extremely mechanical and had to do the proper thing and be constantly moving and doing something that proved I was still there.

ASP - Aspodoodelywoodely
I felt alone. I felt scared. I started having attacks if I just thought about attacks. I didn't know what it was, just that it was EXTREMELY intense and I couldn't understand that if someone else had ever felt this, why I had never heard about it before. It was so crazy and so extreme that I felt like maybe I had a new mental issue no one had ever had before. I was so scared I was going crazy. I was scared and I would envision myself falling down and having a seizure and being stuck like that in that mind frame forever and no one even knowing what was going on. I feared that (Like in Being John Malkovich) that robot me would take over and the real me would be stuck in my head and stuck in the fear and sense of impending doom all day everyday, but no one even comprehending or knowing that there was anything wrong. I could act completely normal! For a long time I NEEDED to act normal so as to convince myself I wasn't going crazy. But when I would have attacks and I noticed people couldn't tell I got even more scared that I was going crazy. I started telling people that I felt weird and sometimes even drastically say, 'this is bad' and leave the room because it was the only way I could SHOW that there was something going on. I wasn't about to hurt myself or anything, but I became desperate to explain to people that though I'm talking normal, I look normal I act normal, my syntax is correct and my response is regular that there was something TERRIBLY WRONG. People just didn't get it. I felt sooo alone. Finally I just gave up. Then, out of nowhere a friend called me. She was crying and she said, "It wont stop" I immediately KNEW what she was referring to without her saying anything more. I was concerned for her but I also felt relief. She started saying some of the symptoms that I had had and I finally felt like someone might know the anguish. We talked for a while and I wanted to find out what caused it. The only thing we could come up with besides environmental factors was that it happened after we smoked pot. Well, I grew up in Santa Cruz California where it is almost sacrilegious to say anything negative about marijuana. No one has ever OD'd off of it, it's natural, better than smoking cigarettes, pot should be used for mental health issues. I had NEVER heard (except from the random right wing "Reefer madness" type) that pot was detrimental (heh heh detri-MENTAL) in any way. If anything it was a cure all and those who disagreed were just scared and ignorant. We agreed though that it was pot. I said we should have a word for it. (At this time I had NO clue what to call it) I started thinking out loud. "Hmmm, After smoking pot... A.S.P." My friend said, "A.S.P., Asp. asp." Being a huge Simpsons fan I took it to "Aspodoodelywoodely!" We laughed and from that moment on it was known to us as "Flanders Syndrome". So yeah people, the scientific name for what we have is Flanders Syndrome. Named after a cartoon character. 

When I'd try to ask why is this happening I'd sometimes feel like I'm fighting a losing battle that I've only won because I'm not dead. But the battle is still raging. And yet I can't feel it. How does that make sense?

Life
Throughout the years, because of my mentality and also by chance and fate I have been...privy to other traumas. Besides the fire I mentioned previously, growing up was a challenge. I somehow, did a strip tease when I was about 5 years old. about 5 neighborhood boys told me to do it. I remember not understanding what was wrong. This memory is still confusing to me. 
School was horrible. I hated being told what to do and when to do it. Trying to please people and I already mentioned the kids. Being bullied is probably still one of the bigger issues I've had that I need to address. It breaks my heart to see people who don't understand what it can do to a kid.
We were so poor that there were months where we wouldn't have electricity. At the time it was only a little annoying, I thought it was an adventure and loved having a fire every night, but it does kind of sum up how broke we really were. No T.V., sometimes no phone or car or even food. If we did have a car it was like Uncle Buck's and I would get super embarrassed when my mom would (IF my mom would) pick me up. Our house was like a hoarder house. I never had friends over and it was disgusting and embarrassing. We lived in filth. We did however have to clean it up at least once a year. We were always fearing becoming homeless because we had a yearly inspection and my Mom always told us we were going to lose our house. My mom yelled a lot. She only spanked us a few times, but she was addicted to yelling. When I was younger, I was terrified of getting taken away from my Mom. Later on, I wanted to leave so bad that I ran away a few times.
I was sexually assaulted when I was 15 and it was actually through this that I've been able to get on meds and get a therapist. The local victim witness program would pay for it. 
I've struggled with addiction and abusive relationships. My DR/DP actually kept me from digging too deep a hole with my addiction in a way. I definitely used drugs and other outside influences to change the way that I felt, yet my DR/DP scared me from doing certain drugs certain ways. Somehow I got lucky enough to change. (8 years clean!)
In 2007 my brother was in a head on collision with his new wife and they both died. This has been a HUGE thing. My grief is still raw around this and I've often wondered if there is a relation to lack of acceptance and DR/DP and grief. 
I was homeless for a bit. Had my family and friends all turn away from me. This was sooo hard, but it taught me a valuable lesson. That just because people love and care about you, doesn't mean they are responsible for your well being. You have to realize that there's only so much pain that someone can deal with in regards to watching you hurt yourself. I still feel like I was abandoned when I needed someone the most, but I HAVE to believe they still loved me and I just needed to find my own way. Once they saw that I was willing to do the work, I felt them show up again. I have amazing, caring, loving relationships now.
Right after my brother died, I felt like I just attracted death. My grandpa died, some celebrity died, and good friend died another celebrity... It's never ending. It seems like since then almost every week or even every day I hear about either someone I know or someone they know dies. I blame my old lifestyle (When your friends are/were addicts, you have to be around a lot of death), getting older and technology. Facebook carries news fast. I wonder when someone will be reading about me on Fb. With sad faces and "RIP". It freaks me out. I went from being adventurous and okay with the idea of death, to fearing it. When I think about it, it's not death I fear as much as what will happen after. Through my DR/DP I am so afraid that I will die and wake up in an alternate reality, universe or realize I was just an alien playing a video game, or, well, you get the idea. I'm mostly afraid of feeling the fear for all eternity. Sometimes I feel like living on earth is actually what some religious people call hell. Like everything IS fake and I'm just here learning and facing my karma. Maybe when I die and become a spiritual being no fear will exist. Ah, to be fearless again!

Semi-recovery
I have never fully recovered. I think I have not gone more than 3 days without having some type of episode. It could be just a bit of anxiety but it has been constant in my life for decades now. I am on disability for it. This is really embarrassing for me. I HATE not living a normal life and feel judged and pitied and looked down on because of it. I've had to learn to stop comparing myself to others, but I still struggle with the disabled stigma/social acceptability part.
After YEARS of suffering I finally started calling it (to the layman) an anxiety disorder. If I had an episode I'd just say, "I'm having an anxiety attack" which was only half true, I'd be having DP/DR and THEN have that crazy insane fearful anxiety that always followed, always seems to be a part of it. Some people get off on being out of themselves, but I feel intense FEAR, no pleasure at all. I joined a support group (for something else) and through that learned a lot about myself and coping tools. It felt good to be around people with similar experiences, yet I CRAVED finding someone who could relate to my on THIS issue. This dark little aspect of my life that ruled me and hurt me so deeply.

I am of the belief that we do have moments of reprieve even if we don't feel like we do. I feel like we "forget" how bad it is REALLY when we're not IN a major attack, when we do have one we feel like we've actually been having it all along. We feel like we've been fooling ourselves and that in truth, even though I say I've been suffering from it for years, I have had moments of relief. I have felt semi-normal.  And in hindsight, I have to say I have "FELT" feelings, joy and grief. Is it muted? Yes. Does it feel really real? Maybe not 100%. But it's not the full fledged crazy whomp-whomp out of my head insanity 24-7. Those attacks of debilitating DR/DP and the fear of them are what ruin my life the rest of the time. Like I did before, I acted out of 'out-of-sight-out-of-mind'. I would push DR/DP out and try to live a normal life. I'd have days, sometimes weeks of REAL BAD DP/DR. I would lose my job and usually wind up going to the emergency room where they'd give me fluids and a pill and I would semi-recover enough to forget how bad it is and try to do it all again. This went on FOR YEARS. It got to the point where my loved ones just couldn't understand it. They couldn't comprehend that I could be so outgoing and normal and then freak out. I was called a "drama queen" and told to "just relax" I was told that I was just making it all up and that I just need to take a bath. I eventually stopped doing all drugs (I LIKED Adderall and alcohol to self medicate, but these turned on me) I stopped drinking caffeine. I started taking care of myself a little better, and started at least paying attention to certain aspects it was like I had been oblivious to all these years. I started having overwhelming awareness over who I am, what I'm doing and while it has helped in some ways the obsessive intruding thought process is sooo tiring. I think WAY TOO MUCH! I finally humbled myself to get on medication. I made a deal with myself that I would get on medication and work on myself to get rid of the cause of my mental health stuff so that I could get off of medication. I told myself it was a temporary means to an end. Ugh. I did medication bingo for YEARS. I would take a med, go through the initial shock to my system (usually always making my DP/DR worse) until I evened out and found that it either didn't work or I had gnarly side-effects. So I'd have to semi-wean off of one and try another and then do the 2-4 week detox/buildup until I found that they didn't work or I had gnarly side effects. It got to the point that after YEARS of trying, I was getting more than frustrated. I also have never been diagnosed with DP/DR. It's always Depression, Anxiety Disorder even a so-called "professional" acted like I was just making it all up for attention. I see it now as a good thing, but it still embarrasses me and it was painful, but during this one round of bingo they put me on a med I immediately had a physical reaction to. Because of my symptoms I figured I needed to stick with it for at least a little while because maybe it was just all in my head (crazy how we have to either think we're dying or think that our feelings are invalid) I finally said something to the Doc and she said to STOP taking the drug. cold turkey. I had what I think is was a psychotic reaction. I not only freaked out mentally, but I was scared of hurting myself! I cried and reached out to friends and when I felt like they weren't getting it I took the leap to actually hurting myself. They took me to the Behavioral Health Unit and the people there, not knowing me, didn't think I was "bad enough". I was sooo scared. I was climbing out of my skin and emotionally inconsolable and insane. I went across the way to a cemetery where my brother happens to be buried. I laid on his gravestone, desperate. I started banging my head on his gravestone. I remember thinking, I just want this to stop. Why wont it stop. It's not getting better and no one believes me! They can't see it because I'm not "crazy" enough but my anguish and fear was so intense. I didn't trust myself and I barely had the strength to even admit that to my friend. I was thinking, random horrible thoughts about how I shouldn't say anything, I should just do something drastic. And BECAUSE I would say something first, I wasn't believed. So I did something. I tried to physically manifest my pain. They took me back to the BHU and my friend had to literally BEG for them to take me. She had to repeat over and over that THIS is now who I am and I had never been this way before. My medical history of anxiety attacks and depression was working against me. Instead of seeing me how I was, I was just 'doing what we, the insane, do" but I had NEVER done this before. I feel so horrible for those whom are bi-polar and feel like people don't understand them. All mental health patients have to deal with people belittling their experience. Eventually, they admitted me. Through it all I finally got a psychiatrist who gave me a med cocktail that worked. She never once mentioned DP/DR and kind of was the type to listen and record, but hey, I wasn't having DP/DR as bad and I was relieved. Even if I KNEW it wasn't depression, that's the only explanation they had for me. I knew that what I felt was fear more than sadness, so I focused more on the anxiety disorder, even though every time I read about anxiety it didn't have the experiences that I had as part of the clinical explanation. I started feeling more normal than I had in a while. But then something happened. I started to feel what REAL depression was. It was almost like now that my biggest problem was out of the way, my mind felt safe enough to bring on the depression. It wasn't textbook depression. With that, people seem to still be able to function and hold down a job. It was severe. I wasn't crying all the time, or even all that sad. I just became agoraphobic, couldn't leave the house. I didn't want to deal with people and became super cynical of the world. My only means of communication and interaction became Facebook. Pathetic. I would fool myself and leave every so often, but I stopped enjoying the things I had been doing. I stopped "trying" to "connect" with people. I just felt like life was fine as long as I could just be alone. I wouldn't have to worry about friends and family dying or getting hurt because I wasn't close to them. It sounds weird, and totally selfish, but I didn't want to have to deal with seeing the people I care about get hurt. It was too painful FOR ME. Then I practiced self-loathing and guilt and shame for being that way. But it still wasn't enough to want to DEAL with people. People were too exhausting. Putting clothes on was too exhausting. Trying to interact like a normal human being is too exhausting! But I started pushing myself and I eventually pulled geographic and moved away and fell in love and then found myself able to isolate even more! Muhuhahaha! When you move to a place no one knows you, it's really easy. They only person I GOT to deal with was my boyfriend. I would push myself for him and for a while I really was able to at least look like a normal human being. But then I had an experience where I had a flashback of when I was bullied as a child. I was relentlessly bullied. I had the idea to kill myself before it was ever heard of a child killing them self. I had the idea to go to the school and hurt the mean kids and then hurt myself to show them how painful it was. No one was able to do anything and I'd come home crying every day. At one point about 25 kids ripped my first bra off of me and threw it around as I frantically tried to get it back. It sucked and I while I knew I had to address it more head-on someday, I had successfully pushed it back for a while. It was an abrupt reality check when I had a bullying experience and it took me right back. I started getting VERY cynical. I started judging everything about everyone. People could do no good and those who did were doing it only for selfish reasons. Very dark place. That's when my boyfriend proposed to me. Talk about a brave man. I also started feeling physically sick.

Today
Self care for me IS an issue. I don't know how to do it perfectly to this day. I'll think about doing something, like washing my face, even brushing my teeth, and then think of other things obsessively until I forget about it and rationalize and justify not doing it. I can't understand the importance of doing certain things for myself. If it hurts, I'll deal with it. But I the weird part is, I have a high tolerance for pain because I'm so out of my body, yet when I focus on something, I FEEL it, really feel each cell aching and then I obsess on it and then, of, course, I think I'm dying. The sad part about all this is I am in a place right now where I have found another vicious cycle. I am scared of doctors now, but I'm also a semi-hypochondriac. I say "semi" because I'm well aware that it's probably all in my head, but since that Aids scare as a kid I still have that sense of impending doom feeling where I go, "well, maybe I don't have cancer, YET!" Ugh. So I practice avoidance for a few reasons, one, because I don't want to think I'm dying and then go there and remove all doubt. While I'm living in hell thinking it's a possibility, I somehow think it would be worse to actually KNOW I had some crazy disease. Two, because (not all) MOST, like, a lot, like a majority, like only 2 out of the 30 I've seen weren't, like, it's almost like a fad for doctors to be this way, are either really fed up with their jobs or are literally too dumb to comprehend that they might not know everything. To this day I have not once had a doctor tell me I have DP/DR and while I know I do, I'm afraid that if I talk to one and because they have no clue what it is they'll think I'm making it up. I've noticed a kind of low-lidded calm frustration from doctors who are sick and tired of WebMD causing their patients who think they know more than them. I can see how frustrating and annoying it would be to have self-diagnosed hypochondriacs telling them how to do their job. The thing is, most doctors are unable to distinguish who is full of shit and who has a valid complaint. Add having any type of mental issue and welcome to "Ignoreville". About a year and a half ago I was traveling and I started to feel weird. I felt "heady" and like I had a fever, but without the fever. I was tired and felt like I was coming down with something that wasn't quite able to take over my immune system. I was still able to be active and so I'd just push it away. Then I started having random pains in my abdomen and digestive issues. I lost over 30 pounds in less than 8 weeks. Even though I had known something was off for a while, no one paid attention until there was a physical symptom they could see. I went to the Doctor and they referred me to a Gerontologist. Ugh. Colonoscopys and Endoscopys are NOT fun. Especially for someone with DR/DP. They didn't find anything. They said because they couldn't see anything that they would diagnose me with IBS. The Doc explained that it's pretty normal for my sex and age group. He said that it is a blanket diagnosis and that they don't really know what causes it or what. It "could" be related to anxiety though. And then he gave me a prescription for the symptoms and sent me on my way. I started thinking about my future and how now that I'm getting married I'd want to start a family some day. I did the impossible; I quit smoking!!!!! Smoking was my go-to. Smoking was a part of my identity. I HATED it, with a passion, and really was disgusted with my dependence. But, it was the only thing I knew that helped me when I'd have an episode. It was my constant. I don't know how I did it, but I'm pretty sure obsessively working on the wedding plans helped. I NEVER thought I'd be "that guy" but hey, it helped me quit smoking, so I focused my little ass off on that one day. I wanted to quit smoking at least a year before getting preggers but I also wanted to be off of all meds. With my therapists blessing I started weaning off my miracle med cocktail. I knew it would be hard and I was worried that my REALLY BAD DR/DP would come back, but I stuck with it. Like getting on them I was prepared for some episodes while the meds left my system and just hoped and prayed that the therapy I had done had either ended my BAD episodes or would make them at least more controllable. Also, because of the nature of how it works, I fooled myself into thinking worse case scenario I suffer through it until the baby comes bouncing out and gets weaned. 
Well, the depression got worse. I didn't stop taking all my meds, just 2 of the 3 and then I added a sleep med instead of an anti-psychotic as my sleep med that I could wean off easier later. I chalked it up to the wedding planning and the moving and the travel honeymoon planning and all the outside stuff that I was irritable, insecure and insane. I figured the so-called "IBS" was contributing to the issue. By the way, I did not take those meds for my symptoms. Not a fan of using a pill to hide something. Anyway, the IBS wasn't as bad and I had all these real-life stressors to use as an excuse of how I was feeling. I started crying at EVERYTHING. multiple times a day. Now, I've heard this before, but dude, it's ANNOYING. I literally lost friends because of my over-sensitivity. Where I was judgmental of others before I had now lost all faith in the human race. I started focusing on all the negativity in the world, everything horrible about our planet. and all the while having a head full of trying to be spiritual and peaceful and accepting and basically beating myself up for beating myself and others up. I was so sensitive I felt like John Coffee (sp?) from The Green Mile. I felt like I could just feel all the pain and hate and anger and sadness and fear in the world and it was just overwhelming. I couldn't help and it was all fake anyway! There's this weird thing with me where it's always the black and white, both sides of the extreme spectrum. How do you explain feeling all the pain, yet relate that you're also numb?!? I started becoming extremely insecure with my fiance. I was never "that guy" either. Always trying to be the 'cool' girlfriend and really not caring about the whole jealous thing and was glad it wasn't a part of me or my life. I pushed away and took pride in the fact that I was comfortable enough in my skin that I didn't have to feel jealousy or envy. And then I started doing it. I lost my sense of humor. I was so into vulgar, shock-value, cards-against-humanity humor that I was considered a little over board. I valued the fact that people could say anything around me and feel comfortable. There were a couple taboo subjects but instead of getting weird I would create dialogue and try and educate instead of hate. Almost nothing was sacred to me. Now here I am having Facebook rants over someone making a joke about my fiance being "pussy-whipped". Yes, I do value everything I said in response and I still stand by everything I said, but I was never this take-everything-serious-and-take-everything-personal guy before. I started isolating. Where I was once a loudmouth social butterfly to the point of annoying people, I've become a hermit. 
Long story...well...not AS long, we got rid of almost everything we had, drove across the country, got hitched, went on a 5 week honeymoon travelling around on trains in Europe (my life is fucking amazing today) and then moving across the ocean to the paradise that is Hawaii (See?) I figured now that I'm a wifey I needed to ovary-up and go see an OBGYN and start taking care of this random body I am in. (I wonder how many of us are co-dependant and do things for ourselves but for others) My noob husband went with me and held my hand. Not good. The doctor was AMAZING! I didn't mention my mental health stuff besides being scared of the appointment and wanting my husband there and so I felt like she didn't treat me with that arms-length-your-a-mental-patient attitude. The appointment was the day after our (my hubby and I have the same exact birthday) 33rd birthday on December 11th. The day after Xmas I get the telephone call. I have an abnormal pap. It's non-cancerous, but it's moderate to severe pre-cancerous cells that require a biopsy. She prepared me for endometriosis even though they didn't test for that (I guess they have to do more of a surgical test) so she warned me that starting a family might be difficult. This makes me sad. I can't think about it.
I am thousands of miles from all my friends and family. I have DR/DP. I have precancerous-cells. I'm freaking out. The thing about me is, I'm skeptic enough to understand that there is wishful thinking and placebo effects, but I'm also hippy enough to really believe that we can manifest certain aspects in life by our thinking. I'm not saying that I thought myself into pre-cancer. I'm saying that because of my fear, my DP/DR and focusing on my fear, my digestive system suffered. Doctors KNOW that we can and do sometimes get physical symptoms because of our minds. The racing heart, the clammy hands, breaking out in sweat, weird pains. We do this. I am freaking out because I'm freaking out. I am fearful that my fear is harming me physically and that fear is probably harming me physically! This, at least, is one of the vicious cyclical thoughts that I'm suffering from right now and one of the reasons I looked for help. I am having the BAD DR/DP. For days now I have not been able to do much of anything. Yesterday I pushed myself because i had previously agreed to pick up someone from the airport. I forced myself to get out of my head and it was good, but, I forget how good it is if I force myself to do that. If it's for someone else and I committed to do something, most of the time I can do it. (Kind of why I stopped committing to things, avoidance) Besides yesterday though, it's been a chore. I don't want to leave the house. AND I'M IN HAWAII!!!! My go-to has always been smoking, which I'm ALMOST ready to do after over a year (that would be insane) or video games (I found this awesome Harry Potter online one). The nights are hardest as far as being in my head goes. I'm still doing the pass out thing but I have a little help from a small dose of Ambien. Since this started though it's been hell. I feel like I'm going to die in my sleep and/or really feel the "fakeness" and phoniness of the world. Why do we sleep anyways? Stupid thoughts and feelings haunt me. I've been waking up with a racing heart and the desperate plea that I can keep my eyes closed and wake up again and it will be gone. But I can't do it for long or I start feeling a weird sensation that I'm slowly disappearing. I want this to stop. Writing all this is totally helping. This site has given me hope. That friend of mine only had Flanders Syndrome for a few months. She's been better for years but I always thought maybe she was just fooling herself or maybe she never had it to begin with. after reading the stories on here I have hope again. I see other people describing MY symptoms! I FINALLY have a diagnosis! I finally have something I can point to and say "That!" That's what I have. I have to especially shout out to those who are better and still come on here. I have looked out there in the world periodically and would go to random mental health sites/chats if and when it got bad, only to get some support and when it was gone, never go back. It's the nature of this THING that makes us want to forget it and not think about it. We also forget how bad it was. For you to take the time to come back and give us hope that even those of us suffering from it for years can recover is inspiring and saving me. It HELPS me so much! 
Backing up a bit about feeling pain AND numbness. I don't know if it's because I've been dealing with this for a long time, but I think I have TRAINED myself to do certain things. I have trained myself to study an object, a person, a concept, a feeling, whatever. I have tried to intellectually and mentally categorize everything. I am able to feel fear and pain and sadness and such, but it's never REAL. It's like all part of the story. I am actually a little grateful for this when it comes to visual stuff. I have visual snow ALL THE TIME. It used to scare me so much I stopped looking up into the sky. It seemed worse there. But my observation skills are ridiculous at times. I can be so meticulous and sensitive to something that it can either drive me crazy (like when I'm dealing with people) or it can be great (like when I notice colors, strokes of a paintbrush, etc) I feel like I was blind to this ability to see for a long time and I can only do it if I try, otherwise everything is just fuzzy and like looking through a glass. Even the stuff I study is through the glass, but just noticing the details makes it better. It's things like this that make me question if DR/DP is on the Autism spectrum. When I first read about Autism I thought it's what I had! Just a mild form that flares up or something. I think it would be interesting to see if there was any scientific correlation. In dealing with people the past couple years I've definitely felt Aspbergers-ish instead of being able to have a comfortable interaction. Especially with strangers and acquaintances. All in all, and another way for me to beat myself up, is I would say that all this stems from self-centered fear. We are COMPLETELY self obsessed when we're having an episode. And then when we're not, we're so fearful of the next one, we have to plan and avoid and basically live our lives with this THING that debilitates us. Because of it's nature we have to DENY it. Do you know how helpful it would have been to have this information when I was a kid? Can you imagine what my life would be like if I didn't have this?!? I was destined for something, but not being on disability and isolating with no friends. We NEED to get the awareness out there! It's our job. I always say that I would NEVER wish DR/DP on ANYONE! Not my worst enemy! Not anyone! Yet I am facilitating the ignorance by not speaking out and helping others and getting it out there somehow. While this sounds evil and I would never actually choose this if I could, I have to admit something. I have had a moment or two where, if I KNEW it wouldn't effect them after and they would be fine again, that I would want someone who's never felt it to feel it for a second. Not even a second, half a second. Just because I am sick and tired of not being able to explain how it feels. It might actually get someone to stand up and say, "WOAH! THIS IS PAINFUL! LETS HELP!" Self advocating is not my strong suit.

I wanted to add something about 'triggers'. I only know a few. 
Drugs.
Pretty much every drug, including brain meds are scary to take and make me paranoid. The only ones I know help are benzo's, but being an addict I can't take these. It's soooo hard when you are in HELL but you can't take the one thing you know will help. I have taken them a few times when it's gotten real bad. I believe it's intent, not content, we don't have to suffer. but it's only a last resort and if Im at my wits end. 
Eating. 
After I eat, it hits me. Even when I was on all my meds it would happen. Very mild, but I would just go smoke a cigarette and be okay. Now it's pretty bad again. I've wondered if maybe my numb body is chemically sensitive and it triggers something. besides that I choked on food once but I don't remember it haunting me for days right after or anything. There are also certain foods that aggravate it. Not sure if it's just because I believe it (Placebo effect) or if there's something to it, but I avoid certain things for sure.
Being forced to sleep.
If I'm at someone else's house and it's "bedtime" I start freaking out. I have a routine and, embarrassingly enough, I have my blanket from when I was a little kid. It was the possession I got after the fire and the smell of it when I fall asleep is comforting. As long as I have it I can feel at least semi "at home". I still pass out every night. My pattern has gotten WAY better. I used to stay up past at lest 2 EVERY night and then sleep in past noon every day. I could NOT break out of this cycle and for a LONG time it was one of my biggest issues. I go to bed early now (it makes me feel old though) but I'm still reading or on my phone or doing something until my eyes start closing on their own. I cant just lay there still and silent. That is the WORST. I know this is a vicious cycle too, but I gotta go with what works. I do alot of self massage at night too. No, not THAT. I will rub my own back, legs, arms, etc. This is actually probably something that might help people with DR/DP because it helps me feel my body. A lot of the time I feel either only the being the masseuse OR getting the massage, but it's a comforting practice.
Ahem, what I refer to as "Mind Fuck" movies.
The Sixth Sense? I thought I was dead. Vanilla Sky? I thought I was dead. Even What Dreams May Come messed me up. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind got to me a bit. I will not watch The Butterfly Effect, Momento, or other alternate reality movies. The Matrix was interesting in that it gave me an outlet to try and explain to people what my DR/DP is like, but it too was a bit problematic. The one movie I forced myself to watch multiple times in one of my brave Desensitization attempts was Inception. Love it (I loved most of these) but it still effs me up.
Thinking about it.
Just talking about it puts me in a mode. You might be thinking, well, how in the hell did I write all this? Well, thankfully I'm in a numb mode. Every so often when I pause I'll look up and it will hit me, but I'm noticing I'm calmer and I think this is actually therapeutic and helping. When I try to explain it to someone though, it'll happen. It usually doesn't turn into a really bad episode, but it's scary still. 
Time.
There is a weird thing that happens with time for me. I was reading in another thread about how time seems to work differently with DR/DP. This is not only a trigger but symptom I think. If I think about time. The passing of it, the existence of it, I freak out. I actually can't type more about it right now even though I have a bit more to say cuz I'm getting a little freaked out.
Illness/Injury.
What can I say? I feel like I'm dying and because of the fear dying is a bad thing. I have been having horrible chest pains and stomach pains for about a week now. Because of the other stuff that's going on I'm convinced it's a symptom that's being looked over like my other stuff was of something that needs to be addressed. If only I could just go to a Doctor or have one come here. Living on an island with limited resources is not very comforting. There's also the "I'm going crazy" type of illness too. I used to think this one was worse, but now one feeds the other and it's all messed up.
Family and Friends
Honestly, people are hard to think about. I focus on all the negative. I think of my Dad and I see him killing himself. I think of my sister and I think of how hard her life is. I think of my Mom and her husband and all the pain they must face. I really can't help but feel intense amounts of pain, and somehow guilt when I think of them. 
Thinking about my accomplishments.
I've done a lot. I was a model, i've travelled, despite my DR/DP I have really tried to live life. But it's not enough. I have a bit of a grandiose complex where I feel like I can not leave this world until I do something to make it better. I need to be able to effect the whole world in a positive way and I really feel like I haven't done enough. When I was a kid I wanted to be an actress. Yes I loved attention, but really, that story I wanted to tell, how deep I was, I wanted to be a success story. I wanted fame, but (mostly, I still enjoyed attention) only so I could touch more peoples lives with positivity. I wanted money, but only to use it to help others. I had this idea once that there was a little girl sitting on a stoop. She's silently crying and contemplating if she wants to live in this world. Then a plane flies overhead and drops (biodegradable) papers with affirmations and things like "it gets better" (This was before that awesome movement started) and "Don't give up" and "You are loved" written on them. I would think of the things that someone could do to make me feel better and then I would have the money and ability to do them. I've learned since that it wouldn't necessarily be to pay for THINGS, but to pay for growth. People give up and feel so alone. I hate that feeling, yet I feel it every day, all the time, so I would love the opportunity to help someone else. I've also learned when you're being of service to others, it helps you get out of your head. I've used this as a coping mechanism periodically. It's hard to do though. Sorry about the tangent. The point is, I thought, especially by this age, that I could do more. That I would be famous by now and have foundations and housing (where they wouldn't have to worry about being evicted all the time) and food for people. Instead I'm just sitting at home with a sheet wrapped around me in front of a computer. I feel like time is passing by and I'm wasting my life. Cant start thinking about the time thing again...

This leads to injustice
I think about the world and why it is the way it is. I think about how people can do the things that they do and I try to figure it out with compassion and understanding. Sometimes you just cant. Some people are broken and just don't get it. I believe people are all doing the best that they can. I think there are only a few REAL psycho evil people out there that cause harm just to cause harm. Most are doing it because of a belief and as a result of their experiences. I truly believe we are all on the same team and if we would just try to understand each other and explain to each other instead of blame and attack we would be much better off. Of course, this isn't how this is. And I wonder why. Which ultimately leads to
God and the meaning of life
I have pondered this over and over and over. I have come up with what I believe to be acceptable and believable concepts. I say believable because it has taken quite a bit for me to believe in a Higher Power of some kind. But when I think about this HP being indifferent, it scares the shit out of me. I think of how unreal everything is and that everything that happens might not be a lesson and that there's just chaos and a void and it freaks me the eff out. I already mentioned them and maybe they deserve their own heading, but aliens freak me out. I had a moment where I was thinking about everyone on here and thought maybe we've all been abducted or something. Maybe that's whats going on. Insanity. But I truly believe after we die, we'll find this stuff out. If I don't retain my individuality it scares me. Or at least it scares my ego. It's so hard to tap into your spiritual self when fear has you gripped in a never ending loop of DR/DP.

In conclusion, (if you've made it this far you're my hero), I am 33 years old and I've been suffering from this almost my whole life. I'm going in for an ultrasound on the 16th and a biopsy on the 26th and I am scared. Instead of being able to calm myself down (or try to) with "Nothing is actually wrong. It's all in your head" I just hear, "something IS wrong. You have cancer. You are dying." Not the kind of affirmations that will actually help...
One aspect of this episode is thinking that there is a way to... accept(?) DR/DP. That there might be a spiritual solution that I can't see or get. I have weird thoughts that there is an answer that will solve it all. BUT, once I find out, I'll have completed my lesson on earth and then I will die. Like in submitting to DR/DP and accepting the fear and death, I accomplished what I needed to. It's like Donnie Darko, once I'm okay with this and dying, I will die, BUT I DON'T WANT TO DIE YET. It's like I feel like the thing I need to do to get better is what will kill me. Meanwhile I feel like I'm killing myself because my worry has me having gnarly physical symptoms that I'm convinced now are cancer or some kind of brain aneurysm.
But this site has helped. I've been suffering for sooo long. Thinking I was alone. Somehow Wikipedia of all things taught me the word "dissociation" which led me to a search to come here. Thank God for that. I have to say that I've survived sickness, breakups, loss of friends, deaths, moving, weddings, addictions and yes, even Dr/DP. Sometimes I want to give up. It's weird, I spend all this time fearing death and then I would think about ending it all. Another black AND white phenomenon thing. I have wanted to move away to the forest and grow my own food and live away from people and everything so I can just focus on survival and feel alive that way, if possible. I've tried self-medicating and doctor medicating, talking about it, crying about it, denying it and even accepting it (no way Jose!) and every time it hit's me it still effects me the same way. I have a theory that when you're in it, you're in it and there's ways to avoid it or lessen it, but if I work on myself and the issues that might be behind it it may get better. My other theory is that to get over it you have to NOT think about it. The trick is just learning how to avoid the triggers and letting ourselves let it envelop us. Kind of another juxtapose. Sometimes it's just waiting out the storm. Most of the time that's what it is. What I have learned to to focus on the positive. Hard to do when your mind is not your friend. But once we realize we are not our minds we can feel a little tinge of freedom from it or hope that might give us the strength to carry on. I can't wait for this to stop. 
___________

I wrote this a few days ago. I'm doing A LOT better now though this episode is still lingering. I feel strange about this because it's so personal and detailed. I have left some stuff out (you wouldn't be able to tell) but it is pretty complete as far as my episodes go. I haven't included many of my experiences with ALL the meds I tried, nor did I get much into my spirituality (or sometimes lack thereof) but I'm hoping to be a part of this website so I hope to share and help others with it and explore more of that with like-minded people.

Thanks for reading. Hit me up with any questions or anything. More importantly, thanks for being here.

-Ayla


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## Guest (Jan 9, 2015)

Thanks for sharing your story Ayla! Welcome to the forum, it really is wonderful to find like minded peoples. When I first found this forum it was after 6 years of thinking I was alone! I lovingly dubbed everyone here "DPeople"...(which didn't catch on). Anyway, I found a lot of similarities in your writing, and you are not alone! Stay true and know that you are a warrior!


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## Guest (Jan 10, 2015)

Welcome Ayla, we talked briefly in chat, and Dave, the DPeople is gonna catch on now that I know about it. Just. You. Wait.


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