# Where am I now?



## Neko (Feb 18, 2006)

Hello all. I've never made a post concerning my own DP story before, but I think I'll write it now to give a little insight into my struggle, and my slow recooperation. This is pretty much the whole enchilada of my DP, but since I'm making great progress I think this would give some hope to some of you. 

I'll start at the very beginning. I remember short, but disturbing periods throughout my later grade school years in which I felt something very strange and, at the time, indescribable. It would happen suddenly. I would happen to be walking somewhere in my house, or at the movies with a friend, somewhere familiar. I would stop and freeze. A sudden terror would pang in me and I would wonder if I was real. To 'normal' people, this would sound confusing and silly (I'm sure we've ALL dealed with that before), but I was afraid. I would keep telling myself I was real. I am real, I am real, I am real. I'm here. Luckily, these only lasted from an hour to, oh, say, a few days at most. At this point, I wasn't very philosophical about it, so I wouldn't dwell on it (which we all know does nothing but worsens the DP).

My childhood was fine. My parents, though they have their flaws, were extremely loving and never abused me. My brothers are a crazy bunch of kids, but we're close. I had friends and a church family and I had fun.

One oddity about me, though, was my shyness and seperation anxiety. As a kid, I got very afraid if my parents weren't in full view. For example, I would nearly have a panic attack if my mom left me in the car to run a few papers in. I _knew_ that was crazy--my mom loved me and would never abandon me in the car--but I still couldn't help how terrified I was. I also had passing phobias, such as the house starting on fire. I would dream of it constantly, and would be afraid to sleep incase the house did start on fire.

Another was that I used to have extreme night terrors. I would be up (or down) all night, screaming. This passed after preschool, but I'm still an extremely vivid and emotional dreamer.

Things started to take a turn for the worst when I got to 8th grade. Some of the boys in my class were very mean. They called me names. I have a hunch that they were just trying to hurt me. It worked. I had never been self-concious before about my appearance. Now my self-esteem had dropped to zero. Almost frantically, I started wearing makeup, plucking my eyebrows, buying tight clothes, getting a flattering haircut. And I have to say, I did look a lot better (I had been somewhat of a tomboy for a few years after the cute little girl stage). This, however, didn't improve my self-esteem at all, even though so many people said I was beautiful. I fretted over inane details--my nose most of all because of a few snide comments, even though it was fine and there was nothing I could do about it.

About the middle of 8th grade, I developed type 1 diabetes. This is the rarer kind of diabetes where your pancreas shuts down completely. There is no cure, and as such I had to begin injecting myself with insulin anytime I ate something. At first it was very difficult to control for me. I was so used to eating loads of sugary foods whenever I want. On the inverse, I had to be careful when I exercised because it can cause blood sugar to drop very low and force me to eat to bring it back up. This added more stress and shock to my already full plate of concern.

By the end of the summer after 8th grade, I became depressed. It was the first time, I believe, that I sank into true depression. I couldn't sleep, and I wept often. I had a hard time merely socializing with people. At this time I was very afraid of new experiences, and high school was coming up soon. I was terrified at the prospect of going to a new, bigger school (my eighth grade class was 11--a record for my small private school). Luckily, once I got there, it wasn't so bad and I actually enjoyed myself for a while--until I was crestfallen by an unrequited love. I sunk into "lover's depression"--not real, I suppose, but I felt I would never get over it. And of course, I did, only to be led on by someone, fall in love and then have him join with his ex again. Sigh.

Now I'm in junior year. This is when the story gets sticky. It was the end of Christmas vacation. My first day back to school was a bad one. I figured the next day would be ok. But it wasn't. The whole rest of the week was terrible, though I tried to cheer myself up with happy music and fun stuff. Nothing seemed to work. Then one night, I was talking to one of my friends online. He mentioned college and something about making friends, nothing too important. I started crying--hard. From there it became more like frenzied hysteria--my breathing was fast and irregular, my chest couldn't stop shaking, and nothing was calming me down. I felt sad and panicked, but I didn't exactly know why. It took me a few hours to calm myself enough to lay down, and another hour to fall asleep.

By the time the weekend rolled around, I couldn't get up. I laid down on the couch in the living room, crying and shaking and pondering life and what it meant. I have always been a quiet, reflective, contemplative person, but never had so many strange questions about the very basic things. Who am I? What do I like? Why is this my family? My friends? How can I handle this? I felt so lost. My closest friends and family seemed like strangers to me. I walked around like a robot--my brain told my body what to do, but I had no say in it. The idea of my soul residing in my body was completely foreign. Why should my soul live in a body? Why can't it go elsewhere?

This wouldn't shake off like it had before. I progressively grew deeply, darkly depressed. I didn't comb my hair, half-heartedly slapped makeup on, wore slumpy clothing, and mostly ignored my friends when I had to go to school. Walking through the hallways was a scary challenge for me. The walls and the people seemed to swirl around, to daze and disorient me. I was exausted, physically and mentally. I could hardly pay attention in class--and I have always been an alert A student. For a while, I came close to crying every single day (and did a few times). Things I used to love, video game, painting, exercising, socializing...none of it appealed. My goal at the end of the school day was to get home, throw on pajamas and lay on the couch, wrapped up.

My mother was disturbed at the turn I had taken. Since we have a long history of bipolar and depression in my family, she asked if I would like to see a psychiatrist. She and my brothers all have one. I said yes, and she scheduled an appointment. He diagnosed me with major depression and gave me a prescription for 20 mg of citalopram (Celexa).

It was around this time that I scavenged the internet for something that would explain my DP symptoms. I knew I was depressed, but I had a feeling not all depressed people had my symptoms. As I was looking on various disorders, I stumbled onto DP SelfHelp. I was flabbergasted. I read all the symptoms, and they fit what I was feeling to a T. THIS was what I was feeling. Though I was still terrified by the strange thoughts and feelings my mind conjured up, I had a degree of relief. I wasn't crazy. I wasn't making this feeling up. It was something legitimate, something painful, something lots of other normal, intelligent people like me were feeling and suffering with.

I took my Celexa and for a while I was feeling better. A week after, though, my depression and DP sunk to even lower depths. I cried uncontrollably. My art class went to the cities to tour a museum, one of my favorite places to be in the whole world, and the whole time I was shaking and on the brink of tears, unable to enjoy any of the amazing artwork. As soon as I got home, I did the loudest, longest crying I ever did. Then I just lay there, stunned....unable to process anything because my DP was so bad. I was starting to feel suicidal. After all, if the rest of my life would be like this hell, it wasn't worth living.

I went back to my doctor in an emergency appointment and he reassured me and upped my citalopram to 40 mg. After a few weeks of this, I did see an improvement. Thus far, I haven't had any major lows. The DP was still with me, however, and it was dampering many aspects of my life. I was tired of things being surreal.

At my next appointment, my doctor gave me a sample pack of lamotrigine (Lamictal). I've been taking that in conjuntion with my citalopram, and here is the happy news: I am getting better!

I have only been on the Lamictal for about six weeks (just made my way up to 100 mg) but I've been doing a whole lot better. While I can't wait for school to be out, I'm pretty cheerful and able to complete my work. I have no problems being friendly and just talking with people. I'm back into my interests and even looking into learning about new ones this summer, as well as perhaps getting a summer job. My creativity surges magnificently again.

I'm not 'cured' or anything, though; at least not yet. What I am feeling is an ability to do the things I need to and like to do, something I couldn't do when I was shaking and completely DP-ed out. If I get too introspective though, I feel quite sad again, and I tend to space out and have a DP feeling come over me. I'm hoping some CBT I'm taking soon will help me a bit with that. Bright flourecent lights, wide white walls and crowds of people really bother me too. Wal-Mart is my hell, LOL.

For those desperate for some 100% real advice, I can tell you about what helped me. First of all, get thyself to a psychiatrist! There is absolutely no shame in this, nor is it harmful if you get a good one (which I was lucky enough to get because my family knew him). If you don't like them, switch. If you cannot afford one, contact your local public services. Many have programs for those who can't afford it themselves.

(I was also lucky in this respect to have a family that understands what mental illness can do. My mother's whole side has had a strong line of bipolar, so she wasn't shy in getting me help. If your guardians are in doubt, explain to them calmly that what you're feeling ISN'T some wild fantasy or lack of sleep or whatever. Do what you can to help them understand.)

Next: keep yourself active. You've probably read this a bazillion times by now, but languishing in bed is just going to make it a lot harder to get back up. Force yourself to get up, make coffee, get out the door, say hi, go to school or work, do something nice for someone else, do something nice for yourself. I know how hard this is when you don't even know where your soul is, but you have to keep going.

On the inverse, don't take more than you can handle. I did this and it was really tough on me for a while, probably worse than it needed to be. I got involved and buried into so many extracurriculars that I didn't have an adequate amount of chill/alone time (and as an introvert, I REALLY need this to be able to face people enjoyably). Take it slow. Work your way up. Once you get comfortable with something, maybe look at adding a little bit. Routine is good and can be comforting.

If you don't have a pet, that can help. Snuggling with my cat with a book or the TV always helped to calm my nerves.

Be careful about your diet. I ate a lot of crappy foods and they made me feel even worse. A good way to make sure your diet doesn't turn too sloppy is by simply not buying junk food in the first place. Exercise is great too, if you're up to it. I'm a DDR maniac and I just kind of dance on hard mode until I'm exhausted. The better your body feels, the easier it is for your brain to feel better too.

I'm a Christian. Praying and worshiping God always calmed me when I got really afraid.

Last, don't dwell on your thoughts. At first this is probably impossible if you're neck deep in DP and you have a philosophical nature like mine, but you can't allow yourself to focus on it. DP isn't your life--it's just a nasty virus that won't go away, like a cold. It might disable you for a while, and it might come back again, but it doesn't define who you are, and you can knock it out with doing the right stuff.

If you have questions about my experience or advice I would be enthralled to reply.


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## tallgirl (Nov 16, 2005)

Hi Neko,

It was great to read your message, I am really pleased things are improving for you, it sounds like you have really been through it the last few months. I found it really interesting reading about your early childhood as there are loads of things there I can relate to that I hadn't really connected with having DP. I too had terrible night terrors I still get them now at 27 but nowhere near as frequently, I was always convinced something bad would happen in the night and am still afraid of the dark! I also had really bad seperation anxiety and a fear of new situations. I am much much better now, my DP comes and go but generally has gone for good - just to say keep at it. I still get scared by new situations to this day but I've managed uni, travelling on my own and buying my own place and having a demanding job. Doing all of these have often been in tandem with really bad spells of DP but I've still got through it all and I'm certain others can as well.

good luck with the recovery


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