I best write this now whilst I'm in the mood for writing, otherwise I know I never will.
Let's start with some info on what I was like as a child.
-Very imaginative. Always drawing, never stopped. I was a talented artist, but I hated drawing things that existed. I loved to create vast fantasy landscapes, populated by the most fanatastic monsters imaginable. I would try to out do my last picture in terms of imagination, till by the age of nine I was drawing stuff that really did blow people away. Not necessarily in terms of technical ability, but in my ability to expand my mind far beyond what was normal for a child of that age (no I wasn't a genius).
-Always daydreaming, always.
-Somewhat paradoxically I've always been very sociable. Constantly in trouble for being the class clown.
-Yet I've always been very anxious. Had to sleep in the same bed as my mum from the age of five till I was ten. Very embarassing, but the thought of being the only one awake in the house scared the hell out of me, but mummy's bed was safe.
-Remember feelings of unreality towards my parents, very rare. The whole concept of 'my dad' or 'my mum' just seemed bizarre.
-But mostly a happy childhood. This allowed me to be extremely ambitious and creative.
-Became more science oriented when I got to high school. Gave up the drawing, and wanted to be a nuclear physicist or a marine biology.
-Increasing interest in physics. Thought I could break through to a higher plain of existence by studying it.
-Got to college age sixteen, and that's when things went horribly wrong.....
After a series of frankly minor disasters, poor exam results, minor debts incurred and small rows with friends, I had a nervous breakdown.
It was like being a frightened child all over again, except I couldn't climb into bed with mummy, cos' I was 6'4" and had wet dreams.
Feelings of terror were common, had no idea what a panic attack really was. Doubted there was a way out. But somehow I ploughed on, and had occasional periods of feeling ok. Terrified of going on meds, so I avoided the doctor.
Regrettably I spoke to my parents several times about my feelings. They gave unrealistic advise, 'study harder' 'eat vegetables' 'help old people'.
They're good parents really, but 'tough love' can be tough.
This went on for nine months, then things got much, much worse.
I was strolling around central London with my cousin. We were smoking quite a lot of skunk (stronger than weed apparently). I suddenly had a panic attack, nothing new there. Except this one carried on, and on and on and on. But I just kept walking. It got very intense.
Terror, unimaginable terror. Here I was walking through some dull part of London with my cousin. It was the beginning of the summer holidays. I had been suffering from depression an dthe occasional panic attack for nine months now, and things had seemd to be getting better. But for some weird reason on this dull average uneventful evening I was experiencing this astronomical horror.
I almost pissed myself, I had to stop in the middle of the street and urinate. I was trembling and sweating and....well you get the point.
It started to slowly subside after about three hours. But what it left wasn't pretty.
This demonic force had ravaged my soul tainting it in a way I couldn't describe. Something was different. I began to have what I now come to call feelings of unreality. I've had pretty much every dp/dr feeling there is, so thee's no point specifying
I could only associate these new feelings with biblical, cosmological or extra dimenisonal phenomena, wahtevr the f*ck they are. Yet even these couldn't do it any justice. There has always beena need within me to probe as deep as I possibly can into my own mind, or just to probe deep in general. These feelings can not merely be depression, anxiety or even dp/dr. They have to be something infinately worse, and I mean infinately.
These feelings got worse over the next month.
I was sitting there one evening watching a film with my family, when all of a sudden the most horrific existential idea came into my head. I wont' bother explaining what it was, but needless to say I couldn't get rid of it. For the next week I sank into the deepest depression I'd evr experienced. It was and still is the worst week of my life. I went on paxil, which only made things worse. I wanted to kill myself. But I didn't.
After a week I started to feel better, yep' just like that. Really my mind is totally erratic, I myself can't understand how I can go from genuinely wanting to kill myself to feeling almost normal in the space of a few days.
Gave up paxil.
A month later I went on effexor. Threw that on to a train track after a few days. Asked the doctor if I could see a psychiatrist, he gave a very convincing nod and said that could be arranged. Nearly two years on and I'm still waiting.
The endless cycle of depression, anxiety, existential obsessing and occasionally feeling quite normal, went on.
Things eventually started to improve once I finished college (which is just an extension of high school here in Britain, not university).
I had been dabbling in martial arts since I was sixteen, and had now decided to train harder and more often. I became increasingly more interested and better motivated by martial arts. Something about it's superficial technical complexity, combined with the intense pain you experience throughout the lesson. I know it's a cliche but it makes me feel connected with my body, a healthier form of self harm. It's a passion, something I can devote my many hours of mental meandering towards. It's something I can work towards as well, something to give me identity, something to help mark the progres of life in general. Whilst still dp'ed I've managed to appear in tournaments in front of hundreds of people. It sometimes even makes me feel 'awesome'. I know it sounds macho, but I feel timeless somehow, like I'm following some forgotten earthly rite. It's helped me so much.
I started a physics course at university last september. Realised taht I wasn't really that interested and quit at Christmas. Worked a few crappy jobs. I didn't care I felt independant, I'd realised that stupid little human constructs aren't worth having a nervous breakdown over. I've really learnt to just say f*ck it when the pressures of everyday life seem to be baring down on you. I've learnt to worry less in general, and boy has it helped.
Eventually I got a place at a decent uni to study philosophy. Now I know what you are all thinking, that's the worst thing a dp'er could possibly do. But I do quite enjoy philosphy, and anything that I'm likely to study will never reach the unreal depths of my own imagination. I'm confident that this is s a good decision, and no I don't hope to find any answers.
I've continued to do martial arts. I've also incorporated some weight training into my schedule, and I start many of my days with a five mile run. The weigh training (euphamism for body building) is something I really love as well, it is a drug. Somewhere in those endless stacks of cast iron disks, and amidst all that animal grunting and perspiration, I have found some form of inner peace believe it or not. Again I must say it makes me feel awesome.
I can understand how many of the highly intelligent people on this noard would scoff at such a thing as being the solution to dp. But let me tell you this, I am no jock, I wasn never really into sport as a kid, yet this has worked better than anything else I've tried.
In July I went to Thailand where I had an awesome time. I met a lovely Dutch girl there (see my thread in the off topic forum, '...99 problems...'), and I'm gonna go visit her on Wednesday. It's mad and totally impractical, but like I said I'm not gonna let practicality give me a nervous breakdown.
Buuuuuuuuut, I'm not cured. I still suffer.
I am, however, a stronger, wiser, physically fitter, better looking and even more well hung individual than I was a year, certainly two years and most definately three years ago. Hell I can even see the funny side of the whole thing, and that's one thing we must all learn, is how to laugh at ourselves, and that's another bad cliche.
Not the most riveting of stories I know, but thanks for reading.
Alex
Let's start with some info on what I was like as a child.
-Very imaginative. Always drawing, never stopped. I was a talented artist, but I hated drawing things that existed. I loved to create vast fantasy landscapes, populated by the most fanatastic monsters imaginable. I would try to out do my last picture in terms of imagination, till by the age of nine I was drawing stuff that really did blow people away. Not necessarily in terms of technical ability, but in my ability to expand my mind far beyond what was normal for a child of that age (no I wasn't a genius).
-Always daydreaming, always.
-Somewhat paradoxically I've always been very sociable. Constantly in trouble for being the class clown.
-Yet I've always been very anxious. Had to sleep in the same bed as my mum from the age of five till I was ten. Very embarassing, but the thought of being the only one awake in the house scared the hell out of me, but mummy's bed was safe.
-Remember feelings of unreality towards my parents, very rare. The whole concept of 'my dad' or 'my mum' just seemed bizarre.
-But mostly a happy childhood. This allowed me to be extremely ambitious and creative.
-Became more science oriented when I got to high school. Gave up the drawing, and wanted to be a nuclear physicist or a marine biology.
-Increasing interest in physics. Thought I could break through to a higher plain of existence by studying it.
-Got to college age sixteen, and that's when things went horribly wrong.....
After a series of frankly minor disasters, poor exam results, minor debts incurred and small rows with friends, I had a nervous breakdown.
It was like being a frightened child all over again, except I couldn't climb into bed with mummy, cos' I was 6'4" and had wet dreams.
Feelings of terror were common, had no idea what a panic attack really was. Doubted there was a way out. But somehow I ploughed on, and had occasional periods of feeling ok. Terrified of going on meds, so I avoided the doctor.
Regrettably I spoke to my parents several times about my feelings. They gave unrealistic advise, 'study harder' 'eat vegetables' 'help old people'.
They're good parents really, but 'tough love' can be tough.
This went on for nine months, then things got much, much worse.
I was strolling around central London with my cousin. We were smoking quite a lot of skunk (stronger than weed apparently). I suddenly had a panic attack, nothing new there. Except this one carried on, and on and on and on. But I just kept walking. It got very intense.
Terror, unimaginable terror. Here I was walking through some dull part of London with my cousin. It was the beginning of the summer holidays. I had been suffering from depression an dthe occasional panic attack for nine months now, and things had seemd to be getting better. But for some weird reason on this dull average uneventful evening I was experiencing this astronomical horror.
I almost pissed myself, I had to stop in the middle of the street and urinate. I was trembling and sweating and....well you get the point.
It started to slowly subside after about three hours. But what it left wasn't pretty.
This demonic force had ravaged my soul tainting it in a way I couldn't describe. Something was different. I began to have what I now come to call feelings of unreality. I've had pretty much every dp/dr feeling there is, so thee's no point specifying
I could only associate these new feelings with biblical, cosmological or extra dimenisonal phenomena, wahtevr the f*ck they are. Yet even these couldn't do it any justice. There has always beena need within me to probe as deep as I possibly can into my own mind, or just to probe deep in general. These feelings can not merely be depression, anxiety or even dp/dr. They have to be something infinately worse, and I mean infinately.
These feelings got worse over the next month.
I was sitting there one evening watching a film with my family, when all of a sudden the most horrific existential idea came into my head. I wont' bother explaining what it was, but needless to say I couldn't get rid of it. For the next week I sank into the deepest depression I'd evr experienced. It was and still is the worst week of my life. I went on paxil, which only made things worse. I wanted to kill myself. But I didn't.
After a week I started to feel better, yep' just like that. Really my mind is totally erratic, I myself can't understand how I can go from genuinely wanting to kill myself to feeling almost normal in the space of a few days.
Gave up paxil.
A month later I went on effexor. Threw that on to a train track after a few days. Asked the doctor if I could see a psychiatrist, he gave a very convincing nod and said that could be arranged. Nearly two years on and I'm still waiting.
The endless cycle of depression, anxiety, existential obsessing and occasionally feeling quite normal, went on.
Things eventually started to improve once I finished college (which is just an extension of high school here in Britain, not university).
I had been dabbling in martial arts since I was sixteen, and had now decided to train harder and more often. I became increasingly more interested and better motivated by martial arts. Something about it's superficial technical complexity, combined with the intense pain you experience throughout the lesson. I know it's a cliche but it makes me feel connected with my body, a healthier form of self harm. It's a passion, something I can devote my many hours of mental meandering towards. It's something I can work towards as well, something to give me identity, something to help mark the progres of life in general. Whilst still dp'ed I've managed to appear in tournaments in front of hundreds of people. It sometimes even makes me feel 'awesome'. I know it sounds macho, but I feel timeless somehow, like I'm following some forgotten earthly rite. It's helped me so much.
I started a physics course at university last september. Realised taht I wasn't really that interested and quit at Christmas. Worked a few crappy jobs. I didn't care I felt independant, I'd realised that stupid little human constructs aren't worth having a nervous breakdown over. I've really learnt to just say f*ck it when the pressures of everyday life seem to be baring down on you. I've learnt to worry less in general, and boy has it helped.
Eventually I got a place at a decent uni to study philosophy. Now I know what you are all thinking, that's the worst thing a dp'er could possibly do. But I do quite enjoy philosphy, and anything that I'm likely to study will never reach the unreal depths of my own imagination. I'm confident that this is s a good decision, and no I don't hope to find any answers.
I've continued to do martial arts. I've also incorporated some weight training into my schedule, and I start many of my days with a five mile run. The weigh training (euphamism for body building) is something I really love as well, it is a drug. Somewhere in those endless stacks of cast iron disks, and amidst all that animal grunting and perspiration, I have found some form of inner peace believe it or not. Again I must say it makes me feel awesome.
I can understand how many of the highly intelligent people on this noard would scoff at such a thing as being the solution to dp. But let me tell you this, I am no jock, I wasn never really into sport as a kid, yet this has worked better than anything else I've tried.
In July I went to Thailand where I had an awesome time. I met a lovely Dutch girl there (see my thread in the off topic forum, '...99 problems...'), and I'm gonna go visit her on Wednesday. It's mad and totally impractical, but like I said I'm not gonna let practicality give me a nervous breakdown.
Buuuuuuuuut, I'm not cured. I still suffer.
I am, however, a stronger, wiser, physically fitter, better looking and even more well hung individual than I was a year, certainly two years and most definately three years ago. Hell I can even see the funny side of the whole thing, and that's one thing we must all learn, is how to laugh at ourselves, and that's another bad cliche.
Not the most riveting of stories I know, but thanks for reading.
Alex
