be that simple, for some people. But the problem is, as if we didn't know, DR/DP is a terribly complicated affair. There are those, such as me, who are predisposed to anxiety and panic but are not cursed to get stuck in the DR/DP cycle - Depersonalisation Disorder. I mean, I've fried my brain twice - had two episodes of DR, and both times it slowly faded away. Now, is that down to the fact that I'm not biochemically 'tuned' to chronic DP, or something I did ? I tend towards the former. I think I'm just lucky. I've been asked time and time again how I recovered, and I can't give an answer. I just did. Sure, after the initial horror of the first few days shivering under my duvet, I got up and continued with my life, however shite I felt, but apart from that....I don't know. I have an inkling that if you 'catch' DP quick enough, that is refuse to lay down, it's easier to crawl out of it. But that's the entire summary of my theory.
I do agree, however, that your approach towards your illness, focusing outwards, spitting in the face of panic, is definately the best way forward. I remember one occassion (I've told this story ad naueseum - and please remember, I am not
a superhuman with tremendous willpower, far from it) when I was about to go out and play football - then on to a night on the town with my friends. At the time I was rich, has girls swarming around me like flies around a lump of s.h.i.t, and everything was rosy...and then....DR hit me like a smack in the face. I sat on the edge of my bed, shaking like you wouldn't believe, the world around me was completely
alien...terrifying..my heart was pounding, sweating like a vicar in a brothel..absolutely sure that any second I was about to slip into the pool of schizoprehnia..etc. I had a packet of Valium on my bedside table which was screaming out at me...but, and this was as close to enlightenment that I'll ever get, I saw a very stark choice ahead of me. Take the valium, feel better for a while, and achieve nothing and lose everything. It really was a simple choice. Live or die. I dragged myself out of the house, played football somehow, felt a little weird but went home, had a lovely warm shower and went to the pub, calm, with a sense of victory over my DR. Of course, this was repeated time after time over the course of the year, and sure - I gave in a couple of times, but I really do believe that if I had downed those valium and gone back to bed, I might still be there now. I'm not suggesting that you should fight this beast to exhaustion every second of the day - it's not practical, but there are times, and you know the times I mean, when you say to yourself, enough is e-f.u.c.k.i.n.g-ough. Get angry, get FURIOUS. I used to imagine my DR as a demon of sort, and when I had enough of his evil I'd visualise myself drowning him in the lake...pushing him down far enough into the silt so that he wouldn't have enough purchase to rise for a while...silly I know, but it helped.
It has nothing to do with will, I am not stronger than any of you...less so in most cases. It's a choice. Even if you don't win, at least you tried, wouldn't you agree ?