G
Guest
·Hello everyone:
Wow, well here it is --"Depersonalization/Derealization Form." I could have used this 30 years ago. I'm 54, and you could say that derealization has defined my life. Since I started using Google on a regular basis, periodically I'll check into "derealization" to see what pops up. Coming across this web site today is the biggest score I've made yet on the topic.
I'm glad you all have a forum for comparing notes and giving one another support. Although derealizaiton isn't a worrisome issue in my life any more, it's something I certainly don't have "closure" on. In reading through your posts, I see so much of myself when this first started for me. And I'm saddened to see that, as with me then, there still seems to be no "cure."
But let me tell you how this thing has played out for me. Being older, maybe it can give younger people some perspective and --if I am at all typical-- some encouragement.
I never had DP really, just DR. It first hit me in a boring civics class my senior year in high school. I could make the teacher look like a 2-D cardboard character. It was fun to play around with --to relieve the boredom of the class. I could switch it on and off at will. The year before I had been using marijuana, amphetemines and glue (stupid) pretty regularly, but I stopped a year before the DR started. I was just coasting through my last year of high school, grooving on the Beatles White Album.
One day, in the summer after graduation I had a cold. I couldn't taste food. And at that moment the DR kicked in. I was looking a bush through a window. It seemed fake, unreal --like a stage prop. This was not amusing as before because I could not make it go away. Not only was I cut off from the sense of taste, I was cut off from the sense of "life" in the outer world. Things had a quality of "livingness" that I never appreciated before. The next day I woke up and I was still stuck in it, as I was every day after that. That was when I was 18, and from then, my life became an odyssey to get to the bottom of it and fix it. Nothing else --college, friends, girls-- mattered. I would try to fix the problem by what I called "hard focus." I would concentrate as hard as I could to see the thing in front of me --a tree, a scene, a person-- to make it come alive and stop looking like a prop. I never got anywhere with this approach, but it was all I had.
I turned to psychology. I inferred that my problem was the result of brain damage from sniffing glue. I believed that was irreversible, but I wanted corroboration that that's what I had. I went to the Free Clinic and told them about my problem and asked if there was some sort of test they could give me to verify brain damage. Of all the loons I'm sure they were used to, they weren't ready for this one. It was all awkward and goofy so I didn't go back after the 2nd visit or so. I had similar bad experiences with another psychologist or two.
So, I tried my best to "persavere" in life regardless of my "handicap." What, are you going to give up? But everything was all messed up. How can you laugh and feel easy when something like this is knawing at you? My friends moved on to beginning adult life without me. I became more and more solo. At one point, getting a van and 20-30 "intellectual books" to educate myself with. I slept (comfortably in the van) at rest stops and such places while working Casual Labor. This was 23-25. In my reading, I came across the term and a description for "derealization." There it was. It was in a book on schizophrenia (Self and Others) by R.D. Laing. This was actually great news to me. It meant my problem wasn't organic. I had schizophrenia. Not great news, but at least something the shrinks have treatment for.
So, with diagnosis in hand, I shopped around for a shrink. I never found the definitive cure I was looking for. I don't think they bought my diagnosis (I had "something", but not that...) The best I got --and it was cool-- was a Lutheran minister who did evening work as a psychologist. I saw him alone once a week and went to his group therapy once a week for a good 2 years. Then, when I couldn't pay any more, he'd see me at his house on Saturday and I'd do yard work in trade for the therapy. I was all into philosophy and we'd talk about that. He was what they used to call (do they still exist?) a "reality therapist." ("Don't tell me about your mother; I want you to make some friends and go out!"). That ended kind of weird, but it was sure nice to have someone to talk to about my trouble --as this forum seems to do.
When that ended, I went back to college with renewed determination (and did finish). I was something like 28-29 then. Somewhere about this time, I began to notice that the DR didn't bother me anymore. It wasn't a pressing issue. I didn't know if I had overcome it or if I had just finally acclimated myself to it. Maybe I just forgot what things _can_ look like so I wasn't as aware of what I was missing. The DR didn't dramatically go away. I didn't get reality back. The unreality just became irrelevant. That was overall a pleasant realization. After fighting for 10 years and not getting anywhere, it's not that hard to lower your expectations. You adapt and move on. You don't have to decide to do it; your reptile brain does it for you and you enjoy the fruits of its labor.
Years went on, I finished college, got married, got a job, got divorced, got another job (teaching math --which I totally love), and that basically brings me up to the present.
For all those of you caught in the throws of this m***** f*****, there are some snippets I can share. About 13 years ago (40 years of age), I was walking through a crosswalk at a rather quiet intersection and I felt reality come back briefly for the first time in, what, 25 years. It didn't last for more than 2 or 3 seconds, but while it did it was like a gust of pure oxygen. And then, maybe 6 months or a year after that, I was walking into a Ralphs Market and looked over at the produce section. It was an old wood store and they had skylights. Light was streaming down on all the produce. It was incredibly beautiful and it was Real. I guess it was beautiful because it was real. That was another one shot event. I just took these experiences as gifts --they just come on their own.
In the last year, 2 or 3 times --it seems like when I'm sitting my car at an intersection-- I'll see immense beauty in the most ordinary of things. It's reality coming back, but this time, it's not taken for granted like I did in all my life up to the age of 18. It's precious and delicious and doesn't last long. To live in that kind of cognition for an extended length of time would be bliss. This is all "state-of-the-art" for me, so I can't say much about it. The experience passes and I'm back to my mundane experience. But I do know that it is the antithesis of DR.
So here's my conclusion (subject to rejection or revision upon further evidence) for those of you stuck in this morass. I said it to one of my shrinks back in the old days but they didn't appreciate it, but I think I was right then. Talking not so much about by DR trouble but my psychological malaise in general (like DR it was something I had lost and wanted back), I complained that I don't know (for example) what it _means_ to drive down the fast lane of a freeway anymore. All the contextual stuff surrounding that activity is not present. It's just a stupid blunt act. It has no meaning. I despreately wanted that meaning back. Getting it back and getting reality back were two sides of the same coin to me.
This analysis has stood up with me over the years. I think what DR is, at bottom, is the draining of meaning from things.
And lastly, and I hope this doesn't alienate too many people, about a year before the DR started, something even more dramatic happened to me. Completely out of the blue I was swept over with a series of mystical experiences (oceanic feeling of being one with all creation) that lasted several months. They passed, it was "back to normal" for several months, and then the DR episodes began. How this relates to DR, I don't know. St. John of the Cross in Dark Night of the Soul (a guide for budding mystics) talks about "the aridity of sense". Hey, that's DR. (If this alienates anyone, let me say that all my affinities are with the die hard athiest -- Cushy cozy religion makes my skin crawl.)
I apologize for going on at such length, but it's nice to be able to talk about this to people who might understand. Very nice. And I hope my "advanced age" perspective on the matter can provide some useful data for younger people out there.
Hang in there and keep the faith,
Dennis
Wow, well here it is --"Depersonalization/Derealization Form." I could have used this 30 years ago. I'm 54, and you could say that derealization has defined my life. Since I started using Google on a regular basis, periodically I'll check into "derealization" to see what pops up. Coming across this web site today is the biggest score I've made yet on the topic.
I'm glad you all have a forum for comparing notes and giving one another support. Although derealizaiton isn't a worrisome issue in my life any more, it's something I certainly don't have "closure" on. In reading through your posts, I see so much of myself when this first started for me. And I'm saddened to see that, as with me then, there still seems to be no "cure."
But let me tell you how this thing has played out for me. Being older, maybe it can give younger people some perspective and --if I am at all typical-- some encouragement.
I never had DP really, just DR. It first hit me in a boring civics class my senior year in high school. I could make the teacher look like a 2-D cardboard character. It was fun to play around with --to relieve the boredom of the class. I could switch it on and off at will. The year before I had been using marijuana, amphetemines and glue (stupid) pretty regularly, but I stopped a year before the DR started. I was just coasting through my last year of high school, grooving on the Beatles White Album.
One day, in the summer after graduation I had a cold. I couldn't taste food. And at that moment the DR kicked in. I was looking a bush through a window. It seemed fake, unreal --like a stage prop. This was not amusing as before because I could not make it go away. Not only was I cut off from the sense of taste, I was cut off from the sense of "life" in the outer world. Things had a quality of "livingness" that I never appreciated before. The next day I woke up and I was still stuck in it, as I was every day after that. That was when I was 18, and from then, my life became an odyssey to get to the bottom of it and fix it. Nothing else --college, friends, girls-- mattered. I would try to fix the problem by what I called "hard focus." I would concentrate as hard as I could to see the thing in front of me --a tree, a scene, a person-- to make it come alive and stop looking like a prop. I never got anywhere with this approach, but it was all I had.
I turned to psychology. I inferred that my problem was the result of brain damage from sniffing glue. I believed that was irreversible, but I wanted corroboration that that's what I had. I went to the Free Clinic and told them about my problem and asked if there was some sort of test they could give me to verify brain damage. Of all the loons I'm sure they were used to, they weren't ready for this one. It was all awkward and goofy so I didn't go back after the 2nd visit or so. I had similar bad experiences with another psychologist or two.
So, I tried my best to "persavere" in life regardless of my "handicap." What, are you going to give up? But everything was all messed up. How can you laugh and feel easy when something like this is knawing at you? My friends moved on to beginning adult life without me. I became more and more solo. At one point, getting a van and 20-30 "intellectual books" to educate myself with. I slept (comfortably in the van) at rest stops and such places while working Casual Labor. This was 23-25. In my reading, I came across the term and a description for "derealization." There it was. It was in a book on schizophrenia (Self and Others) by R.D. Laing. This was actually great news to me. It meant my problem wasn't organic. I had schizophrenia. Not great news, but at least something the shrinks have treatment for.
So, with diagnosis in hand, I shopped around for a shrink. I never found the definitive cure I was looking for. I don't think they bought my diagnosis (I had "something", but not that...) The best I got --and it was cool-- was a Lutheran minister who did evening work as a psychologist. I saw him alone once a week and went to his group therapy once a week for a good 2 years. Then, when I couldn't pay any more, he'd see me at his house on Saturday and I'd do yard work in trade for the therapy. I was all into philosophy and we'd talk about that. He was what they used to call (do they still exist?) a "reality therapist." ("Don't tell me about your mother; I want you to make some friends and go out!"). That ended kind of weird, but it was sure nice to have someone to talk to about my trouble --as this forum seems to do.
When that ended, I went back to college with renewed determination (and did finish). I was something like 28-29 then. Somewhere about this time, I began to notice that the DR didn't bother me anymore. It wasn't a pressing issue. I didn't know if I had overcome it or if I had just finally acclimated myself to it. Maybe I just forgot what things _can_ look like so I wasn't as aware of what I was missing. The DR didn't dramatically go away. I didn't get reality back. The unreality just became irrelevant. That was overall a pleasant realization. After fighting for 10 years and not getting anywhere, it's not that hard to lower your expectations. You adapt and move on. You don't have to decide to do it; your reptile brain does it for you and you enjoy the fruits of its labor.
Years went on, I finished college, got married, got a job, got divorced, got another job (teaching math --which I totally love), and that basically brings me up to the present.
For all those of you caught in the throws of this m***** f*****, there are some snippets I can share. About 13 years ago (40 years of age), I was walking through a crosswalk at a rather quiet intersection and I felt reality come back briefly for the first time in, what, 25 years. It didn't last for more than 2 or 3 seconds, but while it did it was like a gust of pure oxygen. And then, maybe 6 months or a year after that, I was walking into a Ralphs Market and looked over at the produce section. It was an old wood store and they had skylights. Light was streaming down on all the produce. It was incredibly beautiful and it was Real. I guess it was beautiful because it was real. That was another one shot event. I just took these experiences as gifts --they just come on their own.
In the last year, 2 or 3 times --it seems like when I'm sitting my car at an intersection-- I'll see immense beauty in the most ordinary of things. It's reality coming back, but this time, it's not taken for granted like I did in all my life up to the age of 18. It's precious and delicious and doesn't last long. To live in that kind of cognition for an extended length of time would be bliss. This is all "state-of-the-art" for me, so I can't say much about it. The experience passes and I'm back to my mundane experience. But I do know that it is the antithesis of DR.
So here's my conclusion (subject to rejection or revision upon further evidence) for those of you stuck in this morass. I said it to one of my shrinks back in the old days but they didn't appreciate it, but I think I was right then. Talking not so much about by DR trouble but my psychological malaise in general (like DR it was something I had lost and wanted back), I complained that I don't know (for example) what it _means_ to drive down the fast lane of a freeway anymore. All the contextual stuff surrounding that activity is not present. It's just a stupid blunt act. It has no meaning. I despreately wanted that meaning back. Getting it back and getting reality back were two sides of the same coin to me.
This analysis has stood up with me over the years. I think what DR is, at bottom, is the draining of meaning from things.
And lastly, and I hope this doesn't alienate too many people, about a year before the DR started, something even more dramatic happened to me. Completely out of the blue I was swept over with a series of mystical experiences (oceanic feeling of being one with all creation) that lasted several months. They passed, it was "back to normal" for several months, and then the DR episodes began. How this relates to DR, I don't know. St. John of the Cross in Dark Night of the Soul (a guide for budding mystics) talks about "the aridity of sense". Hey, that's DR. (If this alienates anyone, let me say that all my affinities are with the die hard athiest -- Cushy cozy religion makes my skin crawl.)
I apologize for going on at such length, but it's nice to be able to talk about this to people who might understand. Very nice. And I hope my "advanced age" perspective on the matter can provide some useful data for younger people out there.
Hang in there and keep the faith,
Dennis
thanks for the post...it really was great. i think we could all benefit from someone's advice who has had dr for so long.
