How I Recovered in a Matter of Seconds

So here's the story: When I was ten-years-old, my father, in a drunken stupor, picked me up by the neck and slammed me against a wall. He to this day claims it didn't "seem like a big deal at the time," but I was merely a naive kid wondering, "what's wrong with me? What did I do to deserve this?," thus I hid the fact that the abuse hurt me physically, and little did I know, mentally as well. The next day, I woke up, and I felt like I was in a different room - one other than my own. I looked at my bed sheets and tried caressing the fabric in my hand, but I didn't feel as though it were my hand touching the fabric. It felt like I was hollow, as though I had no internal function. I then arose out of bed and approached my brother, who was already awake, on the computer. I looked at him and was instantly confused... he didn't "feel," like my brother, but rather, just another person. As if there was no relation whatsoever. I turned away without saying a word, and then I went to my father's room. He was passed out, probably hungover, so my child mind assumed he was just asleep. Given that I was in a totally alien world, I went to go lay in my father's bed to try and get "grounded," as they say, but my father just told me to leave his room.

The next ten years of my life were filled with mental turmoil. I went through 5 different antidepressants (zoloft, cymbalta, effexor, prozac, and welbutrin) to no avail. My arms began to flail when I was anxious uncontrollably, they would rise as though there were an electric jolt passing through them without my control. It was awful and frightening at the same time. My father being a lawyer, he never had the time to take me to the doctor for a physical checkup. He also figured that money was the way to happiness in regards to his children (myself and my brother) and that no matter what, as long as we had money, we'd be happy. This clearly isn't true. I found this very site in twenty-thirteen figuring my physical state had no effect on my mental state, however, in recent times, I have begun to change that position.

Recently, I fell out of having healthcare. I no longer was able to receive it, but it didn't matter much anyway because I never took advantage of it. However, my father then lost his job due to alcoholism and we had to move elsewhere, to a not-so-nice neighborhood. I then, myself, being nineteen now, signed up for government-given health insurance. I wanted to go in to my primary care doctor's office with complaints of physical pain rather than starting off with mental pain, as I had done so in the past. I showed him that my shoulder and neck was in pain and sometimes numb, and that my leg was in pain on occasion. He then recommended physical therapy exercises for my leg, but not my shoulder or neck.

I took note of the leg exercises and the methodology behind it and tried, as best as possible, to apply the exercise for my leg's methodology on my neck (basically, flexing as hard as possible against the direction of pain coinciding with my nerves). At first, this was very difficult because I was weak. My muscles in the afflicted areas of physical exercise were weak to the point of me shaking when flexing them. I did not mind, and continued the exercise I had concocted for myself. Well, one day, when playing Fallout: New Vegas, I did it right. I felt (and even heard) a loud popping come from my neck. It did not hurt, though I was afraid - my whole world was changing before my eyes. I could feel the earwax fluid drain from my left ear. The gun in my character's hand was now three dimensions. I got up from my chair and just looked around, everything was three dimensional. I had a center point of view. I then walked to my father and it was miraculous. Without even saying a word, I knew I had empathy again. I knew I had emotion again. I walked away, to my room, and bawled in to my pillow. I never thought in a million years, much less the six years of being on this site, would I be fixed of this affliction. I had done it. I won the mental aspect of depersonalization by performing physical therapy exercises. After bawling, I looked around at everything in my house. Even the tiny things were magical: my toothbrush being three dimensional gave me pleasure beyond any I had in the years of being depersonalized (and mind you, I had gone to Maui during that time).

Now, this was merely a few nights ago. Just night before last, I had a major grand mal seizure. Being in America, I went to a hospital emergency room and they then put me in a waiting room for three hours after taking my vitals and giving me Ativan (a benzo). After this occurrence, they told me to check in with my Primary Care Physician, which is what I'm doing this coming Tuesday. I am expecting a referral to a neurologist, but I am going to go in to the doctor's office regarding possible damage to my vagus nerve, despite the hospital saying that is highly unlikely (even though they performed no MRI or EEG).

I shall keep you all posted, given that I don't die (I'd say this is a joke, but if it is my vagus nerve, I seriously could pass before I even get to the doctor). You will all be in my mind and in my heart and I will pray for all of you suffering through this terrible illness.