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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
I am new.
I am so glad that this board exists...and I wanted to throw down my story here and introduce myself.

First, I have been worried about death since I was a little kid. I remember being in church, and running out screaming and telling my mom that I was afraid to die.
I had baby panic attacks on and off, mostly off, for pretty much the rest of my life.
Then, about 3 years and some change ago, I got in a REAL severe car wreck, where I had convinced myself that I was going to die right before I hit the truck and blacked out from hitting my head. because of that, I freaked out and had REAL bad panic attacks anytime I would hear a cars brakes screech to a sudden halt.
I hate that "ice water being poured in your veins feeling" more than anything else ever.
I pretty much conquered those attacks...but ever since November, I have been having dp/dr (mostly dp) issues, and I think it stems from a really bad attack that I suffered. I will post that story here in a second.
My DP issues worry me because I often times loose track of time...and I spend so much time analyzing what I JUST did (like look out the window, or how much time I have actually been doing something else), that I miss out on things, so I spend a lot more time trying to figure out what I just missed out on, and what I was doing to miss out on it....if that makes sense. it's a nasty cycle.

Anyway...here's my story that I posted on my blog a couple of days after that attack.
let me know if you can relate...or what you suggest...etc.
I am not...out of control, I guess. I function very well...but I am so numb to things that I should LOVE.
and I feel like my short term memory is almost non-existant.

and to set the scene here...puma is my guitar player in my band:

"There I was, sitting on the couch, waiting for practice to begin. I started spacing out for whatever reason, as most of us do from time to time, and out of nowhere this incredible wave of panic and fear washed over me. I started to shake and my eyes couldn?t sit still on anything for more than a couple of seconds.

I stood up and said:
?Guys, I?m freaking out. I think I?m having a panic attack.? and then I ran outside. I stood there for a minute, trying to gather my thoughts, but my mind was running on pure fear of death. I had a million thoughts burning through my head at a million miles an hour, and ALL of them were about death or dying or something along those lines.

I walked back inside and saw Puma there. He gave me this look like I was goofing around, and he asked me what was wrong. I told him that I thought I was having a panic attack and that I was freaking out. He told me that I needed to go back outside, so I did.
When I got outside, I stepped outside of myself. I could see me sitting there, shaking my legs as fast as I could make them move, and attempting to smoke another cigarette.

Puma asked me what was wrong, and that I was scaring him. I told him that I was scaring me too, but that?s because I was dead. Somehow, and don?t ask me how, I was absolutely convinced that I was dead, and that someone was torturing me by making me think that I was still alive. And because of this, no one else would believe that I was dead, even though I knew it. I KNEW that I was in hell, and that no matter what I did, no one would believe that I was dead, and I would be stuck here for eternity. Of course, trying to explain this to someone that isn?t in the midst of a severe panic attack is almost impossible. They just don?t get it, and why should they.

Puma walked me inside, and we were going to practice, but there was just no way. As soon as I got in the basement, it got worse. I kept talking and talking and talking about how I was dead, and that we were actually ALL dead, but that?s what hell was. Hell was being dead but not being able to know that for sure. So that way you have to live life in doubt and not be able to enjoy being alive. I am sure that makes no sense, but this was where my brain was. I told the guys that I had to go home. There was no way that I could do it on my own though, so I had them take me there.

When I got home, I laid awake talking and crying for abut 4 hours, trying desperately to go to sleep, but hoping that I wouldn?t die or/and that I wasn?t already dead and going to sleep was the end of the torture. I thought that I existed on five planes of existence at once, and that?s why I couldn?t wrap my head around reality. I thought reality was going on in a couple of different places, and I was merely the ?distributor? of those realities. Yeah, I was MESSED up"

so...that's my story.
sorry so long.
heh.
 

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I have things to say, but if you excuse me later.

For now, I will say that the fear of death caused me a lot of trouble: since I will stop to exist, then what is the point of keep living? (one the of bad things of beeing irreligious).
 
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