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5 Posts
I have had DP/DR for a little over 5 years now. I hate myself for it. Throughout my disorder I have the tools, time and abilities to better my disorder and ultimately cure it (as we all do). I know how it works, I know why I do what I do, I understand the fear, rumination, obsessions, feelings, numbness, causes and symptoms. Like the back of my hand.
Yet: I live, to this moment of writing, deeply plunged into the depth of DP/DR, suffering from every symptom in the book, suffering physical problems as a result of the DP/DR, living in nothing short of HELL. How I live is worse than what I ever thought DP/DR could do to me. When I first got it 5 years ago: wow, it was hell. But it's able to get so much worse and it has (sorry for new sufferers hearing this. It doesn't need to get worse, but it can).
I have the answers. I know the cures. I know the issues causing it. I've got what I need. Yet to this very second and likely for many seconds following this post, I will continue to live in a hell that cannot even be called existence. Cannot be called life. To call my experience life is an insult to nature. It's an insult to the complexity of existence, evolution, emotion and consciousness. In the face of all that is wonderful and fascinating and awe-inspiring about life, I spit in it.
This is why I relentlessly and unshakably hate myself. Give me a valid reason why I shouldn't - you cannot. "You may take no action because of past events, narratives you were conditioned to believe as a child by your parents. You may not have been given the support necessary." Good and valid points, yes. But once these points are processed and understood, the issues raised must be rectified so one can move past their issues.
And yet, even though I understand every facet of my suffering and their causing factors and how to fix them, I do nothing to help myself.
I HATE MYSELF FOR SPITTING IN THE FACE OF EXISTENCE, FOR LIVING IN HELL WHEN I COULD BE IN HEAVEN, FOR TAKING FOR GRANTED AND WASTING A WONDERFUL LIFE THAT I HAVE BEEN GIVEN, SO LUCKILY AND BY SUCH SLIM CHANCES. I HATE MYSELF.
Yet: I live, to this moment of writing, deeply plunged into the depth of DP/DR, suffering from every symptom in the book, suffering physical problems as a result of the DP/DR, living in nothing short of HELL. How I live is worse than what I ever thought DP/DR could do to me. When I first got it 5 years ago: wow, it was hell. But it's able to get so much worse and it has (sorry for new sufferers hearing this. It doesn't need to get worse, but it can).
I have the answers. I know the cures. I know the issues causing it. I've got what I need. Yet to this very second and likely for many seconds following this post, I will continue to live in a hell that cannot even be called existence. Cannot be called life. To call my experience life is an insult to nature. It's an insult to the complexity of existence, evolution, emotion and consciousness. In the face of all that is wonderful and fascinating and awe-inspiring about life, I spit in it.
This is why I relentlessly and unshakably hate myself. Give me a valid reason why I shouldn't - you cannot. "You may take no action because of past events, narratives you were conditioned to believe as a child by your parents. You may not have been given the support necessary." Good and valid points, yes. But once these points are processed and understood, the issues raised must be rectified so one can move past their issues.
And yet, even though I understand every facet of my suffering and their causing factors and how to fix them, I do nothing to help myself.
I HATE MYSELF FOR SPITTING IN THE FACE OF EXISTENCE, FOR LIVING IN HELL WHEN I COULD BE IN HEAVEN, FOR TAKING FOR GRANTED AND WASTING A WONDERFUL LIFE THAT I HAVE BEEN GIVEN, SO LUCKILY AND BY SUCH SLIM CHANCES. I HATE MYSELF.
