Ever since I could remember, I always used to think, what if nothing existed.
Anyways I guess you could say the begining of my mental health downfall started when I was 7. Before I reached the age of 7 there where many tradgedies in my family.
First tradgedy being my dad having a heart attack and during my dads time in intensive care my big brother Kenneth who lived with us at the time was knocked down by a van and died in the same hospital my dad was recovering in. I will always remember the police coming to the door that day and the tears my mum and my gran shed. 3 Weeks later my dad was released from hospital and we tried to build our lifes back together after the loss; little did we know more was in store for us.
A year later, my sister Jane died when a bus crashed into her parked car where she was waiting to pick up her daughter from their old house.
This was a crushing blow to my parents and my dad ended up in hospital with another heart attack.
After the funeral my parents fell silent for weeks, they where devasted that they had lost 2 of there grown up children within one year... The only place now was up wasnt it... things could only get better right?.... wrong...
6 months went by and my sister Helen's baby died of cot death.... Helen killed herself the next week by talking an overdose on sleeping pills.
By now, in just over a year and a half; 3 of my older siblings where dead... and my parents tried there best to hide their sadness from me. So young of age I had no idea what was going on and where everyone was going.
By the time I reached 7 I developed a panic disorder, any ache or pain I had I thought I was going to die. I also remember being freaked out by a clown I saw on television... this strangley made me feel like I was going to die also.
from age 7 to 11 I had many a panic attack and many a visit to the E.R.
At eleven I was eventually diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder and I was taught many relaxation exercises and things started to get better.
I would no longer worry about things, life was good, my parents took me everywhere just to get out of the city and have fun in the country.
The age of 12 came and Anxiety and panic was back as I started Secondary School. I felt alone.
Depersonalization and Derealization slowly crept up on me as I felt symptoms of it every so often and they kept growing stronger and stronger and my anxiety grew and grew as I didn't know what the hell was going on.
Evantually these episodes of DP/DR became chronic, I felt I had probably died in my sleep. All I could explain to others including my parents was that I don't feel real, I think I'm still dreaming, it was horror to say the least, I felt detached from all my actions and thoughts. Again... I felt alone.
My parents got me to a Psychiatrist and she said what I was experiencing was depersonalization and derealization.
As soon as I knew what to call it I searched the internet franticly to get more information of this terror, then I found a pot of gold, dpselfhelp.com.
After realising I was not alone in this and having support from my parents and this board things started to get more bearable UNTIL I made the fatal mistake of smoking hash at 13. After a few bong hits it felt like everything went...it felt as though my soul was sucked out from the soles of my feet and into the floor, it was a complete outer body experience and from that day on....DP/DR became worse and worse and worse.
I eventually was put on a prescription of my first medication - Citalopram (Celexa/Cipramil) 20mg.
The side effects were horrible but I kicked it out for 2 weeks and things started to get much much much much better, DP/DR was still there but it was bearable. A few months later I was upped to 40 mg as I would still have bad episodes from like when I smoked hash.
The year was great I was getting on with school, hanging out with friends, going places with my parents then BANG... my dad was landed in hospital with Heart Failure and my world collapsed again.
He pulled through and was out of hospital in 4 weeks but this heightened my fears of death and losing my dad. DP/DR came back with a vengeance and I was upped to 60mg of Citalopram.
Things got a little better but I was still in a chronic state of DP/DR hell, struggling to go to school and function like any other teenage boy.
Another year of hell and then my god father, my uncle Philip dies of a massive heart attack, my mums brother. I had never seen my mum cry like this ever, it was the most distrubing thing I had ever seen. A year after that my god mother, my aunt Erika, my uncles widow, died of cancer after refusing treatment, chemo and so on.
My life was officially hell. Nothing seemed real but the pain of it burned deep inside of me.
All these tradgedys I never thought have effected me in terms of my mental health, I can't judge if they have because my mind is such a shamble and I don't know if these things can effect your sub-conscience.
THIS BOARD SAVED MY LIFE AND CONTINUES TO DO SO AS RIGHT NOW AS MY DP/DR IS AT THE WORST ITS EVER BEEN.
Thats all I have to say right now, sorry if the story seemed detached with gaps from one horror to another, I'm not much of a writer.
Anthony.
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Anyways I guess you could say the begining of my mental health downfall started when I was 7. Before I reached the age of 7 there where many tradgedies in my family.
First tradgedy being my dad having a heart attack and during my dads time in intensive care my big brother Kenneth who lived with us at the time was knocked down by a van and died in the same hospital my dad was recovering in. I will always remember the police coming to the door that day and the tears my mum and my gran shed. 3 Weeks later my dad was released from hospital and we tried to build our lifes back together after the loss; little did we know more was in store for us.
A year later, my sister Jane died when a bus crashed into her parked car where she was waiting to pick up her daughter from their old house.
This was a crushing blow to my parents and my dad ended up in hospital with another heart attack.
After the funeral my parents fell silent for weeks, they where devasted that they had lost 2 of there grown up children within one year... The only place now was up wasnt it... things could only get better right?.... wrong...
6 months went by and my sister Helen's baby died of cot death.... Helen killed herself the next week by talking an overdose on sleeping pills.
By now, in just over a year and a half; 3 of my older siblings where dead... and my parents tried there best to hide their sadness from me. So young of age I had no idea what was going on and where everyone was going.
By the time I reached 7 I developed a panic disorder, any ache or pain I had I thought I was going to die. I also remember being freaked out by a clown I saw on television... this strangley made me feel like I was going to die also.
from age 7 to 11 I had many a panic attack and many a visit to the E.R.
At eleven I was eventually diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder and I was taught many relaxation exercises and things started to get better.
I would no longer worry about things, life was good, my parents took me everywhere just to get out of the city and have fun in the country.
The age of 12 came and Anxiety and panic was back as I started Secondary School. I felt alone.
Depersonalization and Derealization slowly crept up on me as I felt symptoms of it every so often and they kept growing stronger and stronger and my anxiety grew and grew as I didn't know what the hell was going on.
Evantually these episodes of DP/DR became chronic, I felt I had probably died in my sleep. All I could explain to others including my parents was that I don't feel real, I think I'm still dreaming, it was horror to say the least, I felt detached from all my actions and thoughts. Again... I felt alone.
My parents got me to a Psychiatrist and she said what I was experiencing was depersonalization and derealization.
As soon as I knew what to call it I searched the internet franticly to get more information of this terror, then I found a pot of gold, dpselfhelp.com.
After realising I was not alone in this and having support from my parents and this board things started to get more bearable UNTIL I made the fatal mistake of smoking hash at 13. After a few bong hits it felt like everything went...it felt as though my soul was sucked out from the soles of my feet and into the floor, it was a complete outer body experience and from that day on....DP/DR became worse and worse and worse.
I eventually was put on a prescription of my first medication - Citalopram (Celexa/Cipramil) 20mg.
The side effects were horrible but I kicked it out for 2 weeks and things started to get much much much much better, DP/DR was still there but it was bearable. A few months later I was upped to 40 mg as I would still have bad episodes from like when I smoked hash.
The year was great I was getting on with school, hanging out with friends, going places with my parents then BANG... my dad was landed in hospital with Heart Failure and my world collapsed again.
He pulled through and was out of hospital in 4 weeks but this heightened my fears of death and losing my dad. DP/DR came back with a vengeance and I was upped to 60mg of Citalopram.
Things got a little better but I was still in a chronic state of DP/DR hell, struggling to go to school and function like any other teenage boy.
Another year of hell and then my god father, my uncle Philip dies of a massive heart attack, my mums brother. I had never seen my mum cry like this ever, it was the most distrubing thing I had ever seen. A year after that my god mother, my aunt Erika, my uncles widow, died of cancer after refusing treatment, chemo and so on.
My life was officially hell. Nothing seemed real but the pain of it burned deep inside of me.
All these tradgedys I never thought have effected me in terms of my mental health, I can't judge if they have because my mind is such a shamble and I don't know if these things can effect your sub-conscience.
THIS BOARD SAVED MY LIFE AND CONTINUES TO DO SO AS RIGHT NOW AS MY DP/DR IS AT THE WORST ITS EVER BEEN.
Thats all I have to say right now, sorry if the story seemed detached with gaps from one horror to another, I'm not much of a writer.
Anthony.
