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Hello everyone,

Prepare yourself for this...yet another lugubrious wailing from poor ol' sebastian. What do i say at this point...words are starting to fail me. How can i describe to you the amplified terror of my current situation? How can i relate to you the unrelatable feelings of ghostliness whistling through my brain? How can i breathe logic and communicate to you ideas which have no place in rational thought?

There is no way i can explain this feeling to anyone...so in lieu of an explanation, i'll let loose the cliches...which, by the way, are no less true, just because they're cliches.

This is undoubtedly the worst i've ever felt. And i really, really mean that. I quite literally feel as though i'm in a dream now...almost as if the AS IF has been taken away from the description. I look around at my life and i recognize less and less...in a visceral way of course...i'm not losing my memory. I feel such an enormous loss of identity that i've just melded into the background of my own life and am watching it, as if watching a film. I have moments of intense derealization (i think that's what it is), where i'll be driving or something and i literally snap out of it, very strongly unaware of where i am, or what i'm doing...again, not in any kind of cognitive sense...i still know my name and what not...it's just that my "emotional memory" seems to have vanished. I feel horrible...abominably depressed.

I look upon my family and friends and feel nothing. So detached...so broken, and empty of any form of feeling. I remember not so long ago...maybe a little more than a month when, still ensconced in this depersonalization and still struggling daily to maintain some form of emotional lucidity, i at least had brief moments of respite, and i could always count on the right song or the right film or the right words by the right person, alleviating the stress somewhat and lifting me out of this torpor for a few champagne moments of clarity, where everything seemed like things might eventually be all right in the end, though still assured of terrible times to tread through in the present.
But now...there are no moments like that anymore. Every day my world grows smaller and smaller. I have actual physical pains from my anxiety and depression. My stomach is constantly ill...i feel overwhelming exhaustion for much of the day...etc, etc.

I find it laughable now when i think of the dreams i used to have...and how insurmountable such things seem to me now. I spend my days at the most monotonous job ever created, and i find myself far more comfortable there, awash in mediocrity and banality, than anywhere else. It seems to be the only place where i can at least distract myself long enough to keep the terror at least somewhat mollified. But after work it comes back in full force.

I have no idea who i am anymore. And i mean that in the most dp-sense imaginable. I've stalemated myself into a corner. And things like seeing a doctor, a psychiatrist, taking pills, etc. all seem so absurd to me now...like putting a band-aid on a gunshot wound to the heart. I have indeed felt terrible before, but it has truly never been this bad. I don't believe i can be helped at this point. I really don't.

All the King's horses and all the king's men, and all that...I'm sure this sounds like some sort of martyr-complex, but i see no way out anymore. I have this colossal emptiness inside me...taking no pleasure in little things...divorced entirely from reality and residing in my own horrible dream.

I'm in a state now where, in the past, i had only caught terrible glimpses of in horrid dp-laced fantasies where i'm sailing through sad and desolate dreamscapes, so desperately alone and forgotten, an exile from all that i once knew and loved...in the past i would wake up from those dreams and feel so full of gratitude that that's all it was. Things really can get worse. They can get so bad that insanity begins to look awfully sweet. I actually walk around these days, thinking to myself, "Hmm...so this is what it's like to be completely out of one's mind. It's much worse than i'd imagined."

What a life...i swear, i wish i was never born (and to be honest, i'm almost questioning whether i was)...i assume it will only be a number of days before i have some sort of breakdown and wind up in an institution of some kind. It hardly matters anymore. It's really just the nail in the coffin, so to speak. Hopefully they can douse me in enough drugs that it will fry my brain to the point that i can actually start to relate to half the people around me.

I apologize for the depressing soliloquoy. God, i really do hate self-centered posts like this which do nothing but perpetuate misery. I'm sorry for making this board an occassional diary. I really feel as though i'm missing that central part of one's self where hope, love, and happiness used to exist...and i've become like a parody of the modern-aged dped man or something. I don't necessarily think that dp inevitably sends one down as far as i've gotten, but i do think that it has to be caught quickly, and the dwelling in dangerous thoughts should be aborted immediately. I don't know. I really don't see the point in sugar-coating anything anymore. The rambling is starting to take hold...again, i'm sorry but I feel very lost...

I wish there was someone to throw in the towel to...

hd.
 
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that is about the saddest thing i have ever read. i am still crying from reading this post. i am so scared of this condition. i don't know what to do either. i have no advice, really. i have been going through this for 2 years now. when i read about people having this for 10 years, it scares the crap out of me. how do you walk this earth for 10 years feeling like this?

i read once that DP can't get worse, but that's not true. mine has gotten worse. i don't know who i am either.

i don't know what else to say.
 

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Dear sebastian,
I'm sorry. I felt all "up" at the end of October, a million plans for the future and got whacked in the head with probably the worst DP/DR I've had in... I cannot recall.

Well, it has taken me essentially 12 days to recover. Back to my normal DP/DR, but it is as if the Hell I fell into ... I've forgotten how awful it was. And I hear of those who have gotten well who literally can't recall how bad it was. That I believe.

I'm also embarking on a new form of therapy -- group therapy called DBT or Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, something like CBT... which will essentially help me cope. I don't expect a cure, but it's like getting up after being shot in the head (or the heart as you say), and dragging along again. And I've become interested in politics again, and have laughed a few times, out loud in the past couple of days, instead of phoning a few close friends to cry endlessly, then hang up and cry some more.

I can only say, I understand, as much as anyone can understand anyone else's battle with this infernal illness.

It's a vicious thing. But keep the faith. Make it up if you have to.

Take Care,
D
 

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Hey Sebastian

I read your post and really need to tell you what I think. First of all you are not alone. What you're experiencing is common to many of us here.
That's the bad news. The good news is when I reached where you are now, about a month or so later marked the beginning of 10 years of freedom from DPDR. What I'm trying to say is that this can change for the better very rapidly. Things may seem a certain way now, but you never know what will happen tomorrow. This is the worst it gets, trust me. Janine will tell you the same thing. Shortly before she fully recovered she dealt with some of the worst DP she ever had. Just hang in there. You will get better.

Ken
 

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sebastian, this is exactly me, minus the terror, and the sense of crises. I don't mean to be maudlin, but we are brothers in this. I'm trying to think of something hopeful, some kind of advice, for me and for you.

I don't think, however, that some kind of breakdown or institutionalization is imminent. I remember thinking the same thing, that something has to change and that maybe some kind of institutionalization might be a transition to a better life. But it seems to me that instead, it would have began a spiral even further downward. (It is possible that I am wrong about this--but I don't think so)

I would speculate that for any kind of institution to be helpful we would have to design and staff it ourselves, with every piece of equipment possible, and with the smartest people on the planet, from psychoanalysts, through psychiatrists, dieticians, coaches, down to the guys with the white coats and the white rats in the basement, all dedicated to helping us wake up. ( Maybe the Bill and Melinda Gates foundation will give us a massive grant. :)) As it is, more serious mental health hospitals probably have their hands full with the truly schizophrenic, the autistic, the incapacitated.

We can go to work every day, relate with our co-workers, do a good job, albeit at some job way beneath our potential.

There seems to be some kind of double movement: to try to ignore, to get out and push on, and to also realize this is deadly serious and to try to fix it, some way, any way, before it is too late. I may be wrong, but I like the latter approach as the first line, augmented somehow by the former.

I do think that, regardless of how it feels, how it hurts, how, inside, it feels wrong, it is critical to stay connected to people who care about you, especially family, especially with little kids, with whom it takes so little--birthday presents, some time, some uncritical affection. A decision can be made to be kind, to be helpful, to be altruistic, even if it can seem at the time to be just behavior. To not drift away, drift off. Crimes of omission with these people can become, later in life, horrific, although they can create some kind of feeling: guilt.

I still have some hope and I still have some ideas, but to sort and to write would be a long project, and so this is all I have for now.

Except this: Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) you are too smart to give up.

(with appologies to his holiness), your friendly neighborhood dalailama,

peter..

And one more thought: Thoreau wrote, in Walden: "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. " This does not have to be you and me.
 

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sebastian......i wish i had advice to offer but i dont.....all i know is you wont end up been sectioned because you are not insane.....you are at the lowest level now of dp......but you in yourself know that this is not right so they will not lock you up....when i was like that i begged to be sectioned but they said i was of sound mind cause i knew i wasnt right......hold on there, there is hope for all of us......a lot of people have recovered from this there is no reason why all of us shouldnt...it just might take a while.....
 
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thank you so much dalailama15. i read this in the morning, and it helps. it helps to read the positive stuff. really. thank you so much for posting. it just might have made my day.
 

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hi sebastian

i hope you'e starting to touch down a bit. you may feel empty of you but your essence shines through your writing. you're still there; just lost touch for a bit
 

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Discussion Starter · #9 ·
hey,

i just wanted to write to thank all of you who responded to this post. this is going to sound awfully corny, but those replies really did boost my spirits quite a bit. i read them throughout the next couple of days, and gave me something to cling onto, in a sense. not being alone in this is about the only thing that brings me any solace. i never thought i'd get to the point where i started to sound like a soap opera, but here i am. i still feel horrible...almost unimaginably so...but the replies to this really meant a great deal.

kudos to you,

s.
 

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dalailama15-
I would speculate that for any kind of institution to be helpful we would have to design and staff it ourselves, with every piece of equipment possible, and with the smartest people on the planet, from psychoanalysts, through psychiatrists, dieticians, coaches, down to the guys with the white coats and the white rats in the basement, all dedicated to helping us wake up. ( Maybe the Bill and Melinda Gates foundation will give us a massive grant. ) As it is, more serious mental health hospitals probably have their hands full with the truly schizophrenic, the autistic, the incapacitated.
LOL yes ive had similar thoughts myself, for a few months i thought institutionalisation might be my saviour until i realised that the instituation i had in mind did not in fact exist. So ill have to save it as some sort of fantasy (as well as the international DP/DR Science, Psychology, Music, Art Conference/fair of my dreams)

A real mental institution would probably come as a terrible, visceral, disconcerting shock (now that i think of it my father used to work in one and i visited it as a child...not much of a haven for D-sufferers im afraid)

Its kind of absurd for me to think about giving helpful and positive advice really because a lot of this post and others resonate with my own experiences. A few months ago i might have said just the same thing as sebastian, and in a few months time i may again. At the moment im in the 'barely conscious of my own existence, not caring, numb' sort of phase.

But i would urge all sufferers of this disorder to keep up the relationships with family and friends. Thats absolutely vital. As dalailama15 hints it might sometimes just feel like going through the motions, not worth anything, but it IS important. EXTREMELY important. Relationships with others provide a basis in 'reality' that i didnt even notice existed until it started to slip away.

If you find it hard to define yourself now sebastian then try it if you let all relationships totally slip and fall away. Thats the mistake ive made and if all i can do is convince you not to let that happen then this post is a thousand times worth it. Sometimes even seemingly empty relationships turn out not to be so and pretense becomes reality. A relationship with nothing and noone is hard to gain pleasure from.

Anyway we all seem quite intelligent, i somehow feel we should all be somewhere we're not.
Later.
 
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