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Hello everyone!
I have been lurking through these inspirational stories, but haven't had the courage to post my own until now. I was told that talking/writing/typing/expressing whats on your mind is one of the best ways to relieve stress, so here'goes.

I was a pretty constantly stressed out kid, after my parents got divorced and moved 2000+ miles away from eachother. I loved both of them and they both loved me, they just hated eachother (I was too little to comprehend it). Well long story short, i went with my mom and ended up staying with her way up north for about 15 years away from my dad. I remember the good times and nostalgia with the boyfriends (and their kids) that my mom tried to replace my dad with, but I know my mind blocked out wanting my real dad back. (she tells me that as a kid I said my heart felt like it was being punched, but i now see that it was severe separation anxiety).

Anyway, as i got to 16-19 years old, I guess my mind couldn't handle any more repression. I suddenly did not trust myself, became a hypochondriac (thought a leg cramp was an aneurysm/blood clot), started looking for anything in the media relating to death and trying to associate with it, etc. I vaguely recall trying to jump off the roof of my house just to see if I was real or not. The neighbor saw it and was pretty alarmed...

The depression just grew uncontrollably, especially after my 18th birthday. All i would dwell on was "I became an adult without seeing my dad... i never thought that would happen". I began to blame myself for them splitting up because they wouldn't tell me. (come to find out, it was my grandparents' racism)

I did find out that i could draw cartoon characters to escape trying to understand this unseen problem, compulsively drew/painted and became a pretty good artist. But that almost didnt matter, because I was so obsessed with death that my mom didnt know where to turn. She even tried bringing me to the morgue to show me what real death is, or to shock me into reality. It was like being consciously "turned off".
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It was pretty bad, but then suddenly my mom and dad started talking on the phone again after more than a decade. I didnt believe it was real, and thats when the derealization became the fullest. He was going to come up by bus and get back together with my mom again. I was suicidal by that point, I remember thinking what existed beyond reality. Mom said that now that i was an adult, maybe i could try to see if marijuana would help. So I did. WORST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE.

I was in a "who cares what happens" mood, and took the deepest hit i could, and within 15 minutes, I fell down on the couch like I lost all muscle control, then came the most frightening sensation I ever felt. It was like every cell in my body was contracting and expanding at random, RUSHING intervals. I checked my heartbeat, but it was too fast to even count (or at least felt that way). I ran into the kitchen and hugged my mom, knowing i would die or explode or something at any moment. My hearing was dull, I had extreme tunnel vision, couldn't breathe, and was watching the very essence of reality and space/time collapse in on itself. It was the deepest most soul crushing terror. a.k.a my first full panic attack! (yay) I also had really bad acid reflux whenever I would lay down after that.

Anyway, the DP was so strong that I didnt have a chance to enjoy my parents being back together after so long. I wanted to on the inside, but my body just wouldn't listen. It didn't help that we moved into a bigger house in the middle of all that either. I still remember the experiences, but I just wonder if I could have enjoyed them more.

It lasted for at least a year and a half before I started to see things as being remotely real, and became somewhat comfortable. I am very angry that I wasted that much time. I'm still not used to my dad, even though something inside me remembers him completely. But he says I have become a recluse, and doesn't want me to get hurt when I move out on my own. So he's going to put me through his own version of "Boot Camp" like he had to do in the military. And now the DP is back, though more foggy and vague than before.

I'll be relaxing and totally fine, and suddenly start questioning my own existence. It comes on in waves, and its like my subconscious answers itself. The pattern goes like this:

"What Is reality? Who/what am I? Do I really even exist? How am I even asking this to myself?"
"You're in reality right now. You are a human being. Yes you exist"

"How can I be sure? What is being sure?"
"If you didn't exist, you couldn't wonder about existing. It cancels itself out"

I sometimes look at my hands and body, and wonder "how" it responds to thought. Logically I know it is simple electricity, but then my head gets fuzzy and heavy, and I wonder if logic is even real. My mind feels like it is trying to escape my body AND itself, and it is terrifying.
I know that the fact that I can even ponder this means that I am perfectly sane (or even too sane), but sometimes logic just goes away. I have also noticed how easy thought can bring on/dispell DP, but what comes before thought? Is it profoundly strong or profoundly weak? Is it a spirit that is both an individual AND one with a divine source?

Maybe this is why people go into religion...haha...

Thats about as far as I got. To anyone who takes the time to read this ridiculous mountain of text, you are brave and I applaud you


-2snowdrift
 

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Huh, I think we may have some common ground. My folks started to split up when I was in the 7th grade. I didn't know my "bio dad," so not having my stepdad around kinda did a number on me. So I resorted to my Cello as comfort. I would practice, gah, 6-7 hours on end and about halfway through the semester, I was playing Senior level etudes.

Art as comfort. I know that there's such a thing as music therapy, so if you still paint/draw, you might try to see if there's any kind of visual art therapy. Could be worth a shot!
 
G

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Concepts are not prisons. Though maybe, your mind's perception of concepts is skewed by some sort of brain aberration.
You have to have faith, though. In your recovery. In yourself.
Nobody else cares about your messed up head except for yourself.
It's sad but in the end you will do it yourself and realize that no one could really help you but yourself.
Hunker-down and beat this thing like a omelette.
 

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Hunker-down and beat this thing like a omelette.

HIT IT FROM DA SIDE LIKE A MUTHA*#$%IN' BASS DRUM!! ^_^!
 
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