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A New Me

My Story of Dealing with Depersonalization

By Brianna ValenzuelaPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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It started with a dress, mirror, and depression. They were all present when I had my first experience with my disease. I was wearing a white dress with a black strip of lace around the waist of the dress. I wasn't one to consider myself pretty, or even attractive, but that dress, I loved how it looked on me. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I was in awe. For the very first time I had considered myself pretty and attractive. I wasn't in the best emotional state at the time, going through family issues, simple troubles that teenagers go through. These issues triggered my depression and, for some odd reason, the disease. Those three things started the hell that I've been living in for three years.

Taking a deep look into my reflection I saw a totally different person. I was simply watching through the eyes of a girl who was much prettier than I could ever be. "Is that me?" I thought to myself. "How can it be? You're not attractive!" an angry girl's voice inside me spat. She was feisty. She was harsh. She had no boundaries on what to say to put me down. She was heartless. And she was me.

Granted, it doesn't happen often, my disease. It comes and goes. It wouldn't be entirely hell if it was consistent, because then it'd be a normal. My normal. In the psychology sense, it's called a disease, but that's not the only reason why I consider it as such. It envelops you till you can't remember what being human means. It takes your spirit, your sadness, your happiness, your fears and uses it against you.

The syndrome makes you doubt your existence. Your life is not your own, you're simply watching it from this person's perspective, but the person is not you. The power of feeling incapable of being harmed because you feel as though you're an enigma on the earth contradicts the helpless feeling of knowing that the person is you and not being able to fully reassure yourself that it is. It's terrifying how one minute you know exactly who you are and in the next, you're trying to convince yourself that the person you see in the reflection of your phone is you. The length of this feeling isn't determined. It can go on for seconds to hours to a day; sometimes, if you're unlucky, it goes on to the next day and the next and the next till you're mentally shaking yourself to regain some sense.

This sounds like a nightmare, and those who are fortunate enough don't go through this struggle, but those who aren't, they suffer with it. It's said that it's a common disease, "many people have it", but where are they? Maybe they don't look into it and count it as some glitch in life that happens often and to everyone. Maybe they find themselves delusional and would rather not talk about it because they fear of being deemed crazy.

It's not an easy thing to talk about with others. How could someone possibly know what you're going through when you don't even know what you're experiencing? The only people who would really know what you're going through are those who are going through it themselves, but they're not easily found. They hide behind their depression, their anxiety, by their smiles, by their laughs, by their lives that prevent them from diving too deep into the meaning of this delusion.

What's the cause? Fear, anxiety, depression, etc. What's the solution? The very thing they fear: addressing it. Of course, it's not always a definitive solution, but one that will make a person feel more in control of their condition. Some people would rather lie to themselves and say they're fine. Some people don't know who to turn to. Some people don't have someone who will listen. Then some, well, some write a story in hopes that they're not alone and that those in hiding will make their appearance.

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