DPD, Anxiety, and Me...

Sitting comfortably, let's begin...

The prologue to my ramblings very much mirrors the epilogue; I'm OK, I'm great in fact. I have a fantastic job and a fantastic support structure. I'm a very different person than I was and with that in mind (pardon the pun) I feel more capable then I thought possible to talk and put it out there. My vulnerabilities, my emotions, and my self are all about to be mentioned to some degree and hopefully I'll be able to help someone... just one person.

My nature is to be an anxious person. I have had and sometimes still do have anxiety. Anxiety where I break from everything and everyone and will analyze every conversation literally as I stare at my phone for hours on end. And with great anxiety comes great other messy things.

According to Wikipedia (I know, don't judge!), depersonalization disorder (DPD), also known as depersonalization-derealization syndrome, is a mental disorder in which the person has persistent or recurrent feelings of depersonalization and/or derealization. Depersonalization is described as feeling disconnected or estranged from one's self. For me it's like being in the cinema... except the cinema is your life! There was a time quite recently that I was stuck in a bad situation, one that took a chunk of me to get a little lost in a place I couldn't easily get out of. I felt isolated, on my own and ashamed. I found it very difficult to deal with opinions shared (why yes... it is all in my head and no I can't just turn it off... the list goes on) and I guess as a result of trauma with a big T and the following traumas with a little t, shards of broken glass flew into my memories and my brain attempted to protect my brain. I became an observer in my own life.

My life was a cinema screen or a video on a smartphone. I felt the feelings, felt the reality, but somehow could do nothing to stop it. At my very low points, when I found a shard of glass in a memory or in a situation, I didn't even feel like I was in my own body. My hands were not my hands, my face was not my face and if I looked in the mirror I didn't recognize the person staring back.

That part of my life is fuzzy when I think about that time—I was on high alert, ready to break or ready to bust at any moment. What I do remember though is that I wished beyond all hope that someone would check in on me and make sure I was OK. I wasn't able to call for help because I didn't have my voice, I didn't have my body and I didn't have my head. My head was caught in an epic battle with my head and the depersonalization and derealization was real. My body was in complete shock and I knew I needed to change things around.

Like I said before, I have a fantastic support structure and with my husband and my family I was able to push myself to get the help I needed. So I went to my GP, got on some temporary medication, got some talk therapy and took some time to heal.

It took a while to get back to where I am now. There are still days and that's OK because they are fewer and farther between, thanks to my husband, my sisters, brother, friends, and family. I'm in a good place—my work gives me joy and my family and my pets are my world.

So if you know someone going through this, reach out and listen. And if you're going through some disassociation or anxiety—you're not alone.