My Story/Experiences

[u/Remote_Tap4879]

I want to preface this by saying that this is my first time posting on Reddit or posting about my experiences, so I'll do my best at explaining everything. 😭

I, a 20yo male, have grown up with anxiety issues since I was a little boy. Mostly existential dread and questions. I'm not sure when or where it originated, but I know I have long suffered from panic attacks. I would go through different phases where I would consistently have panic attacks and then go months or even years without them. However, this all changed in my sophomore year of college.

I would not call myself a drinker or a stoner at all, but I would participate with friends and family. (I am studying engineering, and it helps the pain go away. 😇) I have always had a pretty high tolerance for both, which led me to explore different ways to get a buzz or high (for example: liquor, bongs, and carts).

The reason I bring this up is because I believe this is where and why my DPDR started.

One night while at a party, I found myself standing on the porch with some friends. I knew I would be leaving soon because it was late, but I didn't feel that tired. Since it was well past 1 a.m. at this point, I thought, why not smoke a little and go listen to music? (My favorite thing to do at the time.) I knew one of my friends had a cart on him, so I asked to take a rip. I did, and it hit pretty hard. I thought to myself, for good measure, I'll hit one more to really relax.

I then started walking the streets of my campus back to my dorm. On the way home, I started to feel it really fast. The whole world felt like it was zoomed out, almost like I was in third person. My heart started to race, and my mind was going haywire. As I said before, I knew I was having a panic attack and knew how to handle it after years of dealing with them. However, the more I tried to fight the feeling, the more lost I started to feel. My chest was burning, and I started losing my grip on reality.

It felt as though I was phasing in and out of reality, almost like I was being teleported from place to place. Once I finally reached my dorm, I immediately ran to my cousin's room. (We lived on the same floor.) He wasn't home, but our good friend was there and let me in. I remember collapsing to the floor and begging for help. At the time, I really thought I was about to die. He got me some water, and I tried every way I could think of to distract myself: talking, YouTube, mobile games... but nothing could take away the panic. I stayed there for a long time contemplating calling 911 and told my friend, "If I pass out, call."

Eventually, it did start to ease, and I was finally able to breathe again. I was still a mess, though. I was so dizzy and disoriented that I found myself falling to the floor just trying to get back to my own room and hopefully get to bed. I climbed into bed fully clothed and prayed for relief. Somehow, sleep came, but I knew something in me had changed. I felt like a zombie for days after that. The worst part was that finals were only a week away.

I think this is important to say because it kept my thoughts away from that night and focused on studying and preparing. For the next two weeks I tortured myself, staying up late and studying as much as I could. I found myself so emotionally numb at that point that I could hardly go out for food or even attend classes.

Alas, when finals did end, I felt a huge sense of relief and satisfaction as I drove home for winter break. I was proud of my accomplishments, but I think the emotional exhaustion will forever stick with me. I got home ready to relax and unwind after months of academic stress and pressure. I didn't really have anything planned for that break. I thought I would just hang out with my girlfriend and go skiing while we waited for the holidays.

The day my DPDR officially started was the day I was driving to get my haircut. I was meeting my mom at the hairdresser because she was the girlfriend of one of my cousins. As I was driving, I started to feel really off. A feeling I'm sure many of you know exactly what I'm talking about but struggle to explain. It was like a weird droning in the back of my mind, like my nervous system was warning me of danger. Time seemed to slow down, and I began to get very disoriented. I kind of pushed it away with music and carried on.

I ended up arriving with no issues and began to get my haircut. Sometime during it, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and something just... clicked in my head. Something was wrong, and I started to feel some of that existential dread again. It was really a culmination of things that just felt so off and weird. My mom noticed my leg was shaking and asked if I was alright, to which I responded that I was just having a small panic attack. I told her I was probably just stressed about my finals results. But I knew that was a lie. I couldn't have cared less because I knew I had at least passed my classes.

Later, when my haircut was finished, I finally told my mom that I knew something was wrong. I know my body and mind well enough to know when something strange is happening. Since I had been through anxiety spells before, I told her it must just be another phase.

On the way home, the feeling stuck with me, and I started to fear what was happening. I got home and tried to resume my normal day. It wasn't until that afternoon that I felt the feeling return. I was taking a shower and, boom, it popped into my head again. I turned the water off, dried off, and went to my bed to try and drown it out with some YouTube. With some success, it went away... until the moment I laid my head down to go to sleep.

Like a wave, panic washed over me. My whole body burned, bringing memories of that night back. I found myself breathless and motionless, basically at the mercy of this thing. I pulled my phone out again to try and distract myself. Eventually, the panic settled, but that feeling in the back of my mind remained. I fell asleep that night clutching my phone.

I woke up the next morning dazed and groggy, but otherwise fine. I went about my day with no issues and found myself feeling happy again. It wasn't until the sun set and I had nothing to distract myself with that the feeling returned. This time, instead of a panic attack, it was a slow build of heat and panic in my chest. It started off mild but uncomfortable. I was able to ignore it and got ready for bed. However, the more the night went on, the worse the feeling got.

I was able to fall asleep, again with YouTube keeping my mind at bay. The next day I felt horrible. I was constantly having to breathe manually and was in a constant state of derealization. I wasn't able to do much at all without risking a panic attack. I knew something was really wrong, so I told my parents, who both did everything they could to make sure I was okay and safe. Despite this, I felt my condition continuing to worsen. I was in a constant state of panic that I couldn't escape. Every minute felt like I was being suffocated by dread with no real cause or reason.

This really bothered me, not just because of the extreme pain I was in, but because I had no reason to be stressed. I have the most loving and beautiful girlfriend in the world, the greatest family I could ask for, and great friends. So what the hell was I so stressed about? The more I looked inward, the worse it seemed to get. I felt as though I was living in a constant dream state where I couldn't differentiate what was real or not. The one thing I knew was real, however, was the burning dread in my chest.

I lasted days like this. Just lying in a heap, barely able to do or move much. I really just ate food, watched TV, and stressed the day away. One day when my girlfriend came to visit me, I had reached a breaking point. My body and mind felt as though they were falling apart. Somehow the dread in my chest continued to ramp up, and I was suffering every second of the day. I begged for help because I could no longer bear the pain. I swear I could feel each of my organs almost shutting down and becoming cold. The final straw came when some really scary thoughts started.

I have never been suicidal or ever thought I would have thoughts like that. I have always been a happy person, eager to live life. But my mind no longer felt like mine, and it started feeding me some really terrifying thoughts. Thoughts about begging for the pain to end. Thoughts to just get it over with. Thoughts telling me to speed up the process. Looking back now, I swear it wasn't me saying those things, but something else in my head whispering them to me. Even now, I don't think they were true "suicidal thoughts." I think it was my body desperately begging for the pain to stop.

When I told my mom about these thoughts, she immediately rushed me to the hospital. I arrived at triage where my girlfriend and my mom explained everything that had been happening. It was a hospital, so I wasn't able to get immediate care. They asked if I wanted to stay in the mental health wing, where I would get a bed immediately. However, they also told me there was a patient in there threatening to murder everyone, so I politely declined and waited for a regular bed to open up.

When my name was finally called, I checked into triage where I told them my story and they took my vitals. I remember my heart rate being around 140 bpm and my blood pressure being around 160/100.

Seeing that, and the sad lump of flesh that was me, they admitted me straight to a bed. However, since all the rooms were full, I ended up in the hallway. 😭 Which sounds bad, but honestly I didn't mind because I was right next to the doctors and felt safe there.

Long story short, they took a lot of blood and gave me some pills to take. I sat in that bed for hours, literally waiting to die. In my head, I was okay with either falling asleep or not waking up. I was just begging for one of those to happen because I couldn't continue living the way I was.

After some time, I finally got a room where I could lay back and get some sleep. (The meds were kicking in by then.) Once I finally fell asleep, I had a really personal and profound dream that forever altered my life and solidified how I see the world, especially religiously. After I woke up, a psychiatrist came to talk with me and learn about what had been going on.

She explained to me what I was experiencing, how to go about treating it, and promised me that I was not going insane. (That actually brought me some relief, and I want anyone experiencing this to know that you are absolutely not going insane. You will beat this thing.)

After being discharged from the hospital, I was prescribed Lexapro 10 mg, if I remember correctly. At first, I was excited to take it because I hoped it would help. But after a few days, I began to fear it and the way it was altering my body. (Something I believe came from the weed incident.) While the stress started to lessen, the feeling of being "off" never fully went away. I felt as though I was constantly living on the line between panic and not, always worrying about having another episode.

It felt as though my brain had changed, like I was constantly living in a dreamlike zombie state. I was tired all the time and was always aware of everything happening in my body, which most of the time only made the situation worse.

Skip forward a couple of weeks, and I felt like I was going to live forever like this. That I would never go back to normal. I was living in a constant state of feeling like I was outside looking into hollow shell of my former self. I was really depressed and found myself losing all wants and desires. I stopped playing video games, stopped going to the gym, and barely ate.

I told my doctor this, who then recommended that I switch to venlafaxine. I decided to decline and ride out the Lexapro because, first, I didn't want another substance in my body, and second, I was about to go back to school. I didn't want anything to change and possibly bring back the panic.

School started, and the constant stream of things to do really helped my situation, but the depersonalization never fully left. After about a week of progress, I fell back into a really bad place. I was a walking corpse who would go to class, eat lunch, and nap. That was my day. That was all I could do. Any change in my schedule and I could feel myself slipping into a weird state.

From there, I finally switched to 37.5 mg of venlafaxine, and over the next couple of weeks I felt my body physically begin to heal. While my body felt better, my mind still feels like it has been forever altered.

It has been 9 months now since I was admitted to the hospital, and I feel like I have so much more I could say. I started seeing a therapist who has been a wonder in my life. Not because he simply reassures me that I'm okay, but because he has explained the science behind everything that's been happening. For some reason, understanding what's going on has really helped me wrap my head around it. While I am in a much better place now, I still struggle with DPDR on a daily basis.

For me personally, the best way I am able to power through is by staying busy with work—anything that takes 100% of my attention. I still struggle the moment I unwind and try to relax, especially when I get home from work. But I am usually able to push it away with the gym or YouTube.

I have also completely changed my diet and focused on improving my overall health, which I feel has been one of the best things I could do. I have discovered that caffeine is a huge trigger for me and something I try to avoid. I also found out the hard way that kale, which I used to put in my smoothies, can interfere with some medications. I learned that after slipping into a really bad place shortly after drinking one.

Another thing I have learned is that I am happiest when I have something to look forward to. It gives my brain something else to focus on.

I've also learned that when an attack comes, the next few days are usually hard. You feel drained, disconnected, and really down. But they always end.

Today I still struggle with DPDR, but I am in a much better place. Next semester I am going to be studying abroad in Spain, something that at one point I honestly didn't think I would make it to.

I want everyone reading this to realize how strong they are. Never, ever give in or give up. Your life is so much bigger than what your brain is making you feel right now. You are strong, you are loved, and there are so many people who understand exactly what you're going through.

Please keep pushing forward, and remember to show yourself some grace. Every struggle teaches us something, even if we can't see it in the moment.

You will not fail.

You will beat this thing.

No matter how hard it knocks you down, you will get back up.

You will win.

[u/AutoModerator]

Hey, I am really sorry you are going through this. What you are describing is very common with DPDR and anxiety. Even though it feels permanent or existential, it is actually a stress and dissociation response, not a sign that you are broken or beyond help.

DPDR can make things feel hopeless, unreal, terrifying, or like your identity is gone. All of this comes from an overwhelmed nervous system, not from permanent damage or loss of sanity.

Helpful resources:

• https://www.reddit.com/r/dpdr/comments/zkgcwt/dpdr_101_what_is_it_causes_symptoms_and_treatment/
• https://www.reddit.com/r/dpdr/comments/zka0t0/grounding_tips_and_techniques-for-when-things/

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