For those of you who have been on the board for a while, my old username was Icculus (I am now the 'Icculus of the Future'), and most of my posting was done during the 2001-2002 school year. I was a college freshman and HPPD was scaring the @#%$ out of me. I spent most of that year drunk because it was the only thing that dulled the hallucinations, and the only thing that made me calm enough to avoid DP/DR. This drinking habit sprung some bad classroom habits - i.e., NEVER attending class, and I was kicked out of school. Anyhow, this ended up lighting a fire under my ass and I was so concerned with getting back into school that HPPD was the last thing on my mind. I am happy to report that I am back in school and I have been getting straight A's ever since. Things can, indeed, work out for the best.
HPPD can be an emotionally taxing experience. My first year of HPPD was hell. For the first year I was too scared to do almost anything, as I said, I wound up doing very poorly in my first year of college, spending most of my time huddled under my covers in my dorm room (I had a single), or out medicating my fears and depression with alcohol. My HPPD actually got worse during the second year, but it was during this year that I finally beat it for good.
My visual problems became more frequent and more irritating, and my episodes of DP/DR became so frequent that I had almost forgotten what it was like to go through a normal day. When you are in the depths of derealization, you feel like you've actually stepped into hell; nothing seems familiar; everything has a dark, twisted, evil feeling to it (or sometimes just an empty, fake, plastic feel); your house looks so fake, so pathetic. All around you there is a mocking laughter (at least in your mind); to me, it actually felt like Satan himself was showing me the cold, bleak reality of the world for the first time and laughing at my prior ignorance, my silly hopes for happiness. It felt like he was showing me that behind everything that appears good and right in the world, there lies a dark malice, a sniveling, selfish motive. In other words, it was some f*cked up sh*t. Now perhaps some of that feeling was made more vivid and evil by my horrible anxiety at the time, but I could nothing to mediate it. When faced with problems like these, especially if they are a daily occurrence, its hard to see any hope.
For all those struggling with the disorder, I know that things can seem bleak, but in every grey cloud there is a silver lining. HPPD can be the worst, the scariest, most emotionally straining thing a person can go through but it can also be the most important. Because I developed HPPD, I stopped using Ecstasy. I was literally killing my brain cells with Ecstasy. Recent studies indicate that the damage done by MDMA (Ecstasy) can be permanent. If it weren't for HPPD, I would no doubt still be using, and killing more precious serotonin neurons everytime I used. HPPD actually saved my brain, in a sense. HPPD has become sort of a companion to me, if one can believe it. I think that if the HPPD were cured, I would feel a bit odd. Seriously.
There are some key things that will help you overcome your anxiety, your DP/DR; in other words, the bad part. We are all annoyed by the visual disturbances, but until you've had DP/DR or anxiety attacks, you won't understand why HPPD can REALLY suck. You'll be begging for your days of geometric patterns and negative afterimages.
Anyhow, the thing that helped me the MOST was this board. I sat many nights trembling at the keyboard in my dorm room, trying to find some comfort. To be able to talk to other people who have the disorder, especially those who have beaten it, is HUGELY instrumental on the road to recovery. Now saying 'those who have beaten it' does not mean the disorder is cured. As far as I know, the disorder tends to be permanent. However, it is VERY possible to overcome the fear, the anxiety. In other words, you can eventually choose how you want to react to the disorder, and it becomes a nonissue in your life. Without this board, without the support system, I'm not sure I would have fared this well. Of course, if you are reading this, you've already discovered the board, and you should count yourself lucky. Methlab is quite a calming presence when everything seems to be spinning out of control.
Second, I began to realize that my life was still going on, even though I was crouched in the corner, hallucinating and letting the demons take over. Even with all the horrible derealization that was going on, deep down, I still knew there was a real world out there. After a while, my life got so mixed up that I just threw up my hands and said, "F*ck!! Fine!! Bring on the @#%$ HPPD, I don't f*cking care anymore!!" This, while seemingly a cry of desperation, was actually quite cathartic, and helped me a lot. I finally realized that I could go out there and take my damn life back again, I just had to grin and bear it for a while. This can be incredibly hard to do, especially with DP/DR, but it CAN be done.
The third and final thing that helped me was time. The tired adage, "time heals all wounds" has never been more appropriate. After a year or two (I'm about 2.5 years in), you become so used to the disorder that it seems silly to even pay it any mind. HPPD, now, is the least of my worries. Even though I continue to see the trails, the afterimages, the patterns, the static, the colors, the whole bit, I hardly notice them. It seems impossible. When it first started, and my visuals weren't as bad, every time a saw a trail or spots I would be reminded of the problem and I would sit and worry for the next few hours. Now, seeing static and patterns is like seeing anything else. It's just there. Also, once you are able to really accept the condition, the DP/DR will soon be gone. Before the DP/DR left, however, it became so commonplace that I didn't really mind it anyway. Once that happens, it probably won't be around much longer.
So I beat the disorder without using any SSRI's or 'benzos', and I'd be willing to bet that anyone could. The biggest hurdle is psychological. The biggest ones tend to be.
Good Luck to all those caught in the struggle, I hope this helped.
Icculus 2004 (from the future)
HPPD can be an emotionally taxing experience. My first year of HPPD was hell. For the first year I was too scared to do almost anything, as I said, I wound up doing very poorly in my first year of college, spending most of my time huddled under my covers in my dorm room (I had a single), or out medicating my fears and depression with alcohol. My HPPD actually got worse during the second year, but it was during this year that I finally beat it for good.
My visual problems became more frequent and more irritating, and my episodes of DP/DR became so frequent that I had almost forgotten what it was like to go through a normal day. When you are in the depths of derealization, you feel like you've actually stepped into hell; nothing seems familiar; everything has a dark, twisted, evil feeling to it (or sometimes just an empty, fake, plastic feel); your house looks so fake, so pathetic. All around you there is a mocking laughter (at least in your mind); to me, it actually felt like Satan himself was showing me the cold, bleak reality of the world for the first time and laughing at my prior ignorance, my silly hopes for happiness. It felt like he was showing me that behind everything that appears good and right in the world, there lies a dark malice, a sniveling, selfish motive. In other words, it was some f*cked up sh*t. Now perhaps some of that feeling was made more vivid and evil by my horrible anxiety at the time, but I could nothing to mediate it. When faced with problems like these, especially if they are a daily occurrence, its hard to see any hope.
For all those struggling with the disorder, I know that things can seem bleak, but in every grey cloud there is a silver lining. HPPD can be the worst, the scariest, most emotionally straining thing a person can go through but it can also be the most important. Because I developed HPPD, I stopped using Ecstasy. I was literally killing my brain cells with Ecstasy. Recent studies indicate that the damage done by MDMA (Ecstasy) can be permanent. If it weren't for HPPD, I would no doubt still be using, and killing more precious serotonin neurons everytime I used. HPPD actually saved my brain, in a sense. HPPD has become sort of a companion to me, if one can believe it. I think that if the HPPD were cured, I would feel a bit odd. Seriously.
There are some key things that will help you overcome your anxiety, your DP/DR; in other words, the bad part. We are all annoyed by the visual disturbances, but until you've had DP/DR or anxiety attacks, you won't understand why HPPD can REALLY suck. You'll be begging for your days of geometric patterns and negative afterimages.
Anyhow, the thing that helped me the MOST was this board. I sat many nights trembling at the keyboard in my dorm room, trying to find some comfort. To be able to talk to other people who have the disorder, especially those who have beaten it, is HUGELY instrumental on the road to recovery. Now saying 'those who have beaten it' does not mean the disorder is cured. As far as I know, the disorder tends to be permanent. However, it is VERY possible to overcome the fear, the anxiety. In other words, you can eventually choose how you want to react to the disorder, and it becomes a nonissue in your life. Without this board, without the support system, I'm not sure I would have fared this well. Of course, if you are reading this, you've already discovered the board, and you should count yourself lucky. Methlab is quite a calming presence when everything seems to be spinning out of control.
Second, I began to realize that my life was still going on, even though I was crouched in the corner, hallucinating and letting the demons take over. Even with all the horrible derealization that was going on, deep down, I still knew there was a real world out there. After a while, my life got so mixed up that I just threw up my hands and said, "F*ck!! Fine!! Bring on the @#%$ HPPD, I don't f*cking care anymore!!" This, while seemingly a cry of desperation, was actually quite cathartic, and helped me a lot. I finally realized that I could go out there and take my damn life back again, I just had to grin and bear it for a while. This can be incredibly hard to do, especially with DP/DR, but it CAN be done.
The third and final thing that helped me was time. The tired adage, "time heals all wounds" has never been more appropriate. After a year or two (I'm about 2.5 years in), you become so used to the disorder that it seems silly to even pay it any mind. HPPD, now, is the least of my worries. Even though I continue to see the trails, the afterimages, the patterns, the static, the colors, the whole bit, I hardly notice them. It seems impossible. When it first started, and my visuals weren't as bad, every time a saw a trail or spots I would be reminded of the problem and I would sit and worry for the next few hours. Now, seeing static and patterns is like seeing anything else. It's just there. Also, once you are able to really accept the condition, the DP/DR will soon be gone. Before the DP/DR left, however, it became so commonplace that I didn't really mind it anyway. Once that happens, it probably won't be around much longer.
So I beat the disorder without using any SSRI's or 'benzos', and I'd be willing to bet that anyone could. The biggest hurdle is psychological. The biggest ones tend to be.
Good Luck to all those caught in the struggle, I hope this helped.
Icculus 2004 (from the future)
