I don't think well inside my head. I have to write or talk it out and sound like an idiot while I'm at it. So, here I go: I'm debating with myself over who I should tell about my MD and if I should even tell anyone at all. "Would it help?" Yeah, good question, me.
I know there have been plenty of other people here who have asked the same question, but if I don't get it out myself, I think I'll explode.
Here's the current situation: the only people I could tell are those within my family. I don't have any friends, and sadly, my family members aren't even friends, because while we interact (sorta) with each other on a day-to-day basis, nobody really knows me. Yes, it's because I don't talk. Yes, it's often my fault. Yes, I should talk more. Yes, I should try harder. Believe me—I know all that. But that's besides the point.
I feel an inconsistency between who I am on the inside and the person I express myself to be. It's not that I fail to be true to myself and it's not that I'm trying to deceive anyone. It's simply that my thoughts and feelings are so complex and abstract that I fail to form the words to properly express them. Consequently, I feel out of sync with everyone else, as if there's a glass wall separating me from them. I see them, I interact with them, but it's superficial and I can't truly connect. Add in feelings of derealization and depersonalization and I've got a big problem.
And so they are strangers, though they don't know it. All I want is someone—one person to listen to me, to not judge me, to talk to me. I don't need any more than that.
So, I've been thinking about telling someone about my daydreaming. There have been times when the opportunity has been there, and I even felt the urge to tell my secret—but it's always a familiar urge: the one I get in times of desperation—the one that, when I give in to it, always leaves me with feelings of regret and the same thought repeating in my mind: "They don't understand. Why did I ever say anything?"
I've been stupid and I've made mistakes, but I've done a lot of growing up over the years and I've learned to trust my instinct. Some people just make me uncomfortable. Some people I know I could talk to for hours. I don't know why I get these feelings, but I've found it to be dangerous to violate them, because, well—I've tried.
But today I want to do a thought experiment, and perhaps get some insight from my fellow daydreamers. :)
To tell my parents would require that I overcome an enormous obstacle: me. I've always been terribly afraid to approach my parents when it comes to serious matters. Of all the people in my family, my parents probably know me the least. We don't get each other. We think differently. There's nothing wrong with that, but when it comes to communicating, it makes things difficult, although not impossible.
I would certainly tell my mom. If either of them were to understand, it would be my mom, though I doubt even she would understand. If she weren't to freak out, she would at least become very worried about my state of mind. She would tell my dad and they would never see me the same. The conversation with her would lead to the cause of my MD, which, if I were to be honest—a policy of mine—I would tell her (very gently) that it was most likely due to the—uh, mistakes—she and dad made while raising me. Then she would cry and apologize a thousand times, and I would feel guilty for making her cry and cry myself. How does that help?
But my parents are the authority. They're the ones who can really make things happen, and if they understand me—the real me—they might understand why I've seemed to be so detached for all these years. But then again, while they might comprehend what I say, being 18 years old—oh, lucky, lucky me—I think I often get shoved into the "teenager box"—you know, that disgusting stereotype. "Oh, she's young—that's all. It will all pass with time."
I don't like this idea.
What about one of my siblings?
If I were to tell one of my siblings, it would have to be one of my sisters. She has a very active imagination, although as far as I know, hers isn't an obsession. She would probably understand, and in fact, she would like to understand me. A second opinion might help. She might be able to encourage me to tell my parents, if need be.
The major problem with her is that I feel SO uncomfortable around her. I hate myself for feeling so, but I can't help it. I know I mean something to her and she tries desperately to find out what's going on inside my head. But for some reason, her affection feels fake, her questions feel intrusive, and the "vibes" she sends in my direction frustrate me to no end. I can't connect to her emotions. *sigh*
Oh well. I debate in my mind, but come to no conclusion. And this is only the tip of the iceberg. MD is only one of my problems. If I tell someone about it, should I also tell them about my recurring feelings of depersonalization and derealization?
*pulls out hair*