Begin from the Beginning...

[Dusty Rose O'Connor]

Well and hello there. Pleasure to meet you, even if I cannot meet you, and a pleasure to see you even if I cannot see you. My name is Dusty, and I supposed I joined the site because I wanted to spill a bit of hope if I could.

I was actually directed here by a recent Yahoo article, which my roommate showed me because she knows my story. I had no idea this was a condition, but I suppose, thinking back on it, some things make a lot more sense now...

I was probably 7 or 8 when I started picking and choosing my favorite characters from movies I watched to be my imaginary friends, a miniature army to follow me around everywhere. That got to be a bit much, so I inverted the process, going into THEIR worlds.

What I am about to say, probably only you who have also experience this will fully understand. I have not read any stories on this site yet, so I do not know to what extent reality influences your wandering mind. I can tell you it had absolutely NO bearing on mine whatsoever.

In my own mind, I became a winged unicorn. No, I am not making fun of you. That was what I most wanted to be at age 7 or 8. I would transform in my mind every night, and take wing out my window, to plunge myself headlong into my favorite movie or the latest book I had read (I loved to read so very much). I developed, again, an entourage. My favorite friends from real life were also granted the power to become winged unicorns, and our small herd flew from novel to movie to show, righting wrongs, comforting the grief-stricken, and enduring hell from the bad guys.

Oh the bad guys. I must have had some kind of masochistic streak in my imaginings, because the worst possible things always happened to me. I emotionally tormented myself night after night that my parents and sisters had died, that I would be beaten, trapped, sold, flogged, mocked, and betrayed.

The 'herd' of friends changed over time, as did the content of my fantasies. I mean, Babes in Toyland is one thing when you're 8, but eventually it would give way to Spiderman, Lord of the Rings, and other more adult fairytales.

I would spend hours in my mind. My parents traveled a lot in the car, so I would stare out the window as the scenery passed, seeing, but not really seeing. I was worlds away. At night I would lie down to sleep, and for between one and two hours, I would have adventures.

When I was thirteen, I brought it to a complete and screeching halt. What enabled me to stop was that I believed God told me to stop. I am not suggesting that as a cure-all, or saying that's what you should use. That is, however, what enabled me to put the brakes on this other world at the age of 13. Quite literally, nothing else would have brought me to the point where I felt I had to stop. Although I stopped it completely at that time, it took me a full year to emotionally recover. I could not listen to certain kinds of music, and I could not watch any of the movies that triggered me during that time.

However, it was not too long after this that I began again, only in an external form. I began a text-based roleplay, and found it to be little different than what I'd done in my mind. The only difference was that other people, real people, were also interacting in my fantasies. This led to good and bad experiences, but for the most part it was good.

And it was insanely addicting. I spent nearly as much time in the roleplay world as the real world. It actually equated about the amount of hours I would have spent on a full time job. I had friends, but they were always second to roleplay. This went on from about age fifteen to twenty three. Actually, only six months back from the time of this writing. Again, I felt like God wanted me to stop. And it had to be crystal clear, not some vague feeling of guilt, and it became exactly that. Crystal clear. (again, this is my experience, not a guideline) It was, again, extremely difficult. I had constructed a character so elaborate, so a part of myself, I felt like I was killing off part of my soul almost.

What is the point of me writing all of this?

I am free.

It has been hell getting free, and occasionally I stare longingly at my friends who still roleplay. But I am now free to focus on real world things. I have a job, I have a shared apartment, and I have a novel in progress. The novel is my compromise with the fantastical, my entry back into a world that isn't real, but it can actually benefit someone other than me (once I finish it).

It was mentioned in the article that I read that there are often other disorders associated with this one. Mine include one of the six types of Bipolar (I forget which one, it's milder though), OCD, and Trichotillomania (Hair pulling due to anxiety). Of these, I am not free yet. But life is a work in progress, and there is always hope.

I hope that you do not take away from this blog that I'm saying to you "Just stop already!" That is the last thing I would say. People have asked me why I can't "Just stop" pulling my hair out, and I can't answer that. So I am not saying "Just stop" by any means. All I hope to do with this, is tell you that there is hope (if this is something you wish to come out from) and that, though it may be the hardest thing you've ever done, it is not impossible.