Fifty-eight thousand two hundred forty

This post here was initially just a comment which I wanted to leave under my last post, but then it all just exploded and I decided to make it a separate post.

First of all, I wanted to thank you all for the replies in my previous posts. I want you to know that I really appreciate that you're reading these short texts and that you share your own experience - it's somehow empowering. Surprisingly.

It feels nice to know that I'm not alone with this, that there are other people who experience the very same thing, but at the same time, there's this voice somewhere at the back of my head which says 'this is madness and nobody deserves this!'. And I think it's right - none of us really deserves going through this, however ridiculous it may sound for those people who don't understand what it's like.

Sometimes I wish I could just erase all that daydreams from my head, but every time I force myself to stay 'here' I start to feel empty, as if I annihilated a huge part of my life within a blink of an eye. Because daydreams are a huge part of my life and it's quite a demanding one, so there's no much time left for this world's stuff. It's a vicious circle. 

Quite recently I tried to calculate roughly how much time of my life I've spent daydreaming (which was already difficult to asses since I can slip into my daydreams so easily at any time) and, if my calculations were right, so far I've spent around 58,240 hours daydreaming. That is 2,426 days.  Almost seven years.

Slightly less than one third of my life I've been living in some imaginary world created in my head. And that scares me. 

Until now, I wasn't truly aware of how big this number is. Now, I can understand why very often I'm struggling to keep in touch with my family and friends, doing the uni stuff and performing any other mundane tasks of the every day. I began to understand that I've been a very busy person. That it's extremely difficult to reconcile those two worlds, those two lives - actually, trying to stuff them into the mold designed just for one. Especially that our daydreams are in most cases our secret and they can't be used in any way as an excuse to gain some more time. It's an enormous endeavour to function in our society, more or less properly, and leading this second, clandestine life. 

Now, I can understand that I could have spent those fifty-eight thousand two hundred fourty hours on something else. On something which would connect me to this world, to the real people. I could have learned and gained those skills which occupies most of my daydreams since I was a kid. I could have met the real people who would function as those imaginary ones. I could have developed myself into being the person I'm there. But I haven't. Instead, I've spent those hours pacing around, mumbling something under my nose or  saying out loud, making gestures and facial expressions. Plunging into an illusionary world, but at the same time trying to be vigilant in the real one to avoid getting caught by the others - like a pendulum which slips from one side to another. Without an end. 

There's a storm in my head now.

But one thing I know: I mustn't regret. It won't change a thing. 

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Comment by FELLOWmder on February 19, 2019 at 9:06pm
Well, although i haven't realized that i was a daydreamer until two years back, but seemingly i can understand it very well, being a high school student. I have wondered over the reasons why i continue to be so pathetic. Maybe it is the high mark that we set for our characters, that they are outrageously good, fantastic unearthly humans
(in my dreams). i guess if we try making our fantasies less of that immense awesomeness then things might work out a bit better. you can try doing the things you wanted one at a time, like taking baby steps maybe. HOPE we all try our best. (sorry for the long comment)
Comment by The1andonlyAbber on February 28, 2015 at 7:48pm
No wonder everyone else seems to have so much more time than I do...
Comment by Eretaia on February 17, 2015 at 2:20pm

I read all your blogs and I wanted to send you a private message but the forum wouldn't let me before sending you a friend request. Anyway, something about your post I can't really pinpoint struck me real hard. I don't know if it's because you remind me of me or because of the way you write but it feels like you've come to terms with the absurdity of lives we've been leading. Many people are aware of the senselessness that comes with being a dreamer but not many come to terms with it. I've been exactly through what you're describing and I'd really like to talk to you about this more but I'm not sure if you'll see this post so I'll just stop here.

Also, I'll agree with all my heart: you mustn't regret. Maladaptive daydreaming was born to take on all the pain you were too weak to carry. But if it weren't for it, the depression you feel would've still been there. It would have blocked you and prevented you from developing just as fantasy did. Those fifty-eight thousand two hundred forty hours wasted are not your fault so please don't blame yourself, don't regret a single second. If it weren't for MD, maybe you would've looked for a solution earlier but you would've still had a war to wage with some other problem that underlies your MD. In any case, you are stronger now. Reality slapped you so hard, you hit rock bottom, and now all you can do is try to stand up. This time, without MD.

Comment by MatthewR on February 10, 2015 at 3:31pm

Yes, i know what you mean. When you put the number of hours spent in a fantasy world next to the number you've spent in actuality, it's quite harrowing. Where does the time go? What has come of it? I need my imagination to live, but i also need to live in plain sight instead of in my head. Surely there must be some happy medium between the two.

Comment by Ivy White on February 4, 2015 at 7:53am

I never dared to calculate it. I know I've had periods where the daydreaming went away, like when I was madly in love, or so depressed I couldn't dd any more. I think trying to stop flat out is not an option or a possibility, but moderation is. But it's so hard, because it is like your drug of choice is always present in your head.

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