Maladaptive Daydreaming: where wild minds come to rest
Sorry this is formatted so poorly...
Yesterday I decided to just see if there was any info out there on excessive/obsessive daydreaming. I honestly have no idea about what prompted that, curiosity I guess. I have been doing this since I was about 11 years old. In the back of my mind I've always thought it was a bit strange, but I am a creative person (always useed to write, and still do occasionally) and have a very active imagination obviously.
I have done a lot of thinking since stumbling upon this discovery, the pieces falling into place. When I read the symptoms and definition and other people's experiences, etc. I had a wide mix of emotions (and still do). I was happy to find others like me, scared (does this mean I am nuts? It is a disorder.), angry (another disorder to add to my depression, anxiety (general and social), seaonal affective disorder) and confused and frustrated and anxious. I felt like I suddenly wanted to scream at the time of my lungs, tell everyone. But than I realized very quickly it would be impossible to tell people I know. It has always been this dirty little secret, which most days I enjoy. It's an escape.
The beginning is a good place to start.
I am an only child, and as one I often felt alone, despite playing with friends a lot. I think my parents sensed it and tried to spend a lot of time with me too.
When I was in grade 5 a new girl joined our class. At first I did not like her (silly peer pressure) but one day my mom suggested I have her over. After that we became best friends, and today she is still my closet friend, we have been there for each other through it all.
She came over that fatfal day, and we began to play with my dolls, they were called playground kids. It was just silly fun, naming them, making up stories for them, pretending they were in a tv show, famous. Soon after we began to write about them since she was also an avid writer. We emersed ourselves in this world. Almost every moment we were together we'd take the dolls out and begin to play for endless hours. I don't remember how, but one day it turned and the dolls started to have sexual actions, emotions, and feelings. I have nevr understood this because I was raised in a very sheltered home. But I do remember being really young (maybe 5) and pretending that a horse had a penis and somebody was riding on the horse, tugging at its penis. Just writing that out makes me feel like a freak. So where does this come from? I know I read Christian books that were non-fiction where prostitutes or drug addicts got saved. Why I was allowed to read this at such a young age I'll never know.
The boy dolls began to have groups of girl dolls, their posession and they would fight over them. The girls were satisfy the boys. It never seemed odd to either of us. Last year my friend apologized for it, saying it was inappropriate what we did, but I think there is nothing to apologize for - we were kids. Of course I just accepted it and didn't say anything else.
At one point one boy doll became our crush. We'd write love notes to him, he'd write them back. These dolls also all had different voices/accents, and we'd do them and talk aloud as we played with them.
Often we listened to music as we played, just whatever was popular around that time.
When I was alone, I woud line the dolls up (in a certain order) and just imagine stuff in my head, just sitting there, listening to music. I now know this is a symptom. Also I would dance around or pace back and forth in my room for hours listening to music, pretending to be a certain singer, lip synch, smile at the mirror.
I remember one time my mom walked in on me, and I was embarassed but she never said anything about it, but really why would she?
A few years later, maybe grade 7 or 8 we stopped playing with the dolls. But my imagination continued. I don't remember it being all that involved until I moved out of my parents house and into the city in 2006.
That is when it began to occupy a lot of my time. I often was alone, and would go into this world for hours and hours. I sometimes would lose track of time. I put off cleaning because I didn't want to stop. As I would back at my parents house, I'd often be paranoid somebody would come home and find me doing this. At my parents I would sometimes do it in the basement, where it was open. I had more room. I would blast music and walk around talking aloud as these people, switching roles back and forth, gesturing, laughing, etc.
I now know I did that a lot because I was lonely, I didn't know the city, my friends were occupied with their own lives most of the time, and I was in a long distance relationship which was often very emotionally hard.
As I said from than it became a lot more complex, intricate, lots of characterers, lots of different stories.
I counted yesterday and I have around 50. Most have full names, I know all of the small details - the hair and eye color and length, the make up they wear (for some reason my boys are very feminene), the clothing, the background, etc. It is a big soap opera. Someday loves somebody, but this person has a crush on the one. They boys are all famous celebrities, often what I listen to music wise or read becomes a part of this world. Bits of
this information becomes a part of a characters personality or story line.
I often relive the stories over and over, sometimes changing pieces, other times just enjoying the original idea. I have thought of making it into a big story, like I used to when I was younger, but I find now I cannot put it down on paper. It is too personal and honestly where to begin?
As I said earlier, a lot is sexual. Sometimes borderline pornographic. I am a very quiet, shy person, so people would be shocked to know this. I did write a story once of two gay boys and it got a bit risque, my friends read it and loved it. A few of my characters are bi or gay.
I am now a married woman, and I have thought before of sharing this, but than I start to think that it would cause a lot of weirdness - I may be asked who these characters are, why did I keep it a secret, and be asked to explain it all. Which I cannot do.
In the past and now I have often lay in bed awake thinking of the world and I have lost hours and hours of sleep. I find I can daydream about it with people around, but it is harder to do, and often I want to be alone to do it. - and I cannot be when you live with somebody else, unless they are away.
Although sometimes I have thought about it in the shower, or cleaning. It is so easy to slip into that state of mind.Most of the time I enjoy it, it's an escape, it's creative, and it is like a story I have been writing in my mind for almost 16 years.
Having been into writing, I do not see it often as a bad thing, it is just a way somebody expresess themselves.
Other times I feel like I am crazy, and that I need to grow up and move on. I wonder how long this will go on.
I am so thankful for finding this site. I may bring this up with my therapist if I get the chance to, I think talking to somebody who does not know me personally could be a good thing.
It feels very strange to be writing this all out to strangers, posting it on a board, because frankly it is such a precious thing to me.
But I want to connect.
If you read this all and want to comment please do!