MD just fading away

[Fallen Messenger]

I am 20 now and I used to be utterly immersed in daydreaming since as young as I can remember. My dreamworld was constantly growing increasingly complex. This continued until I turned 18 and moved out. At the time, I had a lot of trauma in relation to my family, but as soon as I moved out, the daydreams just… faded away. No compulsions. It’s almost like I grew out of it. It’s odd, it’s been two years and I still haven’t had a compulsion. It’s incredibly freeing, but I miss it. Anyways I’m not sure why I’m posting this, but maybe it’s hope that it can in fact be grown out of.

[Jessica Ballantyne]

Well I quit MD, it just went too far. It distracted me from living my life. It didn't promise me anything better will happen. I'm regret ever falling into it. MD was a trap. My health wasn't the same afterwards. 

[Source]

I'm glad to hear you're finally free. This kind of daydreaming is a form of torture, and every second spent in it is one second too many.

I feel I should point one thing out, though: be very careful about missing it. It existed as a sign of serious issues in your life, no matter how thick the disguise as an enjoyable pastime. Don't ever fall for the temptation of romanticizing it, and don't underestimate it should it ever reappear.
The comparison of MD to hard drugs is more fitting than it might seem. You won't miss the high unless you conveniently forget about the misery.

[Jessica Ballantyne]

I wish that my compulsions stopped by that age, but I wasn't that lucky. My MD was strong enough to make me belief whatever it told me. Apparently in my real surrounding environment, lots of people remarked that I appeared like I was someplace else. Thing is MD filled me with hope of a fantastic future—when I was 20. So I actually took it they were being judgy. Everywhere I went, school, work, social...I was under the influence of MD. Still, people were wondering if I was Ok, I was making strange faces, gestures and movements, was even jumping up and down on my chair! Scary thing is I didn't realize that I suffered from a mental illness and needed psychiatric help. As I got older and older, my MD eventually diminished over time, and I scarcely do it anymore. Yet, it did a bit of damage to my way of living. 

My mom finally found out my daydreaming disorder, when I was 24. She wouldn't let it go, ever. She talked me out of ever succeeding in any job that I got, and told me to stick to being an artist. Whereas, my dad was insistent that I launch a career and make a good salary, so I can move out of their house someday, which never happened at all. Still to this day I'm struggling. I often blame it on living in other worlds. As past co-workers and employers have complained that they found me quite deaf.