A bit of Preface
For years, I’ve always struggled to put into words, what exactly DPDR made me feel. Then, I stumbled upon a post on r/dpdr that for the most part, put it into words, perfectly, this post was written by u/lunar_limbo.
The Train That Hit Me
I have always held great empathy. To the point I would be overcome by others stories. I would live them.
This, the first thing after the preface, tugged at my heart strings right away. I instantly connected with luna right here, for throughout the years I’ve had DPDR, while feeling robbed of my own feelings, I was always able to empathize with others on a level I never saw among my peers.
I am nothing. Merely a reflecting pond for others to find meaning in their lives.
For years I’ve tried to help others with their lives, hoping someday to find some way to make my own better, but in doing so, largely only ended up helping others. A sad consequence of this has been the further erosion of my own identity. In that sense, I too am merely a reflection pond.
I am incapable of holding healthy people’s attention.
While for me, not entirely true (as I’ve learned to mesh into social environments). It still resonates with me because of my own social difficulties I’ve encountered due to DPDR.
DP killed me before I ever had a chance. I can only cope inside.
This, a snippet of the penultimate paragraph is what really hit home for me, what made me feel I wasn’t entirely alone. I too feel like DPDR silently stripped my identity from me, before I was able to ever solidify it.
Thanks
I can not put into words how greatful I am for stumbling upon luna’s post, it laid to rest the struggle for words I have tried to find for so long.