Depersonalization: A Silent Epidemic

Depersonalization The Silent Epidemic

When I first experienced depersonalization, ten years ago, I knew nothing about it. I’d never even heard of the condition. Not in books, not in films, not even in my years of having a passing interest in psychology and spiritual practice.

When I began to experience it chronically and consistently, as a result of an intense panic attack (the first I’d ever had), it felt like I’d been shoved headfirst into some sort of alternate reality. The whole world seemed different, changed. I didn’t want to eat, drink, socialize. All I could do was focus intensely on this absolutely bizarre feeling that simply wouldn’t dissipate.

I remember lying on my bed and thinking, “What have I done to myself?” As if I had personally brought the condition on or done something to deserve it.

What is depersonalization?

Depersonalization is an anxiety-triggered feeling of being cut off from reality. It manifests in various ways but the most common symptoms are:

  • feeling as though you are in some sort of dream state,
  • feeling as though you or the people around you are not real,
  • feeling as though you have become detached from the world;
  • feeling as though you are watching your thoughts, feelings and physical self, from outside of yourself;
  • feeling as though you are not in control of your speech or your physical movements;

Most people experience it briefly at one point or another in their lives, but for some it can become a chronic, terrifying and ongoing affliction.

My own experience of depersonalization.

When I tried to describe my symptoms to my family members, they were at a loss. Attempting to verbally define what I was feeling (being stuck behind a pane of glass, unsure if I was awake or dreaming) usually resulted in a conversation so outlandish that most people simply didn’t know how to react. To others I looked like I was ok, so surely these weird thoughts were surely a passing phase.

But I was far from being ok.

In fact, those few months before I started making my first tentative steps towards recovery were the toughest thing I’ve ever had to go through. At one point, with my mind frantically searching for answers for what I was experiencing, I began to seriously question if it was possible that I had actually died on that first night of the panic attack, and that I was now in some sort of purgatorial state. Maybe I’d suffered a psychotic break? Would I ever be the same? It was terrifying to the point of incapacitation.

It was only through weeks and months of researching on the internet that, via a process of elimination and documentation, I was able to start to figure out what was happening to me.

And yet when I did find the websites that explained what I was experiencing, they were of almost no comfort whatsoever. As is standard for conditions on the anxiety spectrum, the forums were populated almost entirely by people who had not yet recovered from DP, but were actively exacerbating the condition by logging on to these sites every day in order to document their feelings. Some of these people had had the condition for decades. Why would my case be any different?

It seemed that no matter where I looked, I could either find no information on the condition at all, or terrifying portents of a future with no recovery on the horizon. It was profoundly depressing and upsetting.

This might seem like a perfect storm of circumstances, but the fact is that this is very similar what most people go through when they develop depersonalization. It is one of the most common conditions in the world almost everyone experiences it briefly at one time or another, and for one in fifty people (up to 2% of the population) it becomes chronic and unremitting.

And yet, the fact that it’s so common is absolutely not reflected in people’s’ general awareness of it. If you experience flu symptoms, you know that you’re getting a flu. If you sprain your ankle, you know what it is and how to treat it.

Even if it’s something more subjective, like a panic attack, people tend to recognise (either immediately or soon after) what they have experienced. This is because we have a cultural awareness of these things. We know them. We recognize them.

We don’t, however, recognize depersonalization. Back when I spoke my local doctor about what I was experiencing, he looked at me blankly and kept asking me if I was feeling ‘depressed’, put me on medication and recommended that I get more daily exercise. In fact, it wasn’t until 6 months later when I was seeing a psychologist that I was even able to discuss depersonalization with someone who had even a vague awareness of the condition.

That was a huge relief. I realised that until that point I had sabotaged my recovery by looking at DP forums every single day for months on end (and yet, I am still extremely grateful that I was able to access the internet and at least find an explanation, however upsetting, for what I was experiencing).

And while awareness of DP still remains at a low level, all the signs show that the number of cases is shooting up. Rates of stress and anxiety (precursors to and causes of chronic DP) are higher than ever. And as strains of marijuana become stronger, people are experiencing weed induced DP at shocking levels. I certainly don’t mean this as a condemnation of weed or drugs in general, but the insanely high strengths of many popular strains, and the culture of smoking weed casually is undoubtedly contributing to high rates of depersonalization and other anxiety-spectrum disorders.

The fact is that depersonalization is an epidemic, a terrible affliction and statistically there’s a strong chance that someone you know already has it.

And it’s time to discuss it out in the open. We need to talk about it positively We need to hear the recovery stories, the things that cause it, the fact that it is not a permanent condition. If we do that enough, maybe we’ll see a day where, when people first experience DP, they will recognize it and not assume that they are losing their mind. That simple of act of recognition, made possible through awareness, could save people months and even years of trauma, confusion and fear.


shaun-dcshorts_largeAbout the Author: Shaun O’Connor

Shaun O Connor is a filmmaker and writer from Co. Kerry, Ireland.

He is the author of The Depersonalization Manual, a book which details his recovery from chronic depersonalization and provides a complete guide to recovery for sufferers of the condition. 

First published as an ebook in 2008, it has since expanded to become a full package with an audio version, bonus supplementary materials and has sold over 7,000 copies worldwide. You can find more about Shaun’s experience with depersonalization here.

Shaun is also a multi award-winning television and film director whose work has screened around the world, including at the Dublin, Helsinki and Boston Film Festivals.

See here for details of Shaun’s book, The Depersonalization Manual

You can follow Shaun on Twitter, Youtube, and Instagram.

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We don’t need to protect kids from the discomfort of anxiety.

We’ll want to, but as long as they’re safe (including in their bodies with sensory and physiological needs met), we don’t need to - any more than we need to protect them from the discomfort of seatbelts, bike helmets, boundaries, brushing their teeth.

Courage isn’t an absence of anxiety. It’s the anxiety that makes something brave. Courage is about handling the discomfort of anxiety.

When we hold them back from anxiety, we hold them back - from growth, from discovery, and from building their bravery muscles.

The distress and discomfort that come with anxiety won’t hurt them. What hurts them is the same thing that hurts all of us - feeling alone in distress. So this is what we will protect them from - not the anxiety, but feeling alone in it.

To do this, speak to the anxiety AND the courage. 

This will also help them feel safer with their anxiety. It puts a story of brave to it rather than a story of deficiency (‘I feel like this because there’s something wrong with me,’) or a story of disaster (‘I feel like this because something bad is about to happen.’).

Normalise, see them, and let them feel you with them. This might sound something like:

‘This feels big doesn’t it. Of course you feel anxious. You’re doing something big/ brave/ important, and that’s how brave feels. It feels scary, stressful, big. It feels like anxiety. It feels like you feel right now. I know you can handle this. We’ll handle it together.’

It doesn’t matter how well they handle it and it doesn’t matter how big the brave thing is. The edges are where the edges are, and anxiety means they are expanding those edges.

We don’t get strong by lifting toothpicks. We get strong by lifting as much as we can, and then a little bit more for a little bit longer. And we do this again and again, until that feels okay. Then we go a little bit further. Brave builds the same way - one brave step after another.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes and it doesn’t matter how big the steps are. If they’ve handled the discomfort of anxiety for a teeny while today, then they’ve been brave today. And tomorrow we’ll go again again.♥️
Feeling seen, safe, and cared for is a biological need. It’s not a choice and it’s not pandering. It’s a biological need.

Children - all of us - will prioritise relational safety over everything. 

When children feel seen, safe, and a sense of belonging they will spend less resources in fight, flight, or withdrawal, and will be free to divert those resources into learning, making thoughtful choices, engaging in ways that can grow them.

They will also be more likely to spend resources seeking out those people (their trusted adults at school) or places (school) that make them feel good about themselves, rather than avoiding the people of spaces that make them feel rubbish or inadequate.

Behaviour support and learning support is about felt safety support first. 

The schools and educators who know this and practice it are making a profound difference, not just for young people but for all of us. They are actively engaging in crime prevention, mental illness prevention, and nurturing strong, beautiful little people into strong, beautiful big ones.♥️
Emotion is e-motion. Energy in motion.

When emotions happen, we have two options: express or depress. That’s it. They’re the options.

When your young person (or you) is being swamped by big feelings, let the feelings come.

Hold the boundary around behaviour - keep them physically safe and let them feel their relationship with you is safe, but you don’t need to fix their feelings.

They aren’t a sign of breakage. They’re a sign your child is catalysing the energy. Our job over the next many years is to help them do this respectfully.

When emotional energy is shut down, it doesn’t disappear. It gets held in the body and will come out sideways in response to seemingly benign things, or it will drive distraction behaviours (such as addiction, numbness).

Sometimes there’ll be a need for them to control that energy so they can do what they need to do - go to school, take the sports field, do the exam - but the more we can make way for expression either in the moment or later, the safer and softer they’ll feel in their minds and bodies.

Expression is the most important part of moving through any feeling. This might look like talking, moving, crying, writing, yelling.

This is why you might see big feelings after school. It’s often a sign that they’ve been controlling themselves all day - through the feelings that come with learning new things, being quiet and still, trying to get along with everyone, not having the power and influence they need (that we all need). When they get into the car at pickup, finally those feelings they’ve been holding on to have a safe place to show up and move through them and out of them.

It can be so messy! It takes time to learn how to lasso feelings and words into something unmessy.

In the meantime, our job is to hold a tender, strong, safe place for that emotional energy to move out of them.

Hold the boundary around behaviour where you can, add warmth where you can, and when they are calm talk about what happened and how they might do things differently next time. And be patient. Just because someone tells us how to swing a racket, doesn’t mean we’ll win Wimbledon tomorrow. Good things take time, and loads of practice.♥️
Thank you Adelaide! Thank you for your stories, your warmth, for laughing with me, spaghetti bodying with me (when you know, you know), for letting me scribble on your books, and most of all, for letting me be a part of your world today.

So proud to share the stage with Steve Biddulph, @matt.runnalls ,
@michellemitchell.author, and @nathandubsywant. To @sharonwittauthor - thank you for creating this beautiful, brave space for families to come together and grow stronger.

And to the parents, carers, grandparents - you are extraordinary and it’s a privilege to share the space with you. 

Parenting is big work. Tender, gritty, beautiful, hard. It asks everything of us - our strength, our softness, our growth. We’re raising beautiful little people into beautiful big people, and at the same time, we’re growing ourselves. 

Sometimes that growth feels impatient and demanding - like we’re being wrenched forward before we’re ready, before our feet have found the ground. 

But that’s the nature of growth isn’t it. It rarely waits for permission. It asks only that we keep moving.

And that’s okay. 

There’s no rush. You have time. We have time.

In the meantime they will keep growing us, these little humans of ours. Quietly, daily, deeply. They will grow us in the most profound ways if we let them. And we must let them - for their sake, for our own, and for the ancestral threads that tie us to the generations that came before us, and those that will come because of us. We will grow for them and because of them.♥️
Their words might be messy, angry, sad. They might sound bigger than the issue, or as though they aren’t about the issue at all. 

The words are the warning lights on the dashboard. They’re the signal that something is wrong, but they won’t always tell us exactly what that ‘something’ is. Responding only to the words is like noticing the light without noticing the problem.

Our job isn’t to respond to their words, but to respond to the feelings and the need behind the words.

First though, we need to understand what the words are signalling. This won’t always be obvious and it certainly won’t always be easy. 

At first the signal might be blurry, or too bright, or too loud, or not obvious.

Unless we really understand the problem behind signal - the why behind words - we might inadvertently respond to what we think the problem is, not what the problem actually is. 

Words can be hard and messy, and when they are fuelled by big feelings that can jet from us with full force. It is this way for all of us. 

Talking helps catalyse the emotion, and (eventually) bring the problem into a clearer view.

But someone needs to listen to the talking. You won’t always be able to do this - you’re human too - but when you can, it will be one of the most powerful ways to love them through their storms.

If the words are disrespectful, try:

‘I want to hear you but I love you too much to let you think it’s okay to speak like that. Do you want to try it a different way?’ 

Expectations, with support. Leadership, with warmth. Then, let them talk.

Our job isn’t to fix them - they aren’t broken. Our job is to understand them so we can help them feel seen, safe, and supported through the big of it all. When we do this, we give them what they need to find their way through.♥️

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