Maladaptive Daydreaming

On 17th June 2011, my sixteen-year-old self decided to share something with the realms of Tumblr that I had never shared before and have never talked about since. It was something that I truly experienced, something I've always experienced but never understood, something I randomly decided to Google, and after discovering it had a name, wrote the cringiest Tumblr post declaring it to all of my 100+ followers. I talked about it in your very typical 2011 'I'm not normal, I'm qUiIRKYy' sort of way. Which now as I read it back, makes me sound like an absolute fucking bin lid. (I was).

I don't use this blog much any more. But sometimes, writing something down and just keeping it for yourself isn't enough. Sometimes, even if you know no one will see it, putting your words out into the universe is necessary. And I feel like allowing that shocking 2011 tumblr post to float around the universe without a redemption is basically a crime. I started the post with "Hi, I'm Leigh." So before I start, yes my name is still Leigh, hello. In 2011 I wrote the most poorly-explained, cringe-worthy Tumblr post about Maladaptive Daydreaming. But although the post itself was awful, the experiences that lead me to write it were absolutely real, and eight years on, nothing has changed.

For as long as I can remember, my time has been split between this world and another. When in the company of others or occupied with a task, I am present in reality. But as soon as I'm alone, I'm no longer here. I don't drift off, I don't become catatonic or dazed; it's as if I am able to peel back a paper-thin veil on this reality and live in another until someone or something pulls me back. I will repeat something I wrote in the original post: 'If you watched me in a daydream, you would think I had serious issues; I move around and talk out loud, I have conversations with people who aren't there.' This is true. But something I didn't make the distinction between is that these are not hallucinations. I am aware that I am daydreaming, I'm aware that I am living in stories that my mind is creating, and I do not physically see anything. The best way I can explain it is when you're alone and you play out an argument with someone that hasn't happened yet. You argue with them, you imagine them speaking to you and you respond to them aloud as if they were there. This is how I behave while maladaptive daydreaming, however the situations are more intricate, elaborate and they can go on for hours if undisturbed.

Maladaptive Daydreaming is not recognised as a diagnosable disorder in the DSM. Instead, it's often categorised as a symptom or a result of a diagnosed disorder. For me that disorder is Anxiety. I struggled deeply with anxiety and depression in my teens, but even more so in my 20's. When I feel anxious and overwhelmed, I often struggle to connect with reality, finding it much easier to dissociate as a way of coping with the physical and emotional symptoms of anxiety. When I'm in a daydream, I feel calm and distracted. I no longer feel the pain in my stomach and the intrusive thoughts stop. But it's the 'maladaptive' aspect which makes it difficult. It means I can get lost in my head and my priorities can become skewed. I will be late to things because I lost track of time, important tasks won't get done because I spent hours in a daydream, I can become easily stressed and overwhelmed if people and/or life is being particularly hard on me. The more anxious I feel, the further my mind disconnects from reality, the less I actually deal with the root and the cause of my problems.

Even writing this now, it sounds ridiculous. The idea of a 25-year-old woman, mother and fiancee retreating inside her own mind when she gets a bit too overwhelmed is ridiculous. But it's just the way I've always been. I developed Maladaptive Daydreaming as a coping mechanism when I first started experiencing anxiety as a child and it's just… stuck with me. I won't explain what my particular daydreams consist of. They are so deep-rooted and intertwined with my anxiety that keeping them safe, tucked away in my head feels like the safest place for them. Also, I've already made myself sound ridiculous, I'd like to keep hold of the speck of dignity I have left.

There are studies which show that CBT can be effective in treating disorders such as this one, and it's something I'm really interested in pursuing. But that's something I'll delve into in another blog. Maybe. Actually, probably not because I'm shit at consistency in all aspects of my life.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. So I thought if I was going to put this strange, embarrassing, difficult-to-talk-about part of my anxiety disorder into the world, what better time to do it? Even if you stumble across this post and cannot relate at all, I hope it was an interesting read. I can now rest easy knowing I've redeemed this part of myself after the fuckery of that 2011 Tumblr post.