carlymarie

I've been doing my fair share of research but still haven't come across anything- is HPPD hereditary?

clonazapam helps.

It's just something I can't explain, in the way that it doesn't even make sense to myself. I can't emphasize my hatred for inanimate objects without sounding like a fool or insane. Like the way I hate trees rustling in the breeze, how tires grinding against the pavement sends me to hell. People rubbing their faces puts me in a bad mindset as well. It's not something anyone can understand unless they've experienced it themselves. These are the after effects of a bad trip, the things nobody tells you about. They'll tell you how great psychedelics are, the mind altering freedom persuading you to try it. And sure, it was an incredible experience. For awhile. I find myself with various triggers in the oddest things. I hate it. I'm aware of the intensity behind the word "hate," that's exactly why I use it. It's hard not do be disgusted with the world when you constantly feel out of your own body, floating, like your feet continue on while your head is held back; like the floor is 5 feet closer while you're 50 feet taller. I don't know how to sufficiently express myself. No combination of words could do justice to the hell I've experienced in correlation to my hppd. Previous therapists/psychiatrists of mine call it "panic," and I really can't stand using that term. That's not what this is. It's so much more than a word. Panic. Hppd. Flashbacks. They don't suffice. I fucking hate words. You know when you know your elbow and your funny bone goes limp? That's how it initially feels when an episode strikes, except my whole body goes numb, even my head. I melt. It's the remaining headspace around my brain is just one massive clusterfuck that I can't make any sense of. My temples start pulsing, like something demonic and superior is squeezing the living shit out of my insides, altering all ability to think rationally. I can't even form complete thoughts. Everything just becomes one, faded, irrational mesh of doom. The melting sensations are almost unbearable, especially when I stroke my hair or legs while thinking about my last LSD trip. Everything slows down, almost as if my brain is incapable of processing sense of touch until after I've already touched myself. It freaks me out. Sometimes I even hallucinate, although I don't think that's the word I'd use to correctly describe it. Things just start moving, spiraling into nonsense as if I'm still tripping. It's only happened twice, but each time I was driving and the road adapted into one concrete image. Most people I've explained this to thinks it sounds "cool," that I'm able to "trip balls" without drugging myself. It's not cool and those people are idiots. It takes me back to those devilish thoughts, the muffled/hollow/bass heavy sounds. The clouded headspace. Friends of mine who still persistently trip always tell me to "just go with it and let it run it's course." Easier said than done. I don't think they understand the inconvenience of it all. I'd like to go about my day without feeling like Im going to flop into a noodle at any given moment. I read up on hppd when I first became interested in trying LSD, but it never really occurred to me that it could actually happen to someone, especially not myself. It's not that I wasn't careful of my surroundings of my surroundings or unaware of my current mood, I just didn't understanding the intensity of having a bad trip. I guess I should've paid more attention to my state of mind. I mean, I'm not bashing how the mind works or the places it's taken me. My perspective is entirely altered and I finally feel up to par with my intellectual level. It just sucks. I wish it could be done with. At the same time, though, I don't know if I'd be okay with that. I like being vulnerable, sad. It's sick and twisted but it's all I've ever known. It's comfortable because it's so uncomfortable. I hate it, but I love it. The worst part is that I hardly remember anything from that night. My old therapist told me to record everything that happened, word for word, but I never did. I told her otherwise, promised I was doing all my exercises. I lied. I was too chicken then, for it wasn't just a state of mind, but me in all my essence. It's repulsive how something so destructive can have such a wrath over someone. It was a year ago yesterday since I my first episode, since I first realized that I may have hppd. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, all things considered, especially the date. I thought my dangerous thoughts, the constant body high, the flashbacks, and the intense visuals would have subsided by now. I thought wrong. Nothing's changed, they've just become more bearable. I'm stronger now because of this, but that doesn't make it any easier. The subconscious mind is a powerful thing and if not addressed correctly, things will only get worse. My mind has become a fucking wrecking ball. Better late than never, I've decided to practice what has been preached in hopes that it'll lead me into a healthier state of mind. I used to claim that I wanted to go back to my initial mindset, pre-LSD, but that was just the naivety in me talking, the panic. You can't undo what has already been done and that's something I've had to push myself into coming to terms with, regardless of how fucking common sense the statement is. I've seen 3 therapists in the past year. They all assumed this was panic and none of them would come to terms with the idea that I have hppd. I'm now taking clonozapam. It makes me dizzy and forget things when I take it. It makes me lose my head when I don't. I don't like being dependent on drugs anymore and I've actually managed up to 5 days without the pill, but after breaking into cold sweats and explaining to yourself in the mirror how greatly you want to die, you crack. I'd like to make it known that I'm in a much brighter place now in comparison to last september, along with all the months that have followed. I get better everyday because every morning when I wake up, my eyes are a little deeper. Acid did that to me, and although I may not remember every detail from that night, or the vast majority of it for that matter, I'm a changed person and I am grateful for that. I'm able to accept the world for what it is as opposed to how I'd like to portray it. I don't lie to myself anymore. I don't see the point in it, all self loathing brings is sadness. I've already admitted to liking sadness, but I'm on a personal journey to stop wallowing in it. I have hppd, and it sucks. Anyone who has it understands this and there is no need for explanation. It's just nice to know that someone else is feeling what you're feeling. I'm not alone and neither are you.