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How Do You Know You Are Real?

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Lucycat

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I was just watching a film called Inkblot where characters from books come to life. It reminded me of my childhood, when I spent a lot of time wondering if I am a real person, or just a figment of someone else's imagination.

With difficulty I just told Rory about it, and he said 'yeh, but you know you are real now, right?' I surprised him by saying no. I am still not sure and don't know how it can ever be proven.
 
Have you read Sophie's World?
I just Googled that and it looks fascinating. I am going to see if it is available as an audiobook - I have several credits to use on the subscription I have.

Edited to add: No, that book is not available. There is another by the same author 'Hello, is there anybody out there?' but that is a Children's book. Is Sophie's World also aimed at children?
 
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Hello is anybody out there is for young children. Sophie's World is for adults or older children/teens I'd say, I'm not sure who it was actually written for. I've read it a couple of times, once with my son when he was about 12 I think. I don't generally discount children's book as worth reading though, a lot of them are.
Shame it's not on audio, I would quite like to read it again but my brain really struggles with focusing on reading now and it's quite a complex story.
 
I've just downloaded the kindle version of Sophie's World! Thank you for the recommendation. :)

Can Rory explain how he knows that he is? I don't know.
I just asked him - but I am not convinced by his answer. He has 'decided' to know that he is real. He says he can tell by his thoughts, feelings and emotions. He makes his own choices and makes his own mistakes. He owns his decisions. I still say that can all be written into the character in a book:banghead:
 
Hmm...I could do "yes but..." to those answers all day! ;)

Maybe questioning it stems from needing escapism. Needing or wanting alternate realities. If your reality is safe then considering the possibility it might not be real has got to be more scary than if your reality has been unsafe.

I don't know that I'm real. I don't know that my world is real. But part of me would like it not to be.

Then I also have times where things don't feel properly real to me anyway (in a dissociative way) so maybe the ability to believe it might not be comes partly from that too.
 
I talked this through with T on Monday, after spending the rest of the weekend ruminating about whether or not I exist.

He said it is depersonalisation. He said that as a child it would have been a good coping mechanism. It was preferable to believe that I am 'only' a fictional character rather than believe I was a child being abused by my own father. I replied that it means the author of the book that I am in must be evil to make these things happen to me.

Unfortunately T left me feeling that he has explained it but now told me how to stop it. He said looking in the mirror would prove I am real. I replied that anybody could have written ' ...and Lucy looked at her reflection in a mirror'. It does not feel like proof.

This morning it got worse - I woke up 'hearing' the click of a keyboard. I was like I could not think anything without the words being spelled out first. I was waiting for the words to be written before I could say or do anything. I know it is damn stupid but it was horrible. Suddenly I scratched my face - without it being written and I had moved froward.

I have driven a long way for a meeting today. I drove there in a bit of a fog. I had to keep reminding myself that I can drive - that I have an 'Apparantly Normal' part who is perfectly capable. I saw a stag beside the road and in the third person my thought was 'Lucy can see a stag' . I decided I need to contact T again as this does not seem to be going away.

However I am now finished for the day and feel fine. It was like after the meeting a switch was flicked and it has all resolved. So I am guessing this is simply a new manifestation of stress for me.

Weird!
 
This feeling of being real is what I'm struggling with right now. Therapy has helped me very recently understand that I am real but I'm hit with waves of enormous grief when I realise that life for the last 30 years has been an out of body experience. I know it's my kids, my marriage, my job - but it felt like it was not really mine either. Im overwhelmed with grief as I feel like someone else was living my life and I was robbed of the last 30 years!!! I thought the abuse stoked my innocence and childhood but instead it stole my whole life!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
My T just phoned me to discuss the email I sent on Wednesday - basically detailing my last post on here. Because he had not responded sooner I thought (felt) like he had dismissed it. However the usual simple explanation is that he has been busy and working mostly in an area without a signal.

He again agreed that I was suffering depersonalisation, and thinks it is very much linked to my studies in psychology. I was recently 'put on the spot' in a tutorial and asked to discuss my identity with strangers. Because I have such conflict within my identity this made me feel very exposed and vulnerable. I had to lie anyway and give a text book description of who I am because I did not feel it appropriate to mention my inner child and all that stuff. T thinks this is the basis of my stress and all the other little things just added to it and tipped me over. Now I am better he says it is my choice as to whether we delve any further in therapy.

Therapy has helped me very recently understand that I am real but I'm hit with waves of enormous grief when I realise that life for the last 30 years has been an out of body experience.
T mentioned to me today that there are 2 me's. As in the 'old me' - before therapy - and the 'new me' - post or in therapy. That is an identity conflict that I cannot share with strangers.

What is so difficult with all this is the logical knowledge that of course I am real, but the awful feeling at the same time that I simply dont always feel real.
 
Another aspect of this 'not being real', according to T was my childhood interest in reading. I remember telling him long ago that I immersed myself in books. He said that as a child I was 'hiding' in the books - a way of curling up alone and giving out the 'leave me alone' signals. As an adult I have now done that metaphorically through depersonalisation.
 
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