pother
New member
--Trapped-- Where Do I Escape? (AvPD+)
Hi,
I hope I’m posting in the appropriate place. Please, forgive me if my first-ever post at SocialPhobiaWorld rambles. I’m posting because I feel trapped; my situation is coming to a head. But, before I ask advice, I want to ensure I’m providing a comprehensive background.
• I’m male.
• 30 years old.
• I’m the oldest of 2 sisters and 1 brother.
• I never got a driver’s license (never had any real desire or need to drive).
• I am agnostic, though gravitate toward Buddhism. (But to me, ‘wisdom’ seems masturbatory).
• I’m a smoker.
• I can’t handle alcohol well (it increasing my paranoia, makes me nauseous, and envelops my mind in a fog)
• I attended a private Catholic preschool, then a public ‘little school’. I attended the first half of a public kindergarten. But the second half—all the way up to graduating high school—I again attended the private Catholic school. My class never surpassed 16 students. By high school, there were 12, including myself (8 boys, 4 girls). This was not the smallest class (though not the largest, either). But, from pre-K to 12, there were always about 300 students. I must emphasize ‘private’ and the lowercase ‘catholic’. Those of other denominations, including teachers, also attended.
• I’ve only worked 2 paying jobs in my life: about 2 months as a Junior in high school at a small grocery store (as bagger), and off-and-on from 2001 ‘til about 2006 at a family member’s business (as forestry technician).
• I’ve been writing a novel since 2006.
• In between, I’ve indulged in video games, anime, music, literature, etc. Thinking, learning, enjoying the abstract, artistic realms. The worlds that, while formulaic, feel more real to me than reality. Although, I’m certainly aware of practicality’s sting.
• I’m currently living with my brother and paternal granny at her house. I had lived with my mom then my dad before being invited here. I have lived alone for a few months throughout my life, but I never needed to leave the house.
According to the opinion of a psychiatrist, I have Avoidant Personality Disorder. I only saw him for an initial visit. He then referred me to a psychologist (which I’d already figured I should’ve seen in the first place).
I saw the psychologist mostly for testing, but we had several preliminary sessions. He deduced I was slower than most, quickly explaining it was because I’ve a lot more info to process. Even questioners I’ve had to complete took longer than “normal” and included my revisions. While the whole idea of seeing him was to get tested, the cost was too much (about $2,000 for 6 hours over the course of 2 days). He asked if I wanted “help”. My reply was that his question was loaded and that my idea of “help” would mean my living in a ghost town.
I went to a therapist years before I saw the other professionals. My lung had collapsed and, after leaving the hospital (which I was on autopilot the whole time), I got really clingy, afraid, and morbid. So, in addition to my other issues, I saw a therapist. But, she told me nothing I didn’t already know (in many ways, they all do). I even had homework, which involved writing a journal and trying to see the world in a simplistic, almost childlike manner. Her opinions were that I was scared sh**less of the outside world, and that I saw things in black and white. However, I do see the gray, although I still consider it ‘amoral’, corrupting, and depressing. Per my request, my mom (who sometimes sat in) ended the sessions (I didn’t have the heart to say ‘bye’ or ‘no’). Later, I stumbled upon ‘cognitive dissonance’. Unsure if that was what the therapist was alluding to.
In second grade, my father hit me. Thus, I went to a psychiatrist then, too. I’m unsure of her diagnosis or the exact nature of our sessions. My dad and I have had a rocky relationship. For as literal and as critical (of religion and authority) as he can be, he’s usually drunk and still practical, still placating the “norm”. He’s told me to get my head out of the clouds, told me I wouldn’t want to be an actor, voice actor, archaeologist, etc. When drunk, he can be quite belligerent, or quite touchy and silly. He even popped firecrackers outside my bedroom to window to wake me up on a weekend.
My mom (who knows me better than anyone) agrees with the AvPD opinion. Recently, I’ve done other research. It seems I fit, perhaps loosely, the criteria of ‘Maladaptive Daydreaming’, ‘Borderline Personality Disorder’, and possibly ‘Hyperthymesia’. I can control my daydreaming, or rather I can superimpose it on just about anything I’m doing. It’s almost like my third-person eye. But I rarely dream about ‘practical’ or ‘possible’ ideas, in the context of dreaming, anyway. I believe I fit the term ‘hopelessly romantic’. Transcending the limitations of the physical world, having the powers of a demigod, actually attaining the deep, even supernatural connections…all play out vividly in my mind and emotions. I grew up steeped in fantasy. While I can differentiate fact from fiction, I absorbed the ideals and “wisdom” found in G1 Transformers, G.I. Joe, Star Trek: TNG, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Vampire Hunter D, Dragon Ball Z, etc. But, it seems even their wisdom can only be glimpsed, aspired to but never achieved, except in art and the mind. Music’s also influenced me, particularly the angsty, cerebral, antisocial kind (TooL, NIN, Alice in Chains, White Zombie, etc.). I’m certainly aware of society’s own, permitted hyperreality (i.e. fast food restaurants, theme parks, etc.).
I’ve always been different and ‘shy’. I’ve been told stories about being held and shying away from strangers. Since my earliest memories—which predate preschool—I cried a great deal not wanting to go to preschool, not wanting to leave my family and house. I even remember my dad singing ‘Row, row, row your boat’, and think what if life really is a dream? Going to preschool got better, but then the same pattern emerged when confronted with kindergarten, both public and then private. In the public one, I was tasked with drawing and coloring a tree, just as the rest of the class was. Seeing out the windows and looking back at everyone working, I decided to color my tree yellow and purple, not wanting to do what everyone else was doing. Because of it, the teachers deemed me ‘retarded’. Were the assignments just busywork? If so, why’d they care how I complete the task? Were the assignments designed to test compliancy? That was probably one of the reasons I left that school. But even in the new one, I’ve taken F’s from teachers due to ‘artistic differences’. I’ve been hit by a coach, emotionally neglected by teachers, etc. In first grad, the teacher secretly gave me a St. Christopher medal to help placate me. The class new she gave me something (I mean we whispered at her desk in front of the class). Once she left, they kept pestering me until I showed them what it was. Sure enough, the teacher walked in, saying she knew I couldn’t be trusted, and reluctantly lets me keep the medal. I also recall the class being given an assignment and seeing all my classmates’ heads just fall forward, their hands busy with the work. Me? I might not have grasped the assignment, but it still seemed strange that everyone else would just engage (or disengage) at the slightest provocation. I guess I just had a particular combination of ignorance and intelligence.
My maternal and paternal families are quite different. My “issues”, particularly cognitive dissonance, might be genetic or learned, but likely attributed to family in some way.
When people try to “help” me, they don’t seem to understand just how much everything is a part of me. Twilight Zone episodes flash in my mind, ‘Number 12 Looks Just Like You’, and ‘The Obsolete Man’ stand out. I’m very fearful of losing my identity. I also feel like I have to mourn for the family and friends who aren’t around, even though they are alive and, in most cases, doing quite well. I certainly don’t want to take “medicine” as it seems worse than the “disease”. I don’t believe in freewill, but I certainly want to keep my identity. And to me, it just feels like medicine is not a real solution but society’s ‘quick fix’ to it’s inadequacies of time and other, more appropriate resources. My mind and body just do. I mean, I don’t need to consciously follow fundamental laws because I’m inherently good. ‘Cognitive therapy’ seems masturbatory. When people try and “help” me, my survival instinct kicks into overdrive. My will and my cognitive dissonance are strong, to a fault. Nobody seems to have the answers to my questions, some of which are age-old. I seems to understand and have an answer for a lot, or I’m in the dark because it might be impossible to know. And my language, as thorough as it can be, is filled with subtly that most seem to miss. I feel more tribal, more mammalian than modernity allows.
I understand I’m not the only one with AvPD. I understand my background isn’t so unique. My brother and one of my sisters have social “problems”, too, just not as strong as I do. Something seems different about me. Of the few testimonials I’ve read re AvPD, Maladaptive Daydreaming, etc., none quite fit me. I couldn’t quite relate. My brother does think I have a touch of autism.
I also feel that written communication is far superior than verbal, at least in my experience.
Anyway, there’s more (believe it or not), but I think that’s enough background, at least for now. If you’ve read the above, I thank you.
BOTTOMELINE:
As stated before, I’m now living with my granny. I keep her company, do favors and yard work for her. But my Uncle (who has no children, has been in prison, and is a graduate of AA), is pushing me around and saying I do ‘nothing’. Even my novel is a “hobby”. It might very well be, but I’ve gotten praise for it (by a retired book editor) and it’s something I can truly contribute to society with (philosophy, psychology, entertainment, etc.). My mind seems well-suited for art and literature, for fantasy with substance and being left alone. I can touch-type as well.
Anyway, my uncle is hounding me to either stay at my granny’s and see a professional (which would make no. 5), or find another place to live. I really have no other place to go, not until my dad’s finances can stabilize. My parents, siblings, and granny are accused of being ‘enablers’. Yet, my uncle is the most uninspired and emotionally crippled person I know. Seems he’s only provided me ‘one’ choice.
So what should I do? I have contemplated living under a bridge. If push comes to shove, sink or swim, I might have to. I’ve discussed these matters with my parents (my council), but they seem to be sticking to the original plan. My uncle is still a thorn, in all our sides, and talking to him is quite useless.
Your insight would be appreciated. Thank you for your time and tolerance.
Hi,
I hope I’m posting in the appropriate place. Please, forgive me if my first-ever post at SocialPhobiaWorld rambles. I’m posting because I feel trapped; my situation is coming to a head. But, before I ask advice, I want to ensure I’m providing a comprehensive background.
• I’m male.
• 30 years old.
• I’m the oldest of 2 sisters and 1 brother.
• I never got a driver’s license (never had any real desire or need to drive).
• I am agnostic, though gravitate toward Buddhism. (But to me, ‘wisdom’ seems masturbatory).
• I’m a smoker.
• I can’t handle alcohol well (it increasing my paranoia, makes me nauseous, and envelops my mind in a fog)
• I attended a private Catholic preschool, then a public ‘little school’. I attended the first half of a public kindergarten. But the second half—all the way up to graduating high school—I again attended the private Catholic school. My class never surpassed 16 students. By high school, there were 12, including myself (8 boys, 4 girls). This was not the smallest class (though not the largest, either). But, from pre-K to 12, there were always about 300 students. I must emphasize ‘private’ and the lowercase ‘catholic’. Those of other denominations, including teachers, also attended.
• I’ve only worked 2 paying jobs in my life: about 2 months as a Junior in high school at a small grocery store (as bagger), and off-and-on from 2001 ‘til about 2006 at a family member’s business (as forestry technician).
• I’ve been writing a novel since 2006.
• In between, I’ve indulged in video games, anime, music, literature, etc. Thinking, learning, enjoying the abstract, artistic realms. The worlds that, while formulaic, feel more real to me than reality. Although, I’m certainly aware of practicality’s sting.
• I’m currently living with my brother and paternal granny at her house. I had lived with my mom then my dad before being invited here. I have lived alone for a few months throughout my life, but I never needed to leave the house.
According to the opinion of a psychiatrist, I have Avoidant Personality Disorder. I only saw him for an initial visit. He then referred me to a psychologist (which I’d already figured I should’ve seen in the first place).
I saw the psychologist mostly for testing, but we had several preliminary sessions. He deduced I was slower than most, quickly explaining it was because I’ve a lot more info to process. Even questioners I’ve had to complete took longer than “normal” and included my revisions. While the whole idea of seeing him was to get tested, the cost was too much (about $2,000 for 6 hours over the course of 2 days). He asked if I wanted “help”. My reply was that his question was loaded and that my idea of “help” would mean my living in a ghost town.
I went to a therapist years before I saw the other professionals. My lung had collapsed and, after leaving the hospital (which I was on autopilot the whole time), I got really clingy, afraid, and morbid. So, in addition to my other issues, I saw a therapist. But, she told me nothing I didn’t already know (in many ways, they all do). I even had homework, which involved writing a journal and trying to see the world in a simplistic, almost childlike manner. Her opinions were that I was scared sh**less of the outside world, and that I saw things in black and white. However, I do see the gray, although I still consider it ‘amoral’, corrupting, and depressing. Per my request, my mom (who sometimes sat in) ended the sessions (I didn’t have the heart to say ‘bye’ or ‘no’). Later, I stumbled upon ‘cognitive dissonance’. Unsure if that was what the therapist was alluding to.
In second grade, my father hit me. Thus, I went to a psychiatrist then, too. I’m unsure of her diagnosis or the exact nature of our sessions. My dad and I have had a rocky relationship. For as literal and as critical (of religion and authority) as he can be, he’s usually drunk and still practical, still placating the “norm”. He’s told me to get my head out of the clouds, told me I wouldn’t want to be an actor, voice actor, archaeologist, etc. When drunk, he can be quite belligerent, or quite touchy and silly. He even popped firecrackers outside my bedroom to window to wake me up on a weekend.
My mom (who knows me better than anyone) agrees with the AvPD opinion. Recently, I’ve done other research. It seems I fit, perhaps loosely, the criteria of ‘Maladaptive Daydreaming’, ‘Borderline Personality Disorder’, and possibly ‘Hyperthymesia’. I can control my daydreaming, or rather I can superimpose it on just about anything I’m doing. It’s almost like my third-person eye. But I rarely dream about ‘practical’ or ‘possible’ ideas, in the context of dreaming, anyway. I believe I fit the term ‘hopelessly romantic’. Transcending the limitations of the physical world, having the powers of a demigod, actually attaining the deep, even supernatural connections…all play out vividly in my mind and emotions. I grew up steeped in fantasy. While I can differentiate fact from fiction, I absorbed the ideals and “wisdom” found in G1 Transformers, G.I. Joe, Star Trek: TNG, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Vampire Hunter D, Dragon Ball Z, etc. But, it seems even their wisdom can only be glimpsed, aspired to but never achieved, except in art and the mind. Music’s also influenced me, particularly the angsty, cerebral, antisocial kind (TooL, NIN, Alice in Chains, White Zombie, etc.). I’m certainly aware of society’s own, permitted hyperreality (i.e. fast food restaurants, theme parks, etc.).
I’ve always been different and ‘shy’. I’ve been told stories about being held and shying away from strangers. Since my earliest memories—which predate preschool—I cried a great deal not wanting to go to preschool, not wanting to leave my family and house. I even remember my dad singing ‘Row, row, row your boat’, and think what if life really is a dream? Going to preschool got better, but then the same pattern emerged when confronted with kindergarten, both public and then private. In the public one, I was tasked with drawing and coloring a tree, just as the rest of the class was. Seeing out the windows and looking back at everyone working, I decided to color my tree yellow and purple, not wanting to do what everyone else was doing. Because of it, the teachers deemed me ‘retarded’. Were the assignments just busywork? If so, why’d they care how I complete the task? Were the assignments designed to test compliancy? That was probably one of the reasons I left that school. But even in the new one, I’ve taken F’s from teachers due to ‘artistic differences’. I’ve been hit by a coach, emotionally neglected by teachers, etc. In first grad, the teacher secretly gave me a St. Christopher medal to help placate me. The class new she gave me something (I mean we whispered at her desk in front of the class). Once she left, they kept pestering me until I showed them what it was. Sure enough, the teacher walked in, saying she knew I couldn’t be trusted, and reluctantly lets me keep the medal. I also recall the class being given an assignment and seeing all my classmates’ heads just fall forward, their hands busy with the work. Me? I might not have grasped the assignment, but it still seemed strange that everyone else would just engage (or disengage) at the slightest provocation. I guess I just had a particular combination of ignorance and intelligence.
My maternal and paternal families are quite different. My “issues”, particularly cognitive dissonance, might be genetic or learned, but likely attributed to family in some way.
When people try to “help” me, they don’t seem to understand just how much everything is a part of me. Twilight Zone episodes flash in my mind, ‘Number 12 Looks Just Like You’, and ‘The Obsolete Man’ stand out. I’m very fearful of losing my identity. I also feel like I have to mourn for the family and friends who aren’t around, even though they are alive and, in most cases, doing quite well. I certainly don’t want to take “medicine” as it seems worse than the “disease”. I don’t believe in freewill, but I certainly want to keep my identity. And to me, it just feels like medicine is not a real solution but society’s ‘quick fix’ to it’s inadequacies of time and other, more appropriate resources. My mind and body just do. I mean, I don’t need to consciously follow fundamental laws because I’m inherently good. ‘Cognitive therapy’ seems masturbatory. When people try and “help” me, my survival instinct kicks into overdrive. My will and my cognitive dissonance are strong, to a fault. Nobody seems to have the answers to my questions, some of which are age-old. I seems to understand and have an answer for a lot, or I’m in the dark because it might be impossible to know. And my language, as thorough as it can be, is filled with subtly that most seem to miss. I feel more tribal, more mammalian than modernity allows.
I understand I’m not the only one with AvPD. I understand my background isn’t so unique. My brother and one of my sisters have social “problems”, too, just not as strong as I do. Something seems different about me. Of the few testimonials I’ve read re AvPD, Maladaptive Daydreaming, etc., none quite fit me. I couldn’t quite relate. My brother does think I have a touch of autism.
I also feel that written communication is far superior than verbal, at least in my experience.
Anyway, there’s more (believe it or not), but I think that’s enough background, at least for now. If you’ve read the above, I thank you.
BOTTOMELINE:
As stated before, I’m now living with my granny. I keep her company, do favors and yard work for her. But my Uncle (who has no children, has been in prison, and is a graduate of AA), is pushing me around and saying I do ‘nothing’. Even my novel is a “hobby”. It might very well be, but I’ve gotten praise for it (by a retired book editor) and it’s something I can truly contribute to society with (philosophy, psychology, entertainment, etc.). My mind seems well-suited for art and literature, for fantasy with substance and being left alone. I can touch-type as well.
Anyway, my uncle is hounding me to either stay at my granny’s and see a professional (which would make no. 5), or find another place to live. I really have no other place to go, not until my dad’s finances can stabilize. My parents, siblings, and granny are accused of being ‘enablers’. Yet, my uncle is the most uninspired and emotionally crippled person I know. Seems he’s only provided me ‘one’ choice.
So what should I do? I have contemplated living under a bridge. If push comes to shove, sink or swim, I might have to. I’ve discussed these matters with my parents (my council), but they seem to be sticking to the original plan. My uncle is still a thorn, in all our sides, and talking to him is quite useless.
Your insight would be appreciated. Thank you for your time and tolerance.
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