Thursday 31st July 2025
We know there’s no direct cure for DPDR. No magic pill to make the symptoms disappear forever. But there are ways to make living with it a little more bearable. Here are some of the tools and techniques I’ve picked up along the way that have helped me personally.
Mindset
If you’ve read my previous blogs, you’ll know that after I received my official diagnosis back in 2023, I spent months obsessing over how to “fix” it. I analyzed every part of my DPDR; when it started, what triggers it and makes it worse, and spent hours researching possible solutions.
Eventually, I realised that the more attention I gave to my symptoms, the worse they got. Ironically, in trying to control it, I was feeding it. What I needed instead was acceptance. I had to come to terms with the possibility that I might never live a life completely free from feeling “spaced out.” But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to live. I still have dreams and ambitions, things that are far too important to let DPDR overshadow.
Self-Reassurance
You’re the one person you spend every moment of your life with, so it helps to become someone you can rely on. When things start to feel foggy and unreal, I gently talk to myself. Phrases like:
- “You are real and alive in this moment.”
- “Everything around you is really here.”
- “This is not a dream.”
- And the most powerful one: “I am safe.”
DPDR is the brain’s way of protecting us, keeping the body safe by detaching from overwhelming experiences. But often, it lingers long after the danger has passed. That’s why reminding yourself that you’re safe now, and it’s okay to be present, can be so grounding.
Grounding Exercises
At one point, I was stuck in a loop of constantly thinking about how spaced out I felt. It was hard to focus on anything else. To break that pattern, I started noticing every time I became symptom-focused and then gently redirected my attention to grounding myself in the present moment.
The more I did this, the less I needed it.
Here are some grounding techniques I’ve tried (some worked better for me than others, but everyone’s different):
- Body Scan: When depersonalisation is intense, I can feel completely disconnected from my body, like I’m floating outside of it. A body scan helps me come back to myself. I start with my feet, wiggling my toes, then slowly move up – calves, thighs, bum, stomach, chest, arms, hands, and face – squeezing and releasing each muscle as I go.
- The 5-4-3-2-1 Method:
Take a deep breath and try naming:
5 things you can see
4 things you can feel
3 things you can hear
2 things you can smell
1 thing you can taste
- Breathing: When my mind starts to spiral or everything feels too detached, I turn to my breath. Slow, intentional breathing can signal to the body that we’re safe. One technique I love is box breathing: inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 4, exhale for 4, hold for 4 and repeat. You can also try longer exhales (e.g., in for 4, out for 6), which helps activate the parasympathetic nervous system and calm the body down. Even just placing a hand on your chest or stomach while you breathe can bring a sense of connection and presence.
Talking Out Loud
Sometimes, simply using my voice helps reconnect me to the world around me. Whether I’m narrating what I’m doing (“I’m making a sandwich now”) or describing how I’m feeling out loud, it helps me feel more grounded and present.
Speaking out loud brings a sense of reality to the moment. It creates an auditory feedback loop; your brain hears your voice and recognises, yes, I’m here, I exist, I’m functioning. This can be especially helpful when you feel disconnected from yourself or like you’re watching life from behind a glass wall. You can also read something out loud, anything from a book to your to-do list. Hearing your own voice can help pull you out of your head and back into the room.
It might feel silly at first, but I’ve found that the more I do it, the more natural and comforting it becomes.
These tools may not “cure” DPDR, but they’ve helped me feel more in control, more connected, and more alive in the moment. If you’re navigating this too, I hope something here resonates with you. You’re not alone, and you are healing – even if it’s slow – it’s possible.
Love, Kate xx
Mostly Kate 