It was only a couple of days ago that I was reading some kind of a medical encyclopedia and was astonished to find out that what I suffered from at the age of 10-12 has a name. Reading through the stories posted here makes me feel both joy and sorrow, having discovered myself and putting a name to the pain that had been such an integral part of my life.Knowing that I am not alone, and that what I felt has a name and symptoms is rather strange after all these years. The thing is that that experience has not recurred since, or at least not in such traumatic forms, but I remember I wished for it to end or for myself to die, it was a terrible thing to go through (and I was 10 or 11!). I could not tell anybody, because I had no idea what can I say or how to describe what I was going through. The only thing I knew was that somehow I was in my own body, and the question of how could I be myself was ruining my life and there was nothing I could do about it. It was like looking at life from the outside and having no part of it, feeling too slow, too out of place. There is nothing I can remember that could have triggered it. Perhaps a general anxiety of growing up? But then the other kids around me could be afraid of dying or growing old, but what I was experiencing was quite a different thing. I have a suspicion that I developed anorexia nervosa (in a comparatively light form, though) and binge eating disorder at the age of 14 as a result of this experience. I grew up in Latvia which was a part of the Soviet Union at that time (I was born in 1978) and it was not an established practice to consult a psychiatrist, so we had to deal with our disorders by whatever means we could:) I prayed to God, hoping that one day it will be over. I am only thankful that DP has not revisited me since my teenage years. Just want you to know I understand and care and will never forget this horror. Please write me if you wish so we can share more.