Hi, here is a draft of one of my personal statments I was going to use for a medical school application. Could you rewrite it for me and make it emotional but also answer the question why I want to be a doctor “I used to daydream a lot, but now it feels like it’s my life, and I want those daydreams to go away. How can I make that happen?” This was one of many comments on a post about Maladaptive Daydreaming and strategies to minimize its impact on daily life. As a Maladaptive daydreamer myself, I felt compelled to share the tools I use to curb its influence, realizing its potential to spiral out of control.
It always took some time before I responded to comments under my posts about Maladaptive Daydreaming, as most individuals asked the same question: How do I make them stop? It was overwhelming at times and made me fearful that this question would never be answered, not only for the individuals I was trying to help with my content but also for myself.
As I grappled with others’ haunting questions, my own crept in, “I want it to go away too, and yet I feel I have control to stop it, but I don’t want to. How do I navigate that?” A wave of conflicting emotions flooded my being—alone, safe, scared, and fearful. The plea resonated deeply, echoing the struggle with the dichotomy of yearning for escape yet holding onto the perceived comfort of these daydreams.
Initially unsure of how to respond, especially since we were delving into a sensitive topic on an open platform, I became troubled. This prompted me to reach out to Eli Somer, a pioneering researcher and clinician in the field of maladaptive daydreaming, with whom I had conversed before. Drawing on his guidance, he provided valuable advice during my research on maladaptive daydreaming.
Motivated by a desire to provide a space for maladaptive daydreamers to anonymously share their experiences and assist researchers in finding potential participants, I decided to create a blog and platform. Simultaneously, I delved into researching individuals of my age and younger, specifically those with the same skin tone as mine. The absence of visual representations of a black woman with MD spurred my determination to amplify underrepresented narratives in this field. As mental health research doesn’t normally start with Black individuals in the forefront, I learned more. As I interviewed, researched, and listened, I didn’t feel overwhelmed; instead, I was able to learn so much from others’ experiences and backgrounds of how they cope with their MD.
The internal conflict manifested in the plea not to leave, to come back, to stay close, revealing vulnerability in the face of a reality that fades away with every passing moment. The smile disappears as the realization sets in—none of it is real, and it may never materialize. The embarrassment of imagining something grand yet being unable to execute it becomes a weight on the shoulders.
Life goes on, and the self-awareness of the audacity to twirl in the realm of daydreams for hours while the world demands productivity becomes apparent. The internal struggle surfaces again, urging to return to work and fulfill responsibilities. The plea is poignant—there is no room for rest; the relentless cycle persists.
