OCD Episode: Just Survive

image_pdfimage_print

This is part of a series of ongoing OCD episodes, which I will post as they happen. This is live, stream of consciousness. It happens. Often. Sometimes the subjects are different.

The weight and pressure is from an unknowable force, it exists as fog. Not the fog that merely impairs your vision, no. This fog permeates everything—your body and brain most specifically here. Everything is wrong again, and no one sees this or wishes to correct this… all. So I just survive. Every second I am within this fog—or, rather and more importantly, this fog is within me—just survive… it. Whatever it is, just move on second by second, trying not to think. This, of course, is impossible—trying not to think. But, hell, I suppose it’s nice to say “try” in these cases, huh?

It’s not.

Just survive. Everyone is not on your side. That is very different than saying “no one is on your side.” This is an observation of ignorance. And maybe ignorance is good here, as it means that quite possibly no one is noticing what my life is at this moment. It is certainly not productive—and that is a bad thing in the minds of others. So just be in this hell alone. Yeah. “Hope no one notices!”

Survive one second of everything being wrong. And then another second. And then another second. And then another second. And then another second. And then another second. And then another second. And then another second. And then another second. And then another second.

Seconds are far too short. I cannot go back to bed, I’ve used that up as well as the lies to others that I was not in bed and actually being productive unnoticed. I need to survive minutes, hours.

I’ve set up every day to produce, this one is lost. To survival. One cannot schedule “survival.” Maybe one can? Well, I didn’t.

Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Survive!

Just survive.

No one is helping me, but I don’t even know where to begin—on what stuff—to ask for help on. That’s all this can be described as in words: things, stuff, words that mean nothing. But for sure no one is helping me, and I’m pretty sure no one can help me. If they could it would require being inside my brain, and I don’t even know if I am inside my brain.

Everything is out of place, and no one knows it. Except me. I know it. I see everything out of place, and I know—I know I know—where this could all end up. Me, devastated. I sense the direction—directions—of every single thing. All out of place, off track. I cannot fix everything when I cannot fix anything.

Let’s face it.

I am thinking of the entire future, and every single eventuality, I have reached the point where—hell, I’ve crossed the point in-between what my brain can handle and infinity. There are, of course, infinite eventualities to what can happen in the future. And I am stuck here with too many on my mind. Stuck. The fog. So, I am now frozen and must just survive. There is no going back on thought for me. Once I think something, it is there as an item in my brain to obsess over. Once I thin of two things, they are both such. And three, four.. continue on past a point where it all becomes fog. But do not forget—I am thinking about everything. It very feels very literally like everything.

Just survive. That is all I am worth now to myself: survival.

Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Control! Survive!

When do I stop just surviving? When does everything become “right enough” again? When does all that is wrong become acceptable enough to be somewhat part of the human condition?

Apparently I do not decide this.

I can only survive. Minutes. Maybe hours—I think hours have gone by. Not enough of them.

Just survive. And repeat.