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.
It is a sensation inside the body of some sort of energy1… no it’s definitively got a physical aspect to it, though it is inside me… something I can feel pushing upwards into my head. A cleanliness, an almost nothing. Nothing because the weight of my disorder is such a heavy something.
So relativity comes into play here… when you are burdened with a constant grip on your stomach—like a fist being made and your mid-section being in the middle of such, and whatever that fist is connected to not caring one bit—you absolutely feel something from nothing when it is removed. And that travels up from my stomach area into my head.
I don’t want to use the word “happy.” I don’t want to use the word “happy.” Ever. That word, it sets one up for failure. So we, so I avoid that word.
But things are right. Maybe normal. I do not know what is normal, but this must be really friggin’ close. I can exist, now. At this moment. I can… do things. Things! I am able to pick things and do them. That is not normal for me, and feels… normal… right now. For now. I will not use any terms that are allusions of the concept of the future.
The mind figuratively opens a door to the outside world. Oh, I’ve existed forever with the outside world around me. But I have never been open to it much, and now for some reason, I am open. Participating? Maybe. Being in and not just surrounded by—that is a better description.
For some reason! If I knew the reasons, I’d have a script to follow. My brain still keeps the script. My brain still keeps the driving directions. My brain still keeps the punch list. My brain still keeps it all—or quite a bit—from me. But that is ok now. I am still the submissive here.
There is medication involved, but not fast-acting medication. There is no such thing as fast-acting medication for me. I’ve been prescribed it, it does nothing. That is odd to everyone including my doctor, but my medical chart is a museum of oddities, so… we move on.
Move on! These things! Once unable to even mention, because of a blind jealousy of no particular person who can carry these things out.
I can most likely do anything at this point. But I will remain tempered. As the fall—and I will not say it is inevitable even though I partially think it is inevitable—will be, could be worse for the thought of anything too high.
I still wish to remain quiet. I don’t want to disturb this. So, thus, I still have my disorder. I am still ruled by anxiety, obsessions, and compulsions. But this time it is to keep the good in a box in the top portion of my head.
This is still an episode. Right? Someone tell me. There is no one who can tell me.
I will just remain here. Ok.
1 Let’s not get to mystical, Zen, or new-age here. [BACK]