OCD in a nutshell.

“The truth you believe and cling to makes you unavailable to hear anything new.” -Pema Chondron

Dream-cheating

Had one of those dreams again last night. In which I wake up, panicked. Because I dream-cheated on him. It’s a recurring theme of my dreams, though the dreams themselves vary. But the themes are always the same. I dream-cheat. I date someone else on the side, I have an affair, I question if I want to be with him.

And then I wake up and I hate myself for it.

And while I can remind myself that it’s very likely OCD manifesting its spins in my dreams, there’s that little part of me that wonders…are those dreams me? Am I a cheater? Will I cheat? Do I love him?

Noticing

My fear that something bad is going to happen to my loved ones is creeping back up, slowly but surely. It’s not debilitating, yet. But something to keep an eye on. When one of those individuals doesn’t answer a phone call, doesn’t call right away to say that they’ve gotten home safely, is out without me, is driving or flying or even walking, I’m worrying again. I’m feeling helpless again that there is so much that could happen in all of those situations that I can’t control, and I know nothing I can do can control it. I feel certain that if something were to happen to one of them (and even saying that, thinking it — I worry that I just caused something to happen. Magical thinking at its finest.) I wouldn’t survive it. I just wouldn’t. But I don’t want to think about it, because what if by thinking it it happens? Which I know can’t happen, but what if it can?

And I am feeling everyone’s emotions again. No, not even feeling their emotions. Feeling their imagined emotions. What if my mom is feeling lonely? What if my dad is stressed? What if my boyfriend is exhausted? What if my brother is scared? I feel it all, even when they tell me that they are okay. I still feel it. Until I become so inundated with every emotion under the sun, on behalf of every person I know, that I can’t breathe. And yet, I can’t let go of it. What if by not paying attention to a potential emotion, I’m being selfish? What if they really need me to acknowledge it and realize it and it’s a test? What if I could be doing something to help and instead I don’t? What if they don’t tell me how they feel because they want to protect me? Are they right in doing that in the first place?

It’s not debilitating. Yet.

Biggest fear coming true

Pretty sure that at the core of it all, I am truly just a horrible person.

OCD targets what’s most important to you.

I’m terrified. I’m always terrified.

So scared he’s going to leave me. Some days I ask him over and over again, “Are you SURE you love me?” or “Are you SURE you’re not mad at me?” or I apologize over and over again for doing something that may or may or may not have bothered him. I know it’s annoying when I do it. I also know that sometimes I do it anyway.

The other night he said he’d call me when he got home, which should’ve been half an hour. After an hour I had terrifying images in my head of what might have happened to him. Envisioning my life without him. Envisioning hurting myself and not wanting to live without him. Hating myself for that. Worrying that simply by thinking the thought I’d make it happen. Feeling so stuck. He was fine, of course he was fine. He was talking to a friend. No big deal. But it was to m

I figured out one of the big things that’s been contributing to my spinning lately. I haven’t voiced it, written it, or really thought about it. I’m too embarrassed and ashamed to. I don’t really know what to do with it.

I’m so frustrated with exercise. I need to write a full post about it, just about exercise, but I haven’t had time. I hate that I haven’t had time. I hate that I’m writing this blog post instead of studying. I also am freaking out lately that I’m being an awful friend, awful daughter, sister, granddaughter, cousin. I don’t talk to people enough, I don’t call back soon enough, I don’t email frequently enough, I don’t provide enough support. And I try to tell myself that I’m busy, I’m insanely busy, my life is crazy and this is just the reality right now. But that’s not good enough. If I REALLY cared, if I was REALLY a good friend I’d try harder, I’d make more time.

Yom Kippur

Yom Kippur is a really tough holiday in general for most Jews–we are asked to think about all of the ways we’ve wronged people during the past year, ask for their forgiveness, and choose to be better towards them in the coming year. For most people, that’s tough and emotional.

For someone with OCD? Especially someone with OCD who is currently very much “in it?” It’s torture.

I mean, think about what I just said. Think about all the ways we’ve wronged people. Well, that’s all I can think about now. Every person that I’ve done anything wrong to. Who did I forget to call? Who did I offend? Who might hate me? To whom was I an awful friend? Girlfriend? Daughter? Let’s think of every single thing I’ve ever done wrong and examine it in its entirity. Ask for their forgiveness. Well, I’m an expert at apologizing and saying “Are you mad?” and “I’m sorry” and “I won’t do it again.” And really, I’m tempted to just loop that over and over again with every person I care about, just to be sure that they don’t hate me. Choose to be better towards them in the coming year. Excellent. I am setting expectations for myself, incredibly high ones, like: “don’t upset anyone.” Or,”don’t ever say the wrong thing.” And how can I CHECK to make sure I’m doing all these things right? How can I be SURE? How can I be the best, how can I be perfect, how can I be pure?

Now.

Check. Check. Locked? Off?

Wash. Wash. Touch. Wash again. Pure?

Pick. Smell. Compulsion.

Worry. The end? Too much?

Shudder. Images. Fears.

Spin. What if? What does it mean?

Think. Too much.

Feel everything. Emotions. Consuming.

Obsess. Body. Clothes. Size. Guilt. Berating.

This shouldn’t be happening.

Compassion? Anger? Acceptance?

Acceptance. Giving in or living in the moment?

Doomed? A pattern? Same old.

Every six months, forever?

Hopeless? My fault? Needy, selfish, manipulative?

Falling and failing

I just feel like such a failure. At being a person. A girlfriend, daughter, friend, student. I hate that every day when people check in with me, the answer is “I still feel the same.” That makes me feel like a failure. Even if it’s not my fault that the meds aren’t working, or that other meds are causing these symptoms. Even if I’m doing nothing wrong, it feels like I’m doing nothing right. I can’t  give them the answer they want. How long until they get sick of it and just walk away? How long until people finally decide I’m not worth having around if I can’t keep my mood stable?

It’s been about four weeks of increased symptoms, three bad weeks. Three weeks is a long time to be feeling this awful. And I’m not saying that to get sympathy–not in a selfish way. I’m saying it to try and validate for myself that yes, this has been a long haul. But it’s getting harder and harder to push through. I’m always on the verge of tears. I wake up every morning dreading the day, because what evidence do I have to the contrary that the day will be any better than days have been lately? I’m always tired and I just want to sleep my days away. I can’t face people, responsibilities, chores. I can’t do it. And that makes me feel like a failure.

It’s starting to affect my thoughts toward my body and food. I’ve had the thoughts for a little while now, but now it’s harder not to act on them. And I get it. I can understand that, I feel like my body and brain are filled with so much STUFF–so many thoughts, fears, emotions, etc., none of which are pleasant or good ones…so filling my body more with food just feels like putting more bad stuff in it. I don’t have any ROOM for anything else in my body. So, I don’t want to eat. I can cognitively understand that. I can also understand how it’s so easy for a person’s brain to turn to their body as a way of focusing. Nothing I’m doing is helping my mood–no matter what I try, nothing changes. So, I can understand why my brain would decide that if I focused on losing the fat off of my thights, that wouod make me feel better. The scary thing is that it’s harder to resist the thoughts and stop them from turning into behaviors.

And that, above everything, makes me feel like a failure.

Under the mess

Much of the last few weeks, my brain has been hurtling between thoughts.  “I have cancer.”  “I’m a terrible mother.”  “What if I cheat on my husband?”  “What if I’m crazy?”  “I don’t really have OCD.” 

When I have a moment’s rest, I feel my exhaustion.  Every brain cell, every misfiring neuron wants to collapse in defeat.  I am trying my best to find moments of peace.  I attempt to shelve the whatifs and the whoamIs  to just simply be with my breath.  When I can reach that eye of the storm, it can feel so calming.  It may not last long, but it is reassuring that it is there.  

So, my question is, am I supposed to learn something from this long lasting episode with OCD?  Is it indicative of something deeper, thematic going on with me?  Or is that more OCD talking, trying to find meaning where none lies?  Is  this a life lesson or simply a chemical imbalance?  Or both? 

Do you ever wonder if your OCD is simply masking something you don’t want to look at?

Numb

I really do feel crazy. Maybe I am crazy. Who knows.

There’s so much bad inside of me, it feels like. I feel like nobody knows the true me. What if I’m a sociopath? What if I’m schizohrenic? What if this isn’t OCD but it’s a personality disorder? What if I’m really this awful person? What if the thoughts, the fears, what if they’re all real? What if I am all of the horrible things I fear I am?

I don’t deserve friends, I don’t deserve to be cared about, I don’t deserve love. Not if I’m that awful person.

I’m hurting so so bad. Maybe I deserve it. My brain is so fucked up and I don’t know what to believe anymore.