Blank and yet too full.
OCD gets going wildly at the whole 2012 thing, the Mayans thing, the world-is-ending thing. So, I don’t think about it. Except last night, someone brought it up–in a very harmless context, but that got the wheels turning in the back of my brain. And tonight, my brother turned on 2012, the movie, and OCD lit up like a fire. That frustrates me to no end–how sometimes things aren’t even remotely anxiety-provoking, and others times I’m set off immediately. So tonight–I explained that I would get totally worked up over it and I hate the concept and my brother started to explain to me why the end of the earth isn’t going to happen and why it’s not true. And he meant well, he always means so well. Usually it would help. But tonight it just didn’t work and OCD was speeding miles ahead: Can you PROVE that it’s not true? What if the world DOES end? What exists if there’s nothing? When does the universe end? What will happen if there’s no earth? There will just be….nothing. No space and no time. What does that even MEAN? And I couldn’t slow it down so I got up and went into the other room, because my therapist always told me that walking away from an OCD-inducing situation, book, movie, etc., is not avoidance in a negative way, it’s self-care.
But now I’m just mad, and I shouldn’t be (and I shouldn’t be using SHOULD commands) and it’s that whole damn double barometer issue–where you’re at a certain level of an emotion on one barometer. But then you judge yourself for feeling that way, so then you have a second barometer that’s even higher. Except in my case I end up with a lot of barometers, which essentially ends up with me feeling miserable.
I think part of me is feeling shame, that I’m not “over” these anxieties yet. Which I do recognize is a red flag–because it’s not compassionate, because I know I’ve come a long way–light years, in fact, because OCD can be managed but not eliminated, because I’m human and allowed to struggle. But….the shame and embarrassment is there. And then, a thought, which yes I do recognize as OCD, but it’s still there: What are the people who read this blog going to think–they will think you’re some pathetic, miserable, unsuccessful woman who can’t do anything with her life because of all of her baggage. Which leads me to bargain with OCD about why, in fact, I do NOT need to write an entire post persuading the one or two people who might read this that these posts are just one tiny part of me and my life. Seriously?
And I am so afraid of being forgotten, being left behind, being replaced. Which isn’t related to anything I just wrote but it’s there.
And then, the fear that has been nagging at me for days, and I know exactly why, and what it stems from, but that doesn’t change the fact that it won’t leave me alone….
How will ANYONE ever fall in love with me, and stay in love with me, and want to be with me, once they realize how much baggage I come with?