I can't remember the last time my mind felt quiet. It seems that since the beginning of my life (that I consciously remember), I have always felt like there is a constant barrage of words and pictures always playing in my head. It's like being on a highway where billboards line the side of it. Flashes of bits and pieces that are sometimes poignant and sometimes just noise.
Sometimes the only way to make it quieter is to cry. It's almost as if the act of crying shuts down enough of the noise that I can come to a place of ease... for a while.
No, I'm not psychotic. I am just mentally engaged with so many things on so many levels. Rarely do things escape my hearing, my sight, my attention on some level.
There's always the waxing and waning of this process. During times of stress, there is a cacophony of noise, and I would give anything to drown it out. In times where life is going smoothly, it seems more orchestrated. Yet no where between the waxing and the waning is it ever just...quiet.
I see people "zone out" and wonder at the sheer ability to do that. I wish I could do that.
I have obsessive compulsive disorder.
Not the kind that society portrays as funny. I'm not going to go off the deep end if the bag of skittles has more reds than greens. I'm not going to break down into a fit of tears if someone is wearing socks that don't match. I'm certainly not going to lose my grip if the tea towels aren't perfectly aligned.
Although there is an element of cleaning and order to what I experience (people that know me would probably argue that it's more than just an element)... it's more of an intrusive voice that tells me that if I don't do a certain thing, change a certain thing, follow a certain pattern.. that I will obsess over it until it's right. And I do. That obsessing turns into a compulsion to "fix" it. To make it right.
Logically, there is no right number of times to kiss someone goodbye. I know this. OCD tells me that if it isn't an odd number of kisses, something bad will happen to the person I love after they leave. So I count kisses and ask for one more if it's an even number.
Logically, I know that if I skip the vacuuming, dusting, dishes, and all the other cleaning for one night...it will be OK. The house will still stand and no one will think I'm a horrible person. OCD tells me that if I don't, I am a failure. So I clean, sometimes when I'm too tired or sore or sick....because I can't shut that negative thought off till I do.
Logically, I know that it's healthy and sufficient to brush and floss twice a day. OCD tells me that my teeth are going to fall out, my breath stinks, my teeth are yellowing. So I do it so much some days, that it hurts.
Having worked in the mental health field, I know damn well why all of this exists. Short of spilling the sordid details of a sick and twisted childhood, to the masses.. all I can say is that the knowing why doesn't make it go away. It just means I understand why it exists.
The more I challenge my thoughts and compulsions, the more anxious I become. It is a natural result of telling my brain, "no, I won't give in." And I try to do this often, but it's so tiring. To constantly be at war with oneself is exhausting and there are times I wish I had the power to go back in time and make the child me experience a normal life. One that wasn't full of trauma.
But I can't.
The reality is, this is me. OCD is as much a part of me as my heartbeat is.
I find myself feeling guilty for people that love me and whom I am the closest to. There are only a few. They see me, stripped of pride, and begging for safety when I feel lost. They see my tears of utter frustration at myself and my thinking. They see me try, try, try, and fail again...only to get up and try some more.
Because here's the truth: I won't ever give up. Even when I feel like it's too much. It's not in me to give up. I know that the moments of happiness in life, far outnumber the moments of pain. I know that even though I may seem crazy to others, there are those that I inspire..and for them..I have to keep going. I know that there are countless others who struggle like I do, and I keep going for them. It's a passive way of saying, "you got this..we can do this."
And I can do this. One step at a time.
For the rest of my life.
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