An Uninvited Guest

Hello All! Thank you so much for reading about my journey. I must say, I DO have a couple of projects up my sleeve that I will be sharing with you in the next couple of weeks (a buffet, two chairs, and a wall piece), but before I finish those, I will explain my absence. We actually have been very busy the past month with visits to and from family as well as a Vegas vacation, but I’ve also been dealing with my OCD which isn’t always easy.

I’ve decided to think of my OCD as an uninvited guest that comes to my door every day. There are days when I shut the door to it and say “I won’t let you ruin my day” but there are also times where it overwhelms me. My therapist told me that I am afraid to let go of the thoughts because if I do, in my mind, I’m not a good mother. In other words, if my mind isn’t constantly finding and avoiding danger through “what if” thoughts, I don’t think I’m doing my job. The part about this that sucks is that the “what if” thoughts cause me immense anxiety and saddness.

In outpatient, they always talked about the “arc of recovery” not being a straight line up, but rather a lot of “bad days” at the beginning, then slowly more good days than bad. I have my fair share of good days, or good parts of days, but I still find myself being sucked back into the OCD way of thinking. It is almost like when this all started 9 months ago I was so traumatized and mortified of the things I was thinking that a switch clicked in my mind which caused me to take my worrying and thoughts up to a new (higher) level that I could have never imagined before. Sometimes I feel as if a part of me will forever be wounded from this experience.

I can recall each scary thought I’ve had (and where I had it) over the past nine months (almost impressive, right?) Each day I know the difference between a recurring thought and a new one (the new ones give me more anxiety). Sometimes my thoughts make me cry, other times I get mad or annoyed at them. It is truly so difficult to explain what is going on in my head, but I’m trying. I’m trying because (I’ve been told) I’m not the only one. I’m trying because I’ve lost any sense of shame I had months ago. I’m trying because this is me and I’m trying to put my brain back together.

So here I am, doing okay. I have an annoying habit of trying to speed through my recovery because “I shouldn’t be like this anymore.” I truly feel that since I know how it originated and why it is happening that that should make it go away, but it doesn’t. Knowing everything and even knowing I’m not the only one doesn’t make it easier. It.Is.Hell. I would use other words or adjectives to describe it, but that one word sums it up well. I make it through every day wondering “will this be gone tomorrow?” Hasn’t happened yet, but there’s always a chance. : )

Thanks for reading!


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