I've continued to have a rocky time and therapy has been challenging.
I have been allowing myself to be the most vulnerable I have ever been in front of another person, as I have shared experiences of how intrusive thoughts can hijack my 'emotional wellbeing'. That said, there's a bit of comfort in beginning to understand how/why my 'anxiety' spikes.
OCD is a bully. And I've lived with it for 24 years.
I am just now learning how much control it has on me.
It makes me religiously check plug sockets are switched off, potential fire hazards and gives an intense need to hand sanitise at almost every given opportunity.
It's forcing me to worry unnecessarily about my mum and her health. It has been known, in the past to do the same with other people I have been attached to, such as my nan and her ongoing ill-health and my ex-girlfriend who went through cancer treatment during our 6 year relationship. It can, and has done, chosen to change its fixations to do whatever it sees fit.
And no-one had any idea until recently. Still, I’ve only shared this journey with a select few.
It's completely opened my eyes to a different kind of mental health
awareness, and how unhealthy I have been living mentally, despite being what some would say a 'high functioning' and 'inspiring' person.
On the 14th October 2021, I wrote my OCD a letter, via 'Notes' on my iPhone.
This was my pledge to me - that I would do all I can to reduce this disorder's control on my life.
It's always going to be around and I'm not sure it's possible for it to piss off altogether but I intend to dramatically decrease it's presence.
I am actually really impressed with how well I am doing with reducing its habits but with this comes a lot of discomfort and irritability which I need to talk through or at least process internally with kindness in mind.
Conversations in therapy are now around how these thoughts impact my identity and relationships with others. It really does feel like the hardest thing I have ever done, which is crazy because I have overcome so much pain in therapy before, but this is a different kind.
There's something deep inside me that knows I can do this, even on the occasions when I’m telling myself that I'm fucked.
I'm learning in therapy that 'that' voice isn't mine - it's his.
I feel quite vulnerable posting this.
Stephen
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