Thursday, November 20, 2014

Feeling Like A Loser.....

Today was one of the days I hate....the day I have my three month Diabetes check up. I have to fast which makes me cranky. I have to have my blood drawn and my finger stuck, which doesn't bother me too much as  long as they don't try to press the diabetes stick needle through the other side of my finger. I hate just being in that germ infested place touching things and breathing the same infected air. Ugh.

I was more than a little freaked out when an elderly lady sat next to me, grabbed a magazine from the rack and proceeded to lick her finger and turn the pages one by one. Lick, swipe page, lick, swipe page, lick. ect. I was trying my best not to stare and cringe with every slow motion movement of her finger going to her mouth and back down to the magazine page. I was horrified. All I can say is I hope that lady got her flu shot already.....I really truly do.

After I used hand sanitizer because watching her do that made my hands feel dirty, I got my blood drawn and my finger stick done and my AC1 was higher than my last check up. It was a 6.6 and now it is a 7.2. I was upset. I have been cycling on my elliptical bike five miles a day five days a week. I haven't been as rigid in my diet as before but honestly, with the exercise I thought I was doing well. But I guess that is not the case. Now I have to be on a small dose of an ACE inhibitor to protect my kidneys for the next three months because having an AC1 above 7 can start to cause kidney damage. Hopefully at my next three month check up it will back down to where it was. I am so mad at myself right now. I am not sure what I could do differently but still I am beyond pissed. I am trying to control my Diabetes and get to where I don't need medication and yet now I have somehow messed it up and have to get on yet another medication. Double UGH!

Medications scare me. I have OCD worries about their side effects and I try not to read them because if it is bad, even if it is extremely rare, I will totally wig out about it. And I don't think I need to stress myself out anymore than I already am. I mean...Dear God. Now I am terrified of not taking it because of my stupid Diabetes could be hurting my internal organs and at the same time I am terrified to take the medicine because of side effects that most likely won't even happen to me. And I can't help but feel like this is all of my fault.

I feel really deflated. I am still cranky but now I also feel like a loser. I know that it is a small setback and I can most likely get my AC1 level back down but it just really feels likes I was punched in the gut. Like I can't do the simplest thing. Like I suck at being healthy. Like I just suck period. I think I am just going to have a good cry when I am done writing this. I know that how I am feeling is the negative self talk but that doesn't really make me feel any better at the moment. Triple UGH.

 Oh well, there isn't anything I can do to change the past. All I can do is try harder.....Hopefully I will be in a better mental state on Tuesday and have something funny or uplifting to write about then. Hope you guys have an amazing weekend.

Neurotic Nelly

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Thankful....

So Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching and although I find "thankful" posts on facebook to be annoying and self serving, it is only because people feel the need to post them every day of the month of November. I just find them silly and quiet honestly over done. Usually they revolve around family, which one should always be thankful for in my opinion, unless your family is mean, in which case feeling thankful may be hard to do. And they always say something about the spouse being perfect or the children being angelic....No one is perfect and children are supposed to be little dirt spewing, world upturning, darling little monsters. They are supposed to be difficult and wonderful. They are children and children are miraculous little human beings full of crazed energy, innocence, curiosity and imagination. They are not angelic and that is okay because what they are is better than any words we could possibly dig up, scour through, or make up to describe them.

I guess the posts irritate me for their lack of detail and the implication that we forget to be thankful everyday and only remember now because some stupid trend arises on social media one month a year and that bothers me for some reason.

Maybe because I hate smarmy things that make me cry or maybe because I detect a slight air of bull shit when I read such posts. No one's spouse is the best spouse to walk the earth, they are the best spouse for you. They would most likely be a horrible match for someone else. That makes them the best spouse in the world to you, but alas, not the entire world. That is kind of a tall order and those shoes are too big for any human being to fill. Be real and say that you are thankful for your spouse because they make you coffee in the morning or they put up with your snoring or your PMS. Be less vague and more descriptive of why you are thankful for them because they mean a great deal to you and probably deserve more than just some generic post about how they are the bee's knees.

Children are wonderful, lovely, exhausting and exhilarating but they are not little angels.  They aren't angelic because they are human beings. Tiny human beings that drive you crazy but human beings none the less. Reality is you should be thankful for them because they are yours and they make you happy and you are a family but cut the bullshit already. You know  that your kids refuse to even let you sit on the toilet without asking you where the black lego piece went or where the cat hid, or without them sticking their tiny little fingers under the door just to remind you that you are not alone while you are trying to "do your business". Be thankful for them yes, but not the false advertisements you pretend they are. Be thankful for them exactly for who they are now because one day they will grow up and you will get to use the bathroom quietly because they are off to college and you will never again see their tiny fingers wiggling under the bathroom door....and believe it or not you will miss it. Be thankful for them because they are your children and your husband and you are blessed to have them, flaws and all, miracles and all, love and all.

And I guess maybe I get irritated reading the simplicity of people's "thankful" posts. There is so much to be thankful for that they never seem to post. They have a whole month to talk about all that they are thankful for and it is always the same generic things everyone else blabs on their posts. Be original. Almost never do you see them being thankful for small things like being able to get out of bed in the morning. Because a lot of people struggle with such things and to be able to do so is something to be thankful for.

There is no thankfulness for food on the table when so many struggle to provide such for their families. No thankfulness for the job in an economy that has so little jobs available in certain areas. No thankfulness for the neighbors that may shovel snow out of your walkway just because they want to be helpful or thankfulness for the medications so many of us have access to when in many countries something as small as antibiotics are hard to come by. There are so many many things to be thankful for and they deserve to be thanked more than just one month a year. They should be thanked every single day because without these many things that make our lives bearable and easier, our lives would be completely different.

I am thankful for so much in my life and no I don't need to schmooze or be dramatic about them or use generic generalizations to describe them. I don't care what people think of just what I am thankful for or how it may appear to others. I am thankful for them and I am thankful for them every single day.

I am thankful for my family even though they are crazy and silly and broken and odd. I am thankful for my children who keep me on my toes and have shown me the true meaning of unconditional love. I am thankful for my husband who drives me insane and makes me mad and makes me laugh and is the one person in the world that knows me better than I know myself. I am thankful for my home and heaters and clean water and medicines and neighbors and pets. I am thankful for a pillow to rest my head on and thankful to be able to get in up in the morning and not let things like depression keep me there with my head on said pillow all day. I am thankful for my friends and my readers, and this blog. All of which have supported me and helped me to see things in a way I may have missed all on my own. I am thankful for the freedom of speech and God and the ability to believe what I choose and not have to be afraid that those beliefs would imprison me or endanger my family. I am thankful for the sun coming out today even though it was frigid outside and the ground was covered in ice. I am thankful that I didn't slip and fall on that ice even though I was expecting too. I am thankful for the internet and books and paper and pens. I am thankful for the flowers in Spring and the leaves that turn such pretty colors and drop to the earth in the Fall. I am thankful for the snowmen we will make in the Winter and the shorts we will wear in the Summer. I am thankful for music because it is one of the few things that drown out my obsessing about stuff. I am thankful for only washing my hands ten times today instead of the usual twenty times I wash them daily. I am thankful for being able to rant to my best friend so I can stop worrying over things that make it impossible for me to sleep. I am thankful for my Dad who listens to all of my medical fears and never gets frustrated with me even when I am disgusted with myself because I can't stop being afraid. I am thankful for my Mom and Grandma who understand what I go through and always offer support and acceptance. I am thankful for the many other OCD sufferers out there that go through what I go through and help me to feel less alone. I am thankful for those that fight the stigma against mental illness because we deserve to be treated like the wonderful human beings that we are. I am thankful for the  voice to speak and the words to write because for so long I felt I had neither of those things in my life. I am thankful for the struggles I have gone through because they made me stronger and although I hate the things my OCD does to me I am thankful that I will keep fighting because I know I have to. I am thankful for so many many things and I will be damned if I just think about them on November of every year. I will be damned if I make them sound paltry or normal of less amazingly life changing as they are. I will be damned if I post "thankful" posts on facebook in November because I am always thankful and I don't have time for that. I am too busy being thankful than to throw some regurgitated peice of fluff on a fb post and hope that it makes me fashionable and acceptable. I don't care if I am acceptable and I am thankful for that as well.

So, in short don't be thankful for what you have in the month of November. Be thankful for them always because even in the darkest of days, in the worst of hours there is always.....always something to be thankful for. You simply have to take a moment, breathe, look around and see it.



Neurotic Nelly




Thursday, November 13, 2014

Messed Up.....

I took a blog hiatus for my last two blogging days. It has been a mixture of things that have left me exhausted, overwhelmed, and incapable of processing all of my thoughts on paper.

Basically, my OCD has come to a head. I couldn't figure out just what was causing it. Could be my husband's new job, or Christmas coming up, or all of the online school things I am responsible for, or the weather...but honestly all of these things have been going on before my OCD decided to kick into full fledged panic. No, there has to be something else that I just can't handle at face value.

You see, how my OCD works is that when something is stressful, instead of me reacting to said stressful thing with stress, I go numb about it. As a result of the stress I should be feeling, my OCD kicks into overdrive. If bills should be the cause of my stress, my OCD brain will go numb to the fear of not being able to pay them and start concentrating on whether a small pain in my side is cancer. I get anxiety about the thing that isn't real and not about the things that are.

I often compare it to Dissociative Identity Disorder. Not that I have more than one personality, I don't. But that when a person with DID comes across a situation the main person can not handle a different person takes their place so they can cope. My OCD is very much like that when it is triggered. Instead of me dealing with whatever is stressing me out, my OCD reacts instead of me reacting. I can't handle dealing with whatever is triggering me, so my OCD numbs me to it only to stress me out about something I know is not very likely. Almost like it is some defunct coping mechanism.

It makes no sense and it is not helpful to me at all but that is what is going on with me lately.

In my last few blog posts I have been more angry and less positive. I mean, my blog isn't always going to be happy and inspiring. I am a real person, not some robot. My blog is usually positive but that doesn't mean it is always going to be rainbows and unicorn farts. Sometimes it will be sad, or painful, or glum. It happens. My life happens and let's face it, sometimes my life can be sad, painful, and glum.

 So, I took stock in the things that were changing around me to try and figure out what has gotten me in such a state I am unable to even sleep properly and it hit me. Two weeks ago......two weeks ago I asked about my Aunt's autopsy results. It has been two months and we still have no idea what she died from. I still haven't been able to grieve but I feel it bubbling up inside me. It just won't come out. I have tried and tried to make it come to the surface but I feel almost like it is jammed up. Like the flow of my emotions are dammed up with anger, frustration, broken promises, wet newspaper, and little bits of straw. I can feel the current moving underneath my skin and I am hopeful that the autopsy results will give me the answers I seek and in turn  unleash the damn and let the stagnant emotions free. The stench of the black water that is my emotions is literally making me feel insane. I need to be able to understand, to acknowledge, to breath again. I feel like I am drowning in it. I am praying that this little printed piece of paper can unwind my ties to it. That it will finally allow me to grieve. That I can finally stop waiting to feel again and start to heal.

Everyday I wait for my mother to call me and tell me what some medical examiner found in my Aunt's body. I don't know how to feel about her being cut open and dissected, so I feel nothing at all. It is necessary but still it is hard for me to put into words the oddness of talking about a paper that describes her like some specimen in a jar. That the person they are describing by organ weight is the same woman that taught me that I should put perfume behind my ears not on my neck, or how to play gin rummy and never lose , or that there is, in fact, such a thing as a panty line and that people do actually notice such things. (Well, I don't but apparently other people do.)

I know I should be devastated and yet everyday I sit both eager and horrified to know just what happened. I need to know. I can't accept not knowing, and honestly I don't think I can let her go till I do know and yet I am terrified to know all at the same time. I fear I have blocked up my emotions so high and let that dam get so big that when it finally bursts it may actually take me down with it and drown me in it's sorrow. I feel so inadequate. I feel so broken. I feel so numb and yet agitated. So helpless. So emotionally stunted. So desperate and yet not caring equally. I am an emotional ball of raw nerve endings and burnt out electrical impulses. In all honesty, I have never felt so crazy in my entire life as I do right now.

So after waiting on pins and needles and anxious nausea, I just found out that the reason it hasn't come in the mail yet is because they just mailed it....last night.  And now God knows how many more of days of this I am going to have sit through. I am guessing three or four. I really have no idea. Anyway, that is why I haven't written. I am just so broken right now. I am not sure that anything I am doing makes very much sense. And when I feel this completely messed up, my writing suffers with it. I plan to write on Tuesday as usual. Maybe by then I will have some answers and be in a better mental state. I hope you all are doing well. Sending positive thoughts your way....


Neurotic Nelly


Tuesday, November 4, 2014

It's Not So Bad.....

I am a positive person. I am a positive thinker. I am one of those annoying "the glass is half full" kind of people. I strive to see the silver lining even in the midst of a hurricane as it tears away the walls of my home and pokes holes in my ceiling. I believe that having a positive attitude is necessary for me to keep going when things get complicated and tough because things for me are always complicated and tough. I even have taught my children that anything worth having is hard because life is never easy and if something is easy it usually isn't worth having.

I am a positive individual that tries to see good in every situation. What I am not, is stupid, naive, nor am I an idiot. I am not ignorant or obtuse. I am well read, I spell impeccably but type like I have ham hocks for fingers, I have a high I.Q. although I suck at math. I curse too much. I hate couscous and have an aversion to sushi. I scream obscenities at the football game on my television even though I don't really care who wins. I watch hockey not because I know the teams or care about the scoreboard, I just like to watch people get checked into the walls. I am not perfect. I am not a saint and I certainly have things to atone for in my life. I am sensitive and kind and I am a people pleaser.

My point is, I have lived my whole life trying to please everybody. Trying to fit in. Trying to not be a burden on anyone. I have spent 31 years pretending to be okay. We all do it. We all pretend that OCD is not how it actually is. Sometimes we say it has good qualities to it. Sometimes we claim it is a gift. Sometimes we act as if it is funny or something that doesn't really affect our lives. I have seen people say that they have OCD but only enough to make them "cute" about it. We have even gone so far as to compare our symptoms to each others so we can pretend that it isn't as horrible as it is. Then we chide ourselves for complaining that it has caused us issues or that we get upset by it because other people may have it more severely than we do. Like we have no right to be irritated or upset. Like we have something to apologize for because it still bothers us.

An analogy of this would be if you woke up this morning and your hand just fell of your wrist and landed on the floor.  You would be concerned. You would be upset. Would you be less upset if you found out later that some guy two states over woke up with his whole arm gone? Would that make your pain any less real or your frustrations any less valid? No. You would have compassion for him and feel bad for his loss too but you would still have to live your life without your hand and you would have every right to feel however you felt about losing said hand and everything that has to change because you now only have one hand to work with.

 OCD is the same way. It doesn't matter who has it and to what degree, if you have OCD and it bothers you then you have a right to be mad, upset, frustrated, depressed, irritated, or disturbed by it. You have a right to your feelings about how OCD bothers you. You are not being whiny or over dramatic because Bob in sales has to wash his hands forty two times and all you do is use hand sanitizer twenty six times a day. Your pain is your pain and it is okay to say that. It is okay to not be okay. You shouldn't have to pretend that your OCD doesn't affect you if it does.

We have convinced ourselves that OCD is just not that bad and in doing so, have convinced everyone else that too. We have made it seem  like  OCD isn't as bad as other illnesses. It isn't as hard on your mental stability. It isn't as painful. It isn't as note worthy. We are constantly making excuses for it or covering it up. We tell little bitty white lies about it that fester and grow until those little white lies have all been painted together and are now the whitewash we paint ourselves with.

We don't go up to people and say, "Hi my name is Nelly. I have OCD and my life is a fucking disaster because of it." No we say paltry things like ,"Yea, I have OCD and I wash my hands sixty times a day but hey...I like clean hands. I mean, it's not that bad." or "Oh, you know, I can't drive anymore because I keep thinking I have ran over people even though I know I haven't so I have to get out of my car six times to make sure. But I always wanted to learn the bus route anyway."  We may tell people we have it but then we move on because it is easier to let others think that we just like to clean or are just quirky. We are so used to acting like it is no big deal that we start to believe it ourselves.....

We excel at pretending that what we go through isn't really because of the soul sucking succubus that lives in our minds. We don't want others to think poorly of us so we don't announce the pain we are in or the struggles we go through daily. We don't want to be a burden or make other people uncomfortable. Never mind, that we are always uncomfortable. As long as no one else is, it is okay. It's not so bad.

I am a positive person but let me be a realist for a second. OCD is not some wondrous gift bestowed upon the lucky few that have been graced with it. It's Hell. Pure mental disfigurement, terror inducing, emotional torture. It's fear and dread and a constant overwhelming plague of guilt. It is a full course meal of pain and frustration. It is a daily struggle just to keep your head above water to breathe. It is a drowning of realty. It is pulling your hair out until you have bald patches, and picking your skin until it scars. It is believing that something is wrong with your body even though no one else sees it but you. It is washing your hands until they bleed, or avoiding places, people, things because you are terrified of your own mind and what it shows you. It is touching, counting, checking things for hours and hours and hours only to have to stand there and do it again. It is living in a constant state of doubting yourself, your mind, the whole world around you. It is being unable to control racing thoughts of violence or sex or blasphemy and then hating yourself and blaming yourself for not being able to control the unwanted thoughts in the first place. It is being afraid of anything or everything and sometimes both at the same time. It is feeling alone and scared and completely fucked up because unlike other mental illnesses you are perfectly aware that it is fucked up in the first place. It is crying yourself to sleep at night, or worrying yourself sick , or having the same thought loop through your mind over and over and over and over an over and over and over again until you want to fucking stick your fingers down your throat in hopes that you can finally purge this evil thing, this mental demon that refuses to let you be. This isn't a pleasure cruise or a college road trip. This isn't about being neat or tidy. This has nothing to do with organization or being punctual. This is Hell. No, this is worse than Hell ever thought about being. This is OCD. This is Hell on steroids mixed with caffeine and a cigarette addiction. This is Hell in technicolor with surround sound. This is Hell imprinted on a broken record trapped under the bent needle of a child's 1950's plastic red Fisher-Price record player.

If it were like we try and brush it off to be, if it were not so bad as we play act it out, than instead of it plaguing it's sufferer it would wear a pink polka dot apron, have a bake sale, and hand out free cupcakes. It would get you promotions instead of making it impossible to function at work or in some cases, like mine, unable to work at all. If it were truly no big deal then people wouldn't commit suicide because of it or become depressed because they have it.

I am not saying that having it makes you doomed or that you can't live with it. I am not saying you can't fight it or manage it. I am not saying that we should all become morose or macabre about it. I am just saying we have to stop minimizing it's affects on our lives to other people. We have to stop comparing our symptoms and severity with others. You have it and it hurts and that is all that needs to be understood.  We have to stop people pleasing and worrying about how uncomfortable talking about how it really is to others will make them feel. We have to be real about it because if we act like it is not so bad, how are other people going to understand what we go through? How do we expect them to change their views on it if we keep brushing it off and making it sound like it is no big deal? How can we heal if we keep acting like it isn't the huge ugly vomit colored elephant in the room that it clearly is? I mean, I think if we want people to take what we go through seriously than we have to let them know what we actually go through and just how serious it can be.

OCD is not so bad, it's horrible. It is painful. It is life altering. It is just as serious as every other mental illness. It is a killer, a wounder of souls, a damager to people's lives. It is not a gift, it is a mental illness. It is not cute or fashionable no more than diabetes is cute or fashionable. It is an illness and it causes suffering and I think people should stop treating like it is not so bad, when clearly that is not the truth.



Neurotic Nelly




Thursday, October 30, 2014

Happy Halloween, Ghouls and Gals....

Tomorrow is Halloween. I love this holiday. It is the one day a year you can be anyone you want to be and not worry about being thought of as kooky or odd. I don't dress up anymore but my kids do. I am allergic to Halloween makeup. It chemically burns my face and both my kids were born with my extra sensitive skin (I am sure they are thrilled about that) leaving us to be more creative when creating costumes.

I may be scared of almost everything but the one thing that does not scare me is haunts. People dressed up in creepy costumes walking around, jumping out at you with props, bad lighting, fog machines and eerie sound effects don't bother me in the least. Give me someone coughing in my direction and I am totally freaked out. Give me some asshat in a clown costume with a chainsaw without the blade making moaning noises at me and I laugh. It seems ridiculous to me. They can't hurt you, the common cold can....

A few years ago my oldest and I were trick or treating when we had to walk up on this guy's porch. It was dark and he had so many decorations in the yard that you had to walk all the way around just to go up the steps. He was sitting in the corner decked out in some monstrous skeletal costume. My oldest was completely freaked out. I elbowed him gently with a fake smile plastered on my face and whispered through my teeth,"just take the candy and let's go". I wasn't scared but the weird slow movements the guy was making as he was going to give my kid the candy made me a tad bit uncomfortable. It was almost as if he was  robotic in movement and he was completely silent. He got his hand about three inches from my kid and my kid bolted. I have never seen him move so fast in his entire life. He jumped off of the porch with so much speed and force he took out half of the creepy guy's yard decorations and almost knocked over some big dude standing there chatting with other trick or treater's parents. I was left there with creepy guy unsure of what to do, so I held out my hand for the candy he still had in his hand and kept the fake smile plastered on my face and mouthed sorry at him. I mean, I am not sure what protocol you are supposed to go through when someone scares your kid so badly they actually end up destroying half of their Halloween display.

Anyway we currently avoid that house, partly out of embarrassment and partly because I prefer my children to not have nightmares every night for the next six years of their lives. When my kids stop trick or treating and they want to stay home to pass out candy to the other kids, maybe I will dress up and we will decorate the yard. I will just make sure not to be too scary for the kids or make odd robotic movements because that shit is super creepy, even to people like me that find all of this "scary" stuff ridiculous.

Hope you all have a safe and happy Halloween! Happy Halloween Ghouls and Gals!

Neurotic Nelly


Tuesday, October 28, 2014

I Just Wonder...

When I was younger, I would be outside playing and sometimes I would hear the people in their houses sitting down for dinner clinking the silverware on their plates, or washing dishes, or talking to each other in their sitting rooms with calm content voices. I couldn't make out what they were actually saying but I could tell by their tone of voice it was an amiable conversation. I imagined it was something normal and like small talk or conversations about work or bills or school, and I would wonder what their lives must be like. What would it be like to live in their family sitting at their table? What did they do on Sundays? Or even Mondays? What were their jobs like? Did they tuck their kids into bed with a story or a lullaby and a night light to ward off bad dreams? Did they pack lunches for them for school in the morning or just give them the money to buy it in the cafeteria? Did they eat cereal for breakfast or toast? Did they go swimming on weekends or camping or to soccer games? I always wondered what other people's lives were like, and if they were anything like mine. I guess that wondering never really left me because I still wonder what other people's lives are like today. When I see people walk down the street in crazy mismatched bold outfits or people in shorts and tank tops with their arms and legs covered in tattoos I begin to wonder. What do they do? What books do they read? What hobbies do they have? When they go home at night, do they have a dog, or cat, or a ferret, maybe a goldfish waiting for them? Maybe they don't like pets...maybe they are allergic....maybe they go home to a cozy little apartment with mismatched furniture and hand me down rugs? Maybe they live in a house? Maybe they don't live anywhere but where the mood takes them? Maybe their family is nice? Maybe their family is mean? Maybe they have no family at all? Do they listen to music? Classical? Rock? Rap? Folk?

I don't know why I do this or even why I did as a child, except other people's lives fascinate me. I guess it is because I have always been so scared of everything. So terrified of life. So afraid of anything new and most things that are old and everything in between. So I try and imagine what it would be like to not be scared to live. I imagine great and wonderful possibilities when I see these people. Quiet dinners around the table with no one getting up to leave because the noises of people chewing in their mouths drive them insane. I imagine comfort and coziness rather than anxiety and cleaning the baseboards with a butter knife and soapy water. I imagine the person covered in tattoos as brave because needles hurt and tattoos are permanent and what must it be like to have something to say that you believe in so strongly you want your skin to say it for the rest of your life? I am not sure that I have anything to say that is that meaningful or believe worthy enough to ever be permanent. I imagine the boldly dressed person as courageous and as someone who marches to the beat of their own drum and doesn't give a damn what other people think and I envy them because I do care what other people think. Even though I know I shouldn't. I don't really want to care but I do....and I wonder...what must it be like to be that way? To be different than how I am...to be free. Too be normal. To be not scared......I wonder.

It even happens to me on television shows or movies. Especially period movies set in a different time. I was watching a mobster movie set in the forties last night and I was interested in the story line and yet I caught myself wondering again. What would it have been like to know so little about diseases and germs? How would it have been to just live your life not worrying that every little pain or ache or cramp meant something medically horrible was wrong with you? You would never worry about it because they didn't know much about that stuff in those days. You got something bad, it made you sick but you didn't go around being plagued by the thought of it because you didn't know any better. You just lived life the way you wanted to. The freedom they must of had from the fear of it. Freedom of the fear of germs and diseases and medical issues, I will never know because now that I know about them, I fear them constantly. I always have. Then I have to sit there and ask myself what is wrong with me. I mean, here is this terrific and moving movie and all I can think about is how wonderful it would have been to share the drink with the love interest on the show and not wince when he puts the glass to his lips and not be all," Um, you have had your flu shot right?". Or how nice it must be to sit at the bar and actually eat the pretzels in the bowl on the counter that everyone and their grandmothers has had their hands in and not bat an eye....Or how freeing it would be to run around and not be terrified that every little bothersome twinge is a sign that you have a serious malady. I could dance, or sing, or run around in high heels and flapper dresses and not give damn. My God, what would that be like? To not be paranoid, or weird, or terrified, or OCD?

It just stuns me. How other people live their lives so freely and unaware and they seem happy. They seem carefree. They seem sooooo normal and it fascinates me. This normal that I have been told time and time again that I would never achieve. This word that eludes me no matter how hard I try or how hard I play act at it. I know that I can not be free of my OCD. That I will never be OCD free completely. That I will never be normal.......and I know that the tattooed guy probably has a tattoo of Tweetybird on his ass that he got in college on a dare and regrets it, or that the boldly dressed lady is probably just color blind or crazy or both, and that the dinners I heard as a child were probably just mac n cheese and sliced hot dogs and that the conversations were probably about stupid things like what the neighbor said about the guy across the street and that television and movies aren't real and that normal supposedly doesn't really exist. I know all of that and yet I still cant help but wonder what it would feel like or be like or if it had a taste what would it taste like? Would it be bitter or sweet or would it taste like popcorn? Or if i"normal" were a thing, an actual solid thing, could I hold it in my hand? Would it be heavy like a brick or would it be light and fluffy like a marmalade sandwich? Would it be sticky like peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth on a hot day or hard and gritty and substantial? Because I know that fear tastes coppery and metallic, and I know anxiety is bitter and tastes salty like tears, and I know that my fears aren't tactile and my hands are empty yet they feel so very very full of broken dreams and worries and desperation that slip through my fingers daily, and I know how heavy and substantial OCD is on your soul, and so I just wonder....what would, what could, how would it be to finally just live unafraid.... to be different.....to be like everyone else....to be normal.

Neurotic Nelly

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

My First Test.....

People with OCD are fantastic actors. We look normal. We blend into most any situation. We hide our symptoms as often as we can the best that we can and most of the time no one has any idea there is something broken in our minds.

For instance, I may be in an elevator with a group of people. There may seem to be too many people on the elevator but I have to be on it too. I don't outwardly freak out but inside my OCD is freaking out," What if we are exceeding the weight limit? What if this whole things comes tumbling down?" and God forbid, someone sneeze or cough in the elevator with me in it. However, all you see in this situation is me with a fake smile plastered all over my face. You see a polite, normal person. You see a woman, a mother, an individual. What you don't see is that this woman, mother, and individual is screaming inside of her mind.

I have been out of hand sanitizer for two weeks now. I have been out of the house three times. It has been unbelievably hard. My first test was going to the doctors office. I had to sign in with some mechanical machine with a stylus, I damn well know everyone and their dog's have touched. I had to touch door knobs and chairs and elevator buttons (things I usually avoid by using my sleeve instead of my fingers). I searched for any hand sanitzer in the office with desperation and found nothing. Sure, I looked calm on the outside but on the inside I was screaming. I was totally freaked out. The Price is Right was on the office television. The beeps of the wheel turned into a long annoying sound of dings and pings. The audience clapping became a loud obnoxious murmur. The sounds of the people in the doctors office became a background noise. A cough, a sneeze, some woman in tight pants and an animal print shirt continued to clear her throat and make annoying sniffing sounds while she read something on her cell phone....and then my brain took over. Everything faded away and the silence came. I no longer heard or tasted or smelled. The only sense left in my body was feeling the germs. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw my saving grace, a wall with a hand sanitizer pump on it. Hallelujah! I walked quickly over to it and pumped the glorious germ killing miracle gel all over my hands. Relief!

Then a few days later I went to the grocery store. Again this is where I would have used my hand sanitizer at anytime I would feel the start of the OCD contamination and germ fears but I did not have my fall back hand sanitizer. I seemed happy on the outside but on the inside my mind was reeling." Don't touch the cart, don't touch the counter, Leave the package of raw meat alone, germs, germs, germs, germs...tainted, tainted, tainted...dirty, dirty, dirty...."
I was so worried and anxious through the whole experience that I totally forgot to buy hand santizer for myself. I made it through and made it home without touching my face with my tainted hands, and then promptly washed my hands as soon as I walked through the door....Relief!

I need to get more sanitizer but I am kinda stoked I was able to get through both of my major triggers without my trusty hand sanitizer and still made it through with out an outward, ugly,extreme breakdown in public. Which is exciting because a few years ago I am not sure that would have been possible.

Neurotic Nelly