Then it is afternoon. Somehow, the day seems like it is slipping through my fingers. I eat lunch, which I have never liked. Lunch always makes my stomach curl. It doesn't matter what I eat. I think it might be anxiety. I jot notes on paper only to lose them in my cleaning spree. I bet if you opened the desk drawers and cabinet doors you would millions of my half assed thoughts lying around. Not that they would make much sense singularly, all together even less so. They are the keys to the thought narrative in my head. Sometimes a few lines, sometimes just a sentence, mostly just a word or two. As if my OCD mind is some dark hidden diary that requires a special key to unlock and reads it's secret contents. Although, they really aren't so secret since I write many of them in here. They are just reminders of things I want to write about.....or phrases that touch my soul. Other people's quotes, poems, prose...ect.
I was thinking about how when I am in the car and looking out the window, I often think about riding horses in the deep green grass. I think about running through corn mazes and having picnics. I think about how money seems like such an odd concept for me. Not because I have ever had much but because I have never had much. Even if I did, I would probably give most of it away. I always want to help others, do for those that have less than me, and I find many things to be ridiculously priced these days. I don't need a bouquet of roses, just pick some wild flowers on the side of the road. I don't need diamonds and fancy shoes. I hate shoes, they make my feet sweaty. I don't know, maybe that is weird?
I think about how everything seems like people become more and more detached form each other. I used to write long thought out hand written letters on vintage stationary I bought from various resale shops and send them to my loved ones. All of the people I used to write to have since passed. They were the older generation. I receive no letters and send none back. It is kind of sad really. I get bills though....yay. (sarcasm)
I think about how my oldest is turning into a teenager and I worry if I am teaching him the right things. Do I teach him to really listen to the world around him? Do I teach him the importance of liking himself and trusting his intuitions? Because a low self esteem is a horrible cross to bear and a hard one to rectify. Do I teach him how to stand up for himself and the things he believes in? Do I teach him that life is love and music is a representation of life and therefore universal? Do I teach him that of all things in life I find to be important, compassion is the biggest and sometimes hardest thing to learn? Do I teach him that education is something to be serious about? Do I teach him to be fearless in his pursuits and to always question everything and to never give up?.....Hell I don't know. I try. I hope these things are coming through, but with a teenager it can be hard to tell. He is an amazing kid,so I must be doing something right. After I write this I am going to call my mom and apologize again for being a teenager.....because wow....just wow. They are a real trip. I never appreciated all that she did for me like I do now that I am doing it for my kids. It's an eye opener.
I think about what it must be like to live unafraid of the things I am afraid of. I think about how some apples were recalled for Listeria. My husband just bought some apples too. I most likely will not be eating them. I might if I feel up to battling the contamination fears. I don't at this exact moment. Maybe later...
I think about blood sugar levels and weight loss. I think about vacuuming the carpet. I think about finding things to write about and this horrid writer's block. I think about my husband's upcoming birthday, and wanting to train to run a marathon, and of learning to be secure in myself enough to go places on my own. I think about what nightclubs must be like because I am a horrid dancer and have never actually been in one. I think about bookstores and antique shops, and how much I love the smell of old musty books. I think about the Winter being over because I detest the cold. I think about how nice the aroma of wood burning fireplaces and bonfires are. I think about the garden I am going to plant in the Spring as a memorial to my aunt because she liked pretty things and her favorite color was green.... I think about anything and everything in rapid succession and I wonder if maybe I have a touch of ADD with my OCD or if this is just how an overactive brain works.
It seems like thinking is all I ever do. A never ending, never ceasing mumble in the back of my brain much like the sound of a train passing by in the background. Only the train never passes fully, either that or it is the world's longest train track occupied by the world's longest train. If it is a train, then I hope it has a caboose like the ones I used to see as a kid when I played near the tracks of my great grandmother's house. Cabooses are a thing of the past too, and they were so neat looking. Children these days really miss out on some of the old cool things. Makes me feel a tad bit ancient.
I guess this post is about how OCD just never really stops. It is manageable but it is never quiet. Never fully silent. There will always be thoughts, and wondering, and thinking about stupid and or ridiculous things. There will always be that mumble in the back of your brain, even if the loud thoughts and images aren't present. It gets to be where you don't notice it as much. It is just something you learn to tune out. It is part of the OCD experience, I suppose. But hey, I always liked trains so I am not too bothered by it.