I was so busy yesterday, finding time to write was like putting socks on a rooster. I have a bunch of things going on right now and only about 1/4 of them are positive things. Most of them are depressing, and maddening, and just down right unpleasant. But me being me, I am trying to stay positive.
I would list the bad things going on but I don't want to depress myself any further. A few good things are that my grandma is finally back home after eighteen days in the hospital. She is doing well. My youngest had a school Christmas performance. It was really adorable as all little kid school performances are. We haven't frozen to death this winter....yet. Christmas is just around the corner. We still have a roof over our heads....
It is the small things like this that keep me going. Because the bad stuff just seems to pile up and add on and procreate until it starts to feel like they are physically laying on your chest smothering you last breath out of your lungs.
So what did I do? Well, first I had a good ole cry. A big one. Like one of those migraine inducing from the snot moving around in your sinuses because you have cried so long and so hard kind of cry. Then after that I looked at myself in the mirror, in which I realized no one should ever have to look at themselves after that kind of cry....scary. Then I prayed and gave it all to God, because I am at a complete and total loss as to what I am supposed to do to fix anything or change any type of outcome. Then I made myself get up, shower, dress, and slather on my "war paint" and went to my kid's play.
I refused to dive into the rabbit hole of OCD today. Even though there is this really odd errant smell of old beans in my kitchen (we haven't had any beans). I did not allow myself to search it out and clean the whole kitchen with an old toothbrush and bleach. I refused to let my anxiety act up when the person behind me at the play was coughing and sneezing. I wouldn't go so far as to say I would lick their shoes or sit beside them or anything, but I didn't change seats or cover my mouth and nose with the collar of my shirt like I wanted to. I did not vacuum away my anxiety or hand wash till my hands bled. I guess that is a good start.
My OCD seems under control outwardly and is only noticeable when I am not stressed but let's be real, who is never stressed? I am completely stressed. I am overloaded with it, hung up by it, strangled from it, and drowning in it. So, yea my OCD is going to flare up. It is going to try and rise from the ashes as the proverbial mental illness phoenix and take it's ugly smelly wrath out on me and I am not having any of it. I am unafraid. I am not about to give this damn bird another hour of my life, another day, another week, another month, another year. It will try and I may fail but it is not going to do this to me without a damn good fight on it's hands. I just hope it has it's boxing gloves on because I mean business.
I am just going to do whatever I have to do and keep plugging along taking back my life from OCD bit by bit. Centimeter by centimeter until it becomes inch by inch. Inches until it becomes feet. Feet until becomes miles. I will never be OCD free but I don't have to accept being OCD enslaved. This is me breaking my chains. This is me cutting the ties that bind. This is me retaking back my life. Go suck an egg, OCD. I have enough issues going on without you bothering me relentlessly. I got this. I got this.