Grappling with OCD could turn out to be a vehicle for the good stuff
Having a therapist is like speaking to yourself. Only the questions they respond to are relevant and the answers rational. “…your mind is in disarray…” is what she said to me, and it was a valuable piece of feedback to absorb.
First thing in the morning, I wake to hurdle like thoughts in need of addressing before I can progress into the day, navigating a stream of things to say and do that pop into my head at random. Once these obstacles are tackled, the day can then be handled. It is exhausting. There is nothing more tiring than the brain running the mental hamster wheel.
As I write this, I finished a round of wrestling with my inner cultures of illogical philosophies, and tension has set into the back of my neck. The complexity of these thoughts is very simple, but for my irrational brain sheer panic arises and it identifies them as important dealings to settle. Invisible impediments. To me, it’s a demonstration of the power of the mind over body – a nasty one at that. But there are some things I learned to love from this circus of emotional and psychological deviation (I hope it is that, and a temporary one).
At times of rest, when the mental gremlins go on holiday, a holiday of my own begins. Chomping down a piece of chocolate, sitting to relax with a cup of joe, or sitting to watch a movie with my family become simple delights I very rarely enjoy. And so, when the mogwais jump ship for a while, I truly savour the moment of simple pleasures, seldom rushing my viewing points of taste and exploration.
If I am to break free of my cocklebur characters, these elements of rare joy will become a symbol of my psychosomatic emancipation – and maybe, just maybe I will make the most of every situation.