It's 3 a.m. Everyone in the house is asleep. But I'm not. I want to be. But I can't. I can't because my mind won't shut the fuck up. No matter what I do, I'm constantly driving myself insane. As if the intrusive thoughts, constant checking, unswerving need for symmetry, order, and perfection aren't enough. Because nothing ever is. I mean, my lists have lists and then some. Because obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) isn’t just about washing your hands and checking locks —although that's definitely something I do; it's so much more than that. OCD is about constant urges and negative thoughts that even I don't really understand. All I know is that it's annoying AF. Because a majority of my mental energy is spent fighting off those negative thoughts —making it extremely difficult to focus on basic, everyday tasks. So yeah, just because you're a neat freak, doesn't mean you have OCD. For me, it’s like someone else has control of my brain. Like I'm being forced to do an endless number of completely random, pointless chores I don’t even want to do. Because what you don’t see are the thought processes behind the compulsive actions. Because people with OCD don’t organize shit because it brings us joy. We don’t clean because it’s one of our hobbies. Because sometimes, people with OCD don’t clean or organize at all. Because OCD can manifest itself in many different ways. So what's it really like living with OCD? Well, here are four things I deal with every single day.
I don't understand how something so bad, can feel so good? At least it used too. Because when shit was good, it was real good. But when it was, it was really bad. I’ll never forget the first time I met Aiden's mom. I don't think she will either. Actually, I know she won't. Like if I was nervous about not being memorable, I didn't have to be. I definitely nailed that one. And then some. Was that a good thing? That was yet to be determined. I remember knocking on Aiden's front door. I remember walking in and asking, does anyone need help? Maybe I'd bond with his family over dishware and table settings. Because it was your standard meet the parent's dinner. It started off with your typical clichéd pleasantries —a.k.a. a bunch of small talk; filled with vivid introductions —telling Aiden's mom how much I adore her son. I wanted them all to get a sense of who I was. More importantly, I wanted to imply that she did a wonderful job raising a wonderful kid. For the record, that wasn't totally true all of the time. But she didn't need to know that. Hey, I wanted to make a good impression. For the record, an impression was certainly made. Because Aiden's mom said, she was happy he found such a good girl like me. So yeah, thus far, the evening was going way better than I thought. It's just, I wasn't as graceful as I wanted to be. Because the night ultimately ends with me running away from the dining room table crying. It was more of a laughing cry. But yeah. There were definitely tears. Here's how it all went down.
I once heard someone say, don’t let people pull you into their storm. Pull them into your peace. I wish so very much that I could say that's what happened. But that's simply not the case. Because by now, Aiden and I are parked out front of our dealer's place. Something that slowly became our little ritual. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. We simply couldn't stop. Because we were just as much addicted to the process as we were to the drugs themselves. And by now, I was equally as addicted to him. When one mistake turns into another and then another, I realize he's not necessarily the storm. We both were. Because this twisted illusion of us being the people we said we were was a total fucking lie. But we were in love. And that's enough, right? Wrong. At the time, I'd fight you to the death if you said otherwise. And a few times, I actually did. It's just, he was the love of my life and that's what you do? Nope. Wrong again. If you remember from my last post, I promised to continue exactly where I last left out, which is exactly what I'm about to do.
I was never the type to chase a guy. Things with Aiden were going pretty well. So, I didn't really have too. But then, things took a turn. Not yet though. There was still some time in-between. But when it all came to a head, it's like; how did I not see this coming? Because we were getting high nearly every other day. But I was getting away with it, which made it all seem OK. As if me not getting caught justified our addict behavior. It didn't. I see that now. I was in over my head. But I couldn't understand that back then. Even if I did —because I'm pretty sure that's the case, I wouldn't let myself go there. I remember living with this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. My anxiety hit like a permanent hot flash. The truth struck like a chain of explosives. Was today the day? The day my mom would decide to drug test me? That was yet to be determined. Because I wasn't sure how long I could keep everything up. It's just, I knew I couldn't call it quits either. Like I said, in over my head. Because once I started, I quite literally couldn’t stop, which is around the time I lost control. Because that's just it. I had the will to do good but not the power. I mean, how can you stay sober when the guy you're seeing always wants to get high? Because relationships are hard enough. They carry enough shit on their own. But when you add in maintaining your sobriety while trying to maintain a healthy relationship —well, it's nearly impossible for you to do both. So that's where I was at. And this is how it all went down.