The obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) is in control.
Like something out of a horror movie, it grips me from the shadows, and I can’t fight it. To give you an idea of how bad it is, I finished that last sentence, yelled, “See you next time!” and tried to run to the car.
I am spelling this blog on a letterboard because I can’t control the compulsions associated with my iPad enough to communicate with it. As my communication and regulation partner (CRP) scribes my words, I can’t stop my mouth from saying, “Bye Lisa.” Poor Lisa. That’s not what I want to say at all.
What I want to say is I have no control in so much of my life and this god-awful OCD seems like it is my way of overcompensating. Less of my life is in the place where I want it to be now and is manifesting as some truly wonky dysregulation.
My therapist is helping me actually process and share feelings that have been locked inside for so many years.
This is so important but so messy.
I don’t know how long this hot mess express train will roll through my life, but I have hope that there is calm and light on the other side.