If I had to choose my least favorite part of carrying around my broken brain… it would be tough because there are just so many parts that I
But today, I think that I would have to choose the OCD. It’s just so fucking annoying.
On vacation, in another country, a nice warm country, I can think, I can act, I can react. The past week in Mexico with my family was great. Like a recharge. It was fun and wonderful and all that good stuff. But I also got a vacation from my daily neurosis, a vacation from having to listen to the same song when I walk the same route to work, from having to fill my mind with music while I walk to keep me from falling into my own head, from having to drink the same coffee and eat the same lunch and compulsively check my phone to make sure the world has not imploded (or exploded or overheated or flattened or just ceased to exist).
Like a million little pixies poking at my legs with little tiny toothpicks that look like swords. Not being able to take a single step without considering them is exhausting.
A new environment is like a beautiful fresh start. Everything is new so there is almost nothing that can be ‘redone’ to inherit the safety of yesterday. A carte blanche for new compulsions to grow. But there is that wonderful window of time when the old compulsions aren’t relevant and the new ones haven’t quite had time to lay down their roots. That is my favorite time.
In university, my husband and I traveled Europe. We saw 7 countries and many more cities in 28 days. It was awesome. I didn’t know why at the time but I was doing exactly what I needed by planning such a packed trip.
Coming home last night, I could see my home with fresh eyes. It was wonderful, full of opportunity. But now I know better than to expect that I will actually be able to act on any of my wonderful ideas for home improvement or keeping a handle on things. After a day or two of being home, my OCD will be so ingrained, I just won’t be able to get to it. It’s too stressful to even think about it- I’d rather just give in and eat the same food…again.
Maybe awareness is half the battle…but the other half of this battle is just too big to fight right now – and I’m sick of thinking about myself.
Possible solutions to this problem:
a. research nomadic lifestyle. consider strategies to convince husband that this is a good idea for our careers and our children.
b. nurse a coffee and try to do some work.
I’ll start with solution b. but if it doesn’t work I’m booking four flights…