SOMEONE TOLD ME YOU CAN CURE OCD

Today, I was told there is a way to cure OCD. Now, I don't think I know everything, and I will admit that I don't. I do know some things and I know OCD is here to stay. It has been in my blood for 39 years and has no intentions of leaving this body. I do believe, though, that some forms of OCD can be cured. Sometimes situations are what cause anxiety in which a mild form of OCD occurs. That is understandable to me. My OCD, though, gets mad if I don't at least recognize it the first thing I do in the morning and the last thing I do before sleep arrives. 


Why do I doubt this "cure" that is the craze since HOWIE MANDELL's admission? Well, I've had mine before he came out of the crazy closet, and I can bet that he is taking a pill cocktail like I am that helps relax the brain so that certain OCD'S are not needed. How this works, I'm not sure. I read up on this all the time, and wonder where is my wonder drug, my hypnosis, my cure? It doesn't exist for everyone. I guess it's kind of like that wonder drug made a few years back called VIAGRA. Now, Viagra was meant to be for heart problems in the early stages and through studies found that it helped with erections. It helped so well that they started producing the drug and advertising it for men who have a hard time with their erections. There is a BUT though, not everyone can take this medication. Not everyone will be cured of erectile dysfunction. Not everyone will be cured of OCD.


I know it was a bit lame to put those two in the same category, but you have to understand how my mind works. In order to read my blogs, you have to clear your mind of normal thinking and see that I go in directions that make no sense to those who have no mental illness. I have been told on many occasions that I loose people. I don't see it and never know when it is that they get lost.


I made this blog specifically to talk about mental illness, but there is more to my life than just that. Am I supposed to follow protocol that I set up or can I give a glimpse into my real life? I have Facebook, and although I use it like most people work, it is a very impersonal avenue for me. I made it for networking and honing a craft I felt was my calling. I am now lost; that calling wasn't for me and it made me look like a terrible person. So, I get real in my journals so I am going to be real with my new blog site. Hold on for this ride, because you are about to get to know the real me.


Today in therapy my mom and I were trying to go down the list of all the jobs I have had throughout my adulthood. We laughed at this because how I achieved the positions I did was amazing. I could bullshit my way through just about anything and be believable. Once, and this is the truth, I became the AD for a nursing home. Yes, I know you are sitting back and thinking how in the world did she get that job with no experience.  Here is how I did it: I called another nursing home and asked for their AD. When we were on the phone, I was asking her all kinds of questions about the job and what all it meant to do the job. When I applied for the position, I had the information needed to write on the resume. Was hired the next day for the position. My mom, of course, is mortified by how I scammed businesses by getting hired for positions I was never qualified for. I will say this, I never put any false college degree's on my resume'. I just put that I was still in college, which isn't really a lie, considering I can go back at any time. I never kept those jobs though. It would become  obvious I was in over my head, or I wouldn't show up for work half of the time. Let's just say I haven't a very good work record. Possibly one of the worse ones out there if the truth be told. 


It used to bother me that I couldn't hold a job for long. I understand why it is now, but for years I felt like a loser. Now I tell myself I am doing what I am meant to do, and that is, well nothing. I don't work. It's not because I am lazy. I just can't keep attempting to work and have employers train me only to waste their time with me quitting. There is no reason to waste their money or time. I don't work because I get stuck in my house. I have said that so many times but it is true. If there were a cure for OCD I would be the first in line, you can believe that. 

IS IT ME?

Everyday I have the same routine. No deviation, no need to change things because it works. This blog is not really going to be about mental illness, and even though I want to keep with that genre, there are times when things in our lives are more interesting. No talk of OCD or Bipolar or even anxieties. Today is a new day with new thoughts.

.

I woke this morning at 2 a.m. and I was out of my element. I grabbed my cane *oh i fall a lot so it's to keep my knees from any more scars* and go sit outside. Now, I don't particularly enjoy the outdoors, especially when it is very hot but this morning it was very nice. I light up a cigarette, sit back and close my eyes until I feel something extremely slimy touch my foot. I am not sure if I ever mentioned that I do not like surprises, spiders, snakes, gingivitis, ingrown toenails and an assortment of other things, but I found a new dislike: SLUG.

At first I could only feel the slime, then it was weird because it almost seemed like a glowing dog turd was moving. It was the first time I had actually been around a slug, but there she was, by my foot and leaving a glowing trail behind her. I actually freaked out so much that I leaned over and puked. Well, more like dry heaves, but that counts as puking to me. I just happened to have my laptop with me and I Googled slug. To my surprise they will not harm me, but every time I looked at it I would dry heave. I could not leave because I felt as though I was kidnapped by this gooey mass.

I hate to finish the story on this note, and please believe me when I say I had no idea what I was doing. I leaned over in the chair watching this snotty goo get ready to go over my foot when I threw up bile on not only my foot, but also the slug. I killed her. I freaked out because it started to pull it's body up and turn. I watched in horror as it transformed before my eyes. My heart was breaking for this glob and there was nothing I could do for it. The worse part of the entire ordeal is how long it took it to shrivel up. Yes, I said shrivel up. For an entire hour I was stuck in my patio chair watching the death of this innocent thing. I said a prayer for it. Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. One of the grossest things I have ever came across and I prayed for it.

The weird part of this blog is I didn't mean to even write about that slug. I planned on writing about sitting on the back porch at 2 a.m. and hearing my neighbors ocean sounds cd. I know it is the cd because at one time I had that very same cd. I am outside, not even close to their bedroom and I can hear their calming cd. I wondered how loud does that have to be for me to hear it like it was broadcast over an intercom system. Then it hit me....they are very old, they more than likely have hearing aids, and the chance of them not wearing their hearing aids in bed are probably high. What a weird thing to think about. I think about those things....I am always asking others "Is it me......" because I am never sure that others see the things I do.

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN

I have been asked more than once how this mental illness happened to me. I find it quit odd that someone would think that I caught it or something. I have spent a lifetime trying to keep it hid, so that may be the reason some people think I just came down with it. Sorry, I've had it all my life, severities have differed but it has never left me.

I try hard to be patient, yet sometimes my heart is on my shoulders. I don't think people, in general, think they are hurtful by the things they say. Sometimes, though, things are said out of spite, or misunderstanding. Sometimes it is I, who although I hate to admit wrong, take things personal where there wasn't anything actually directed at me. I usually know when that happens I am starting to sink into a depression and I need to get my medications tweeted a bit. I am lucky that I have signs that alert me of my mental state.

People with depression, often times, refuse to be in company. It is a hard thing to get up and entertain the thought of even conversation. I don't deal with depression much and I am thankful that when my body is headed that way my actions are a big indicator. I've known people who have spent years in a depressed state and refused to get the basic of help. It is a most miserable feeling to be helpless to your own body.

I will describe, in words, how depression affects the body. There is a weight that holds you physically down. It is hard to raise your head off of your pillow. It is hard to feel comfortable anywhere you are. The mind tricks you into thinking you are sick. Not some ordinary sickness either. You start having symptoms of deadly diseases and cannot imagine why no one can find anything wrong with you. You get completely offended if the doctors refer you to a psychologist and so you change doctors.

Depression is also the culprit of extreme laziness. You have no energy to do the smallest of tasks. You can become sleep deprived because you are thinking about your situation and not being able to get out of it. Usually, not always, you feel you would be better off dead than a burden on someone else. The problem with depression though is it is usually brought on by triggers, from what the mental health facilities say. I say there is no scapegoat. You can't blame your depression on anyone or anything other than yourself. I know that sounds harsh to say but if you think about it you realize that it is within your brain chemicals that is making you this way. I realize that anytime you lose something or someone, grief sets in and the way you deal with it is personal but it doesn't mean it was the cause of the depression. Any time you go with little sleep, from worries or being scared, that can affect your brain chemicals and thus depression begins.

I don't want anyone to think I have all of the answers. I am just someone who deals with mental illness and wants those who have questions to ask. If I don't know then I am sure someone else will know. Sometimes it just takes someone to listen and tell you how they deal with things. It took me 37 years to understand what was going on with me. It was not talked about because we didn't know anyone who was suffering and I was not about to let others find out I was flawed.

I guess this blog is about stepping back and finding yourself. Whether that is depression or whatever else is running your life instead of you. Mental health is not for pussies. We are soldiers in a fight that some have no idea the war is going on. It feels like it is time to push through the barriers of this disease and let people know that WE are not weak, we cannot keep silent for the sake of making those around us uncomfortable.