Whilst waiting for photobucket to accept the bukkake of party pictures,
I shall regale you with my moods as of late.
I was reading an internet acquaintance's blog the other day. It was full of much useful information regarding OCD. I had always assumed it was just repetitive checking/cleaning/organizing, but he posted sort of complete definition of what having OCD can consist of, and I actually fit the bill. He mentions "aggressive or horrific impulses" and I wonder if that would cover the anger and anxiety I've been riddled with for as long as I can remember. It starts off normally enough, but then I keep harping on it and I play out scenarios in my brain that I would never burden anyone else with the knowledge of. There's also a big part of me that thinks that if I think them, that means they won't happen, and if I tell them they won't happen. Although sometimes I'm just under the impression if I mention them out loud it means the possibility of it happening has come into existence.
There are a few other things he mentions that stuck out to me:
-Images of hurting your child-
I don't want you to think I go around imagining I'm pummeling on Dexter's little bean of a nose. I'm drowning in a sea of images of Dex getting hurt somehow constantly flooding my brain. I have to work to stop them, or they keep coming. If it's not a multitude of images, it's one long scenario getting worse and worse. There's plenty of times I have to snap myself out of it by shaking my hand or digging my thumb nail into the palm of the opposite hand. I'm surprised no one has commented on what looks like Tourettes' tics. Then again, I live with a man who could spend 30 minutes giving a guy with a cleft lip directions and if you referred to Cleft Lip Guy as Cleft-Lip Guy, he'd be like "Who?"
-Skin lesions because of picking at the skin-
Seriously, I look like a goddamn methhead.
"Imagine feeling like the whole world is going to end if you don’t do things a specific way. Imagine that your life and everyone’s around you hinges on your doing everything in a certain order. Imagine that everything you know: your reality, your life, strangers’ lives, the universe itself is all going to start falling apart if you don’t wash your hands a certain number of times, if you don’t re-read a list seven times, if you don’t count each step in a stairwell. Imagine the integrity of the very fabric of space and time depend on how long you can keep your leg bouncing up and down at an ungodly rate of speed while you’re sitting in a chair.
That should give you a pretty good idea."
I still lift my legs off the car floor when I am going over railroad tracks, because someone told me once it was good luck to do so, and when I stopped doing it my cat got the cancer that ultimately killed him. There are times tending to Dex has distracted me, and I don't get the seconds of dread that I used to. I wish I could have the compulsion to count calories, or keep things orderly. Nope. I just sit for hours in front of a mirror picking at my face until all the bumps are gone. I have a rush of images of my son dying violently or getting hurt beyond repair.
His party was a raging success and I was fighting back tears at the outpouring of friends and love we had on that day. A lot of people I haven't seen in awhile came by. A lot of people got my son thoughtful gifts that he already loves.
A year ago I was on my second night home with the little guy. Steve was around to help, not that he was much when Dex woke up in the night. :D I didn't mind. It was just nice having my family together. I miss those days, when I could snuggle up with Dex on the futon and he'd just fall right back to sleep. I miss being able to scoop him up and cradle him in one arm. I am excited for the next chapter, and the walking, running, and vocabulary to come.
Soon we shall be in our place. Soon I will be able to clean. Once Steve actually lets me get something done. Stupid TV shows starting again. I want to watch them sooo bad but I need to pack and paint.
I was reading an internet acquaintance's blog the other day. It was full of much useful information regarding OCD. I had always assumed it was just repetitive checking/cleaning/organizing, but he posted sort of complete definition of what having OCD can consist of, and I actually fit the bill. He mentions "aggressive or horrific impulses" and I wonder if that would cover the anger and anxiety I've been riddled with for as long as I can remember. It starts off normally enough, but then I keep harping on it and I play out scenarios in my brain that I would never burden anyone else with the knowledge of. There's also a big part of me that thinks that if I think them, that means they won't happen, and if I tell them they won't happen. Although sometimes I'm just under the impression if I mention them out loud it means the possibility of it happening has come into existence.
There are a few other things he mentions that stuck out to me:
-Images of hurting your child-
I don't want you to think I go around imagining I'm pummeling on Dexter's little bean of a nose. I'm drowning in a sea of images of Dex getting hurt somehow constantly flooding my brain. I have to work to stop them, or they keep coming. If it's not a multitude of images, it's one long scenario getting worse and worse. There's plenty of times I have to snap myself out of it by shaking my hand or digging my thumb nail into the palm of the opposite hand. I'm surprised no one has commented on what looks like Tourettes' tics. Then again, I live with a man who could spend 30 minutes giving a guy with a cleft lip directions and if you referred to Cleft Lip Guy as Cleft-Lip Guy, he'd be like "Who?"
-Skin lesions because of picking at the skin-
Seriously, I look like a goddamn methhead.
"Imagine feeling like the whole world is going to end if you don’t do things a specific way. Imagine that your life and everyone’s around you hinges on your doing everything in a certain order. Imagine that everything you know: your reality, your life, strangers’ lives, the universe itself is all going to start falling apart if you don’t wash your hands a certain number of times, if you don’t re-read a list seven times, if you don’t count each step in a stairwell. Imagine the integrity of the very fabric of space and time depend on how long you can keep your leg bouncing up and down at an ungodly rate of speed while you’re sitting in a chair.
That should give you a pretty good idea."
I still lift my legs off the car floor when I am going over railroad tracks, because someone told me once it was good luck to do so, and when I stopped doing it my cat got the cancer that ultimately killed him. There are times tending to Dex has distracted me, and I don't get the seconds of dread that I used to. I wish I could have the compulsion to count calories, or keep things orderly. Nope. I just sit for hours in front of a mirror picking at my face until all the bumps are gone. I have a rush of images of my son dying violently or getting hurt beyond repair.
His party was a raging success and I was fighting back tears at the outpouring of friends and love we had on that day. A lot of people I haven't seen in awhile came by. A lot of people got my son thoughtful gifts that he already loves.
A year ago I was on my second night home with the little guy. Steve was around to help, not that he was much when Dex woke up in the night. :D I didn't mind. It was just nice having my family together. I miss those days, when I could snuggle up with Dex on the futon and he'd just fall right back to sleep. I miss being able to scoop him up and cradle him in one arm. I am excited for the next chapter, and the walking, running, and vocabulary to come.
Soon we shall be in our place. Soon I will be able to clean. Once Steve actually lets me get something done. Stupid TV shows starting again. I want to watch them sooo bad but I need to pack and paint.