I want to be better – a better me, a better mother, a better friend. Be Better has always been my motto. I like that open ended drive to growth. Apparently that is all that is wrong with my mental state.
In the past 12 months I have taken notice of my slipping mental state. I notice my anxiety around the everyday. I notice my aversion to germs and touching. I notice my sour state. Things that always seemed to be manageable stopped being manageable. I started to notice how much my ‘craziness’ was affecting my day to day adventures.
Being aware is a gift; aware there is a problem, aware that it is affecting me and those close to me, aware that there is help available to me.
It is my ability to be aware that allows me to find help.
That is strength, even if I doubt typing that. It doesn’t feel strong to admit to a weakness. It doesn’t feel strong to ask for help, but it is.
So in September I went to someone to talk about all of it, its taboo and I hid it from my friends. I attended sessions with a psychotherapist, calling them ‘Book Club’. Book Club taught me about myself, that I was naturally hard on myself and that I was doing ok. I still don’t believe it.
My mind is divided, the logical rational Melanie that knows things are good, I am ok-- and the paranoid little girl that reminds me constantly of what I am doing wrong or what could go wrong. This alone has prevented freedom and spontaneity, adding stress to my relationships.
They argue. Some days logic wins, most days it doesn’t.
This constant dialogue fills my head 24 hours a day, leaving no time to live in the moment, no time to enjoy and plenty of anxiety to fill the gaps.
I thought ignorance was bliss; I ignored signs and tried to fix it myself, with a deep seeded fear in losing my mind.
Now, why am I writing this post? Better, why am I finally sharing this post? It feels like the right day, when everyone is a little softer. A little more understanding.
My name is Melanie and I have high-functioning OCD.