OCD/intrusive thoughts

 

Feb 1, 2022

It’s like being trapped in your own head. The world is moving around you, but your thoughts are so devouring and scattered it’s drowning you. And it doesn’t just stop. You want it to stop.

It’s unwanted and hurtful and terrifying. 

It’s like keeping a running list of every single time you’ve done something, anything wrong and your brain using it as a jagged weapon against you the minute something seems the slightest bit tilted in your atmosphere.

You hurt their feelings, so you’re a terrible person, because here’s a firsthand account of all the other times you’ve done that. You didn’t think before you said that. How could you do that? You obviously don’t care enough. You’re such an idiot. They’re only here because they feel sorry for you. They’re mad at you. Why? Why? Because of that one thing you did “wrong” three weeks ago, duh. But they said it was okay. They lied. And it spirals.

You always mess up.

You’re too sensitive, you’re too much, you’re not enough. Say something! You said too much. Explain it again and again and again until you get it right. You have to. You did it again. You pushed too hard. You’re not listening. Just listen. Listen! 

Stop, stop, please stop.

But it doesn’t.

It’s a girl in a ball on the carpet in her bedroom, clutching her knees to her chest, rocking with each sob because it’s too loud in her head. Nothing makes sense. It’s like trying to see through mud. It’s so thick, it’s so murky, it’s so heavy. She can’t think. It’s like seeing the rational, clear, true picture that they’re telling you is there but it’s slashed and cut and stabbed by the impractical, the illogical, the lies. Like cement, or super glue has been poured into your brain, forcing it to lock.

It’s that same girl pacing around the living room, alternating between wringing her hands and flapping them because the sheer weight of the pressure building in her body from the racing beratement in her head makes her feel like she’s about to combust. 

It’s hiding in the shower with the water hot and the music loud or under the covers with her face buried in the pillow so no one can hear her cry.

It’s countless nights of no sleep because of the repetitive cycling of every moment that she messed up, every person she wronged, every time she made it harder for someone else. Every mistake she made.

You messed up. You always mess up. You’re the problem. You’re always the problem. You’re not good enough. You’re not enough. You’re not. 

She can’t breathe, she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe.

Oh God, just stop! Please, stop!

But it won’t, it won’t, it won’t.

Because the toothpaste was out of place and it made her skin feel like it was being pricked by tacks.

And she was late and they were waiting on her and now they’re going to hate her because she didn’t stick to her word and if she doesn’t stick to her word then she’s not reliable and if she’s not reliable then nobody will need her and if she’s not needed then what’s the point of existing?

And the wrong light was on in the shower, so now her routine is thrown off and it’s all your fault because you turned it on! But it’s not! Because she didn’t tell you. And if she didn’t tell you, how could you know?

It’s thinking she should hurt herself, because she hurt you, and she deserves to hurt more.

It’s debilitating, consuming, like being eaten alive from the inside out. And it doesn’t end, because it’s her own brain attacking her.

She doesn’t deserve you. She doesn’t deserve them. Because all she does is hide. 

And bury. 

And push. 

All she does is make it harder.

And God, it’s so exhausting.