The process of understanding my OCD

Oi people! Yes, it is I. Okay, that was probably the worst attempt of having a funny opening to a blogpost ever. Period. Anyway lads and lassies, I’m back. Sort of. Kind of. Not really. For some reason, blogging hasn’t been easy lately and it’s really frustrating to be honest. I tried to think of blogging non-mental health related, but that was just an impossible task I found out. So here’s me talking a bit of something that has grown into my life the last weeks: OCD.

So as most of you might know, I suffer from mental health issues. Mental illnesses. If not I suggest you read some of those posts, to give you a general idea about how I felt and still feel to this day. I’ve been diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Severe Depression and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Those are facts. But somehow, being diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder made me the most confused of all.

When being diagnosed I was really in a shock. I mean I was shocked when being diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder and Depression earlier, but I sort of expected that. D’ya know what I mean? But with OCD it was completely different. I obviously knew about it and had read some blogs on it, met some people online who suffered or suffer with OCD. But never did I feel like I could identify with the symptoms or feelings I had envisioned with being OCD. (Okay fam, is it ‘having OCD’ or ‘being OCD’?)

I’m going to talk a bit about my OCD and what it means from me, from day to day. I know little about OCD compared to Anxiety Disorder and depression. Also I suppose there are people out there who know more about OCD, but I’m going to try to describe what it means for me personally.

Right, I was diagnosed with three forms of OCD. So they told me I was suffering from Checking, Touching and Intrusive Thoughts OCD. Bear in mind guys, I had no clue what these diagnoses meant or what it did mean for. To be honest I knew about contamination, but other than that I was completely clueless. I read a lot about it and started to write down what I did experience what could have an effect on me.

So having obsessions or obsessive thoughts about certain things make you very anxious and it makes you perform certain rituals or also named compulsions. So in my case, the OCD can be divided into three different groups or categories:

  • Checking OCD: The need to check is the compulsion, the obsessive thoughts of fear are in my case the worry of my house getting robbed, getting on fire or people getting hurt when I don’t check the locks, close the doors and make sure everything is cleared of the walking path. I do check my stuff for uni multiple times. I check my wallet for my card. I check my bike. I check clothes. The number is 8. I check everything 8 times.
  • Touching OCD: This was explained to me as the obsessive fear of situations going wrong if I didn’t act on it. The compulsion being to touch certain objects. In my case my cross in my bedroom. My little bracelet. My watch. The side of my laptop. And yes, the magical number is 8. 
  • Intrusive thoughts OCD: This was a bit of difficult thing to understand. I have thoughts about doing bad things whilst being at church. I have thoughts of my friends being in danger a lot. 
I’ll be honest, I know too little about this subject to properly discuss it all right now. I hope I can tell more about it in the weeks to come. But I do know it scares the living crap out of me. I notice my compulsions getting more frequent and more intense. I know I’m more anxious and as a consequence of that, my compulsions are getting worse.

I’m so scared, because I notice my body and mind changing. The OCD is worse and I feel like it worsens every week. Like it adds more shit to my depression and anxiety disorder. I don’t know what to do. I think this blogpost hasn’t made sense, but I owe it to you all, my lovely friends. I’m still here and I’m fighting, determined to battle this all.

Hope you enjoyed reading this. Do you suffer from a mental illness? Or do you want to talk about it? Always here for you!

Marc

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Under Milk Wood.

Motivation. It’s a thing I’ve been lacking for months now, but that doesn’t mean I should just give up, now is it? So I decided to put some effort in. Looking for things that would make a tad more productive, inspired or motivated. AND GUESS WHAT FAM. I’ve bloody found it. Get yourself a cup of tea – I know I’m currently enjoying Yorkshire Tea – and just drown yourself in the wonderful world that is ‘Under Milk Wood’

This blogpost is of great significance to both me, my interests and my blog in general. So pay attention my good my countrymen (Well not really, but I just liked this Shakespeare reference), this is going to be quite a read. Okay. Stop Marc. Getting cocky and overconfident. Fuck sake.

I love poetry. I don’t know, but it just gives me a good feeling. Reading it. Writing it. Comparing it. Sharing it. Discussing it. It’s just awesome and I think it’s pretty great that we can play with worlds like poets do. It’s so creative and inspiring in my opinion.

Obviously there are many poets on this world, both in history as contemporary poets. But one of my favourites right now – and for the past few months – is the Welsh poet (Obviously it’s got to be Welsh, I’m a bit obsessed with Welshmen at the moment) Dylan Thomas.

I love the poems by Dylan Thomas, but there is one particular work from Thomas that has got me inspired and motivated. ‘Under Milk Wood’ is a radio drama from 1954, commissioned by the BBC and written by Dylan Thomas. I’m really obsessed with it. The first I heard about it was rather unconventional. I heard it on the documentary of Swansea City FC; From Jack to a King.

My blog is called after the little town in Under Milk Wood, Llareggub. This is Bugger All spelled backwards and there is where my inspiration comes from. Today I just wanted to share with you the beginning of that radio drama, let the words flow from your tongue and feel how they enter the world.

To begin at the beginning:
It is Spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobblestreets silent and the hunched, courters’-and- rabbits’ wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea. The houses are blind as moles (though moles see fine to-night in the snouting, velvet dingles) or blind as Captain Cat there in the muffled middle by the pump and the town clock, the shops in mourning, the Welfare Hall in widows’ weeds. And all the people of the lulled and dumbfound town are sleeping now. 

Hush, the babies are sleeping, the farmers, the fishers, the tradesmen and pensioners, cobbler, schoolteacher, postman and publican, the undertaker and the fancy woman, drunkard, dressmaker, preacher, policeman, the webfoot cocklewomen and the tidy wives. Young girls lie bedded soft or glide in their dreams, with rings and trousseaux, bridesmaided by glow-worms down the aisles of the organplaying wood. The boys are dreaming wicked or of the bucking ranches of the night and the jollyrogered sea. And the anthracite statues of the horses sleep in the fields, and the cows in the byres, and the dogs in the wet-nosed yards; and the cats nap in the slant corners or lope sly, streaking and needling, on the one cloud of the roofs. 

You can hear the dew falling, and the hushed town breathing.
Only your eyes are unclosed to see the black and folded town fast, and slow, asleep.
And you alone can hear the invisible starfall, the darkest-before- dawn minutely dewgrazed stir of the black, dab-filled sea where the Arethusa, the Curlew and the Skylark, Zanzibar, Rhiannon, the Rover, the Cormorant, and the Star of Wales tilt and ride. 

Listen. It is night moving in the streets, the processional salt slow musical wind in Coronation Street and Cockle Row, it is the grass growing on Llareggub Hill, dewfall, starfall, the sleep of birds in Milk Wood. 

Listen. It is night in the chill, squat chapel, hymning in bonnet and brooch and bombazine black, butterfly choker and bootlace bow, coughing like nannygoats, suckling mintoes, fortywinking hallelujah; night in the four-ale, quiet as a domino; in Ocky Milkman’s lofts like a mouse with gloves; in Dai Bread’s bakery flying like black flour. It is to-night in Donkey Street, trotting silent, with seaweed on its hooves, along the cockled cobbles, past curtained fernpot, text and trinket, harmonium, holy dresser, watercolours done by hand, china dog and rosy tin teacaddy. It is night neddying among the snuggeries of babies. 

Look. It is night, dumbly, royally winding though the Coronation cherry trees; going through the graveyard of Bethesda with winds gloved and folded, and dew doffed; tumbling by the Sailors Arms.
Time passes. Listen. Time passes.
Come closer now. 

Only you can hear the houses sleeping in the streets in the slow deep salt and silent black, bandaged night. Only you can see in the blinded bedrooms, the combs and petticoats over the chairs, the jugs and basins, the glasses of teeth, Thou Shalt Not on the wall, and the yellowing, dickybird-watching pictures of the dead. Only you can hear and see, behind the eyes of the sleepers, the movements and countries and mazes and colours and dismays and rainbows and tunes and wishes and flight and fall and despairs and big seas of their dreams. 

From where you are, you can hear their dreams.

You can listen to this part of Under Milk Wood on Youtube:

This really inspires me everyday. I don’t exactly know why, but it does. I hope it gives you some inspiration too. Please let me know what you think of his work!
Marc

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Smile my friends, you deserve it

Friends, mates, buds, pals and brilliant people who do follow my blog. I’m not quite back yet, but this is a little post about a thing that is very important to me. A thing I need to share with you, a thing that is relevant and good to know. It’s why I can be sad and still be incredibly supportive and kind for my friends
I’ve been called the most kind and supportive blogger a lot recently. I don’t think that is actually true, but I will say this. I try to be. I want people to feel good about themselves, I want them to feel confident, because they deserve that. I want people to know I’m here for them, that their blog is awesome and their existence on this world is relevant.

I want people to feel the love. I want people to know that many others admire them. That people are an inspiration to others and that this world would crumble without your input into this brilliant community.

That is why I share love. Not for my own gain or following. FAM I ONLY HAVE 700+ FOLLOWERS. No, I genuinely want people to be admired for what they do. I want people to be acknowledged, celebrated for their great achievements and overcoming struggles. I will keep on doing this and doing MASSIVE #FF on Fridays.

Yes, I’m positive about my fellow bloggers and tweeters. Yes I still wrestle with my anxiety, ocd and depression every single day I live on this planet. Yes, I’m incredibly sad and see no motivation at the moment for anything. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you people.

“I think the saddest people always try their best to make people happy, because they know what it feels like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.” – Robin Williams

I think this quote says it all. I love you.


Marc
Volg:

“You are not winning Pete.”

So I haven’t been blogging for a while. Some would debate that first sentence, but for me personally it feels like I’ve been lacking a bit. It frustrates me. I annoys me and I’m really angry with myself for not putting up content.
Obviously I know, I should only put content up when I have content. Not posting content that is rubbish for the sake of posting content, d’ya know what I mean? But the main reason for me ‘lacking’ is that my mental health has really taken a turn for the worse. I guess it’s not changed much since my last posts, but it did really took away my motivation, inspiration and productivity to write. Fam, that is really killing me.

I’m not really sure what this blogpost is meant to be. I’ve been told it can help if you distance yourself from your mental illnesses, in my case Anxiety Disorder, Depression and OCD. So here’s me trying that and trying to write a motivational and inspiring letter. A letter to Pete, my mental illnesses personified:

“Dear Pete,

I’ve met you a good 6 months ago, but still I have this recurring feeling that we have known each other our whole lives. It’s like you were always there with me, especially the bad times. But I must confess, lately I feel like our relationship is getting worse and worse. I feel like you are toxic.

You are selfish and jealous. Making my friends leave, estrange me from my family and you are draining me. It’s as if you have drugged all these years and slowly corrupted not only my mind, but also my soul. Made me like I was worthless, more and more. Made me feel like I didn’t matter in this world, make this world different from others, so I would be scared of anything. Putting these horrible, paining, torturing thoughts and feelings into my head. Feeling as if the world and my life would crumble, piece my piece. Day by day. Year by year. Make me check everything. Make me touch things even ways.

And guess what? You bloody succeeded. You fucked me up. Proper fucked me up. Now I’m taking therapy and counseling. I’m having to take medication. all because of you. I realised it was you all along, but I don’t blame you. It’s just how you are. 

Standing on the shoulders of giants they said. Well I’m standing on the shoulders of Hades, the god of the underworld. Everytime I think I’m getting close to earth, to life as it was, you pull me back down a few miles. Leaving me to start all over again. Everytime I feel I’m doing better, you make sure I’m doing the worst I ever felt.

It’s exhausting and sometimes it leaves me to give up. Give up on life. I try so hard to get rid of you, but you are still here. You always be here. It would be awesome to cut me some slack, just take a holiday, find someone else to bother. But I know this isn’t true, I know you are here to stay.

Recently you put the thoughts of darkness, death and sorrow into my mind. Forcing me to isolate myself from my loved ones. I’ve had enough and I pledge to destroy you. It will be a fight, every day. A hard one. Fist to fist. I will certainly lose many battles, but in the end I will win the war. I have love to give to everyone, you have only hate. My smile will come above and corrupt your hating soul.

Marc.”

Marc

Volg:

A star, a sun, a diamond

No matter how big the struggle
No matter how deep your lows

You are as strong as rocks
Your love for things does cut all badness
You are the sun in the darkness
When you will grow into this star you are destined to be
All problems will perish, like snow in front of the sun
When you make the choice to shine again
the clouds will vaporize and
You will shine like a star, a sun, a diamond

Marc

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