Motivation

Something that made me smile. I was recalling how in July of 2019, just before my transplant, I was sitting in absolute silence on my computer chair, as I am now, staring down my hallway, thinking how I enjoyed my alone time in my cozy apartment, and wondering, what if this is one of the last times I get to do this? What if I go to the hospital and never return, and never again get to enjoy the solace of my apartment, sitting in my computer chair?


And here I am, remembering this, as I am ....sitting in my computer chair staring down the hallway! I felt my face break into a smile when I realized this. I survived!


I feel motivated ❤️

Still afraid of cancer

I feel so fucking selfish saying this during Covid when EVERYONE is in danger, but sometimes I can't stop being afraid of cancer. I am so so so so so so so so so SO grateful to be in remission and to have gotten a life-saving transplant, and then I feel guilt about all those who didn't make it, and I wonder why I'm still alive, but then I think that could all change in an instant anyway (I used to feel guilty all the time before I relapsed), so then I'm scared again instead of feeling guilty, which isn't much better, and it's just a back & forth of ugh. And I was just reading the Facebook of someone who lost their wife to cancer last year and looking at the photos I was immediately reminded of my mother but at the same time, picturing myself in her position and thinking about my own mortality, yet also feeling guilty about being alive while my mom (and other people) aren't, while also missing her deeply. It's just such a mess of complicated feelings that there aren't any words for, except this word salad I just typed out.

The O & C

I feel like clawing my way out of my own brain.

I've just spent an hour sitting with my eyes closed "checking" all my thoughts. (Not that that's anything out of the ordinary.)
After that, in an unrelated event: going to the bathroom to pee took 5 hand washings. (Totally not something out of the ordinary, either.)

Having both the obsession & compulsion components of OCD is not something I thought I'd ever had to deal with. I always only used to have the obsessions. Well, I guess the compulsions part too, though my compulsions were always internal (checking my thoughts, as opposed to external physical things). Now I got the hand-washing and all that external physical crap that I do...so yeah, full-fledged obsessions AND compulsions. The worst of both worlds.

I really wish I could shut my brain off.

Messing with routine

I'm such a ball of anxiety right now. The reason being: specific uncertainty. My lovely neighbours on BOTH sides of me (to the side & upstairs) are moving out for the summer, and both of them have other people subletting.

I don't know these people. I don't know what kind of noise they'll make or if they'll have possibly covid-y friends over or what. I'm thrown out of my routine, and routine is pretty much all I have at a time like this to cling to. It's making my anxiety go from an 8/10 to a 10/10. Not to mention the noise right now as my upstairs neighbour prepares to move out. So much loud noise. I'm on edge, every molecule of my body, every square inch of skin, every hair, is standing on end.

You know this feeling, right? This feeling of your routine being fucked with, especially during a time of high anxiety?
You know this feeling of every little piece of your body quivering with nauseating discomfort?

I've made a little bit of progress with OCD; I don't want to regress now. A few steps forward....let's not step back. Not yet.
I know treatment (or heck, any kind of progress) isn't a straight line, but c'mon, brain, give me a break!

Eeek! Med change!

I had a phone appointment with my therapist today. (Well, he's more of a psych than a therapist.) Anyway, I've finally agreed to change my anti-anxiety meds around for OCD (something I haven't done since 2012!) as the current way I'm living my life is obviously not sustainable (I really hit a low low low yesterday, and that's an understatement). I REALLY didn't want to do this because to change meds, I have to stop one that I'm currently on, which means big-time scary withdrawal. But what better time when I'm home quarantined and not out & about in the world? Plus I have check-ins with him twice a week. It starts on Monday, so we'll see. Fingers crossed and all that!

Exposure that can't be exposed

You can never get over a fear if you always avoid it. The best thing to do is face it. It's the same thing with OCD; one of the first skills I learned 20 years ago in therapy is exposure. You have to force yourself to be around what triggers the obsessive thoughts or compulsions.
For example, I was afraid of handling knives; I was so scared I'd hurt someone. So what did I have to do? Handle knives, of course! Even if it was very scary, it was the only way to face the fear and learn no, I'm not going to randomly hurt someone with a knife. There's no way I'd achieve that solace by avoiding knives my whole life.

I remember, at the time, reading about how people who had compulsions (like washing their hands) would be made to do activities like handling garbage, and then move up to handling garbage and not washing their hands afterwards...etc, etc. Now 20 years later I've become one of them--the hand washers/cleanliness-obsessed--except, I can't use the strategy of exposure by actually handling garbage or avoiding washing my hands, because doing that can actually legitimately cause serious harm to us now.

Soooo I can't expose myself to my current fear because the fear has actually manifested itself into something true. It's pretty fucked-up. And it makes me stuck in a loop.

I've been reading about other people in quarantine's current experiences with OCD, and they've mostly all been saying how terrifying it's been to be in a situation where we suddenly have to do what we've specifically always been trained not to do.
All the sudden we have to listen to our fears and engage in our obsessions, and it's scary as fuck. You can look at it and say "well, we've been training for this our whole lives!" but it's not as simple as that. The OCD takes over and everything falls out of control so fast. You don't get to just be good at cleaning your hands for 20 seconds--you end up cleaning your hands for 50 seconds because during those 20 seconds, you just weren't sure you washed properly, or if you were paying attention correctly, or if you were thinking the right thing as you washed them.
So you wash again,
And again.
And soon that 50 seconds becomes 90 seconds.
And you walk away after but can't be completely sure you washed them right, so you wash your hands again, another 90 seconds or so.
And then you leave the room and absentmindedly turn on the light with your fingers instead of your elbow and go right back into the bathroom and wash your hands for another 90 seconds and now you've just spent over 5 minutes washing your hands straight and this is all because you got up to go to the bathroom.
So now going to the bathroom gives you anxiety, because you know it's probably going to entail all this.

Same goes to say about everything else that requires washing your hands. Gotta wash them before eating, but that's not a 20-second affair. That's easily going to expand into 4 or 5 minutes of nonsense because of some way you didn't do it right or some thought you didn't think just the right way.

You can look at OCD and say hey, I'll make this room very clean! But you're not taking into account how every time you clean something "the wrong way" you'll have to start over.
And how every time you touch something by accident, you'll have to wash that, too.
And whatever touched the thing that touched it by extension.
Where does it end?
You never know when to stop, and I find I've been on the verge of tears almost constantly lately.
Wash it again, and again, and again...and brush up against something and start all over...

And so forth, and so forth...

Anyway, enough rambling. It's been a bad past hour and a half, filled with relentless hand-washing and checking--checking of both physical objects and my repetitive thoughts. I'm both physically and mentally drained. That being said, my therapist sent me some links for some online CBT activities. I'm going to sign up and check them out.

Gratitude VS Panic

Gratitude.

I'm trying so hard to focus on gratitude. (A personal thing, and NOT something I would ever lecture somebody else about doing.)

When I sigh about needing to pee because it means having to wash my hands for the 4th time in the past half-hour, I remember this time last year having to drag a very heavy IV machine along with me in order to do the same thing. No thanks.
I'm grateful to be free of that, to just be me, no cords, no machines, no poles, no IV.

When I feel bored going back & forth between 2 single rooms from morning to night, I remember this time last year spending this time in a rock-hard hospital bed with stiff sheets, in a room that smelled of hospital. I had to put my slippers on every time I left the bed, too.
I'm grateful to be in my own cozy home where I can sit on my cozy sofa or in my cozy bed and feel the cool floor under bare feet & be alone with my husband, and not surrounded by strangers.
As I type this I can hear the train go by. it's cozy.
I'm grateful I can hear the train and the rain from my apartment.
I'm grateful I can open a window (even if I can't really see out of it).

When I feel the suffocating, heart-pounding, obsessive, intrusive, twisted thoughts of OCD burst their way into my head and settle into my stomach like a giant, icy, hard rock, and pinch and bend the tips of my fingers and ankles, and weigh down on my back and shoulders ominously, I don't feel gratitude at all. I feel panic. The type of panic where I plead with my own brain to just stop and let me have some kind of peace so I can go back to appreciating what I have instead of feeling like I'm being attacked and suffocated by my own mind.

I feel like I could just be fine if I could quiet down my mind for even a few days. It's so loud in here, and all of it has been distorted into nonsense.
Nonsense that seems so real.
(What if this time it's real?)

So much gratitude...but too much panic.