R E C O V E R Y. For most, a hopeful word, a word filled with promise, filled with the longing that, some day, your struggles will completely subside and
everything will be back to the way it was. However for me, the word recovery is filled with lies, regret, it makes me sad. The truth is, were never the same.
Whether we recover from something is subjective, and sure having perspective can always help, but some of us just can’t get better.
It started about three years ago: obsessive compulsive disorder, also known as, OCD. No, it doesn’t mean I like things neat. It does not mean I am clean.
No it does not mean I like to keep my shoes neat and sure as hell does not define me as ‘organized’. Ocd; begins with obsessions followed by urges
perpetuated by thoughts and or images that scare you and or make you anxious. You see there is anxiety, but then there is anxiety caused by ocd, which
is like being anxious times 12, while drinking a redbull and chasing it with three shots of espresso.
The anxiety disorder brings your worst fears to light and gives them this false importance in your mind that, through no fault of your own, takes the
steering wheel of your attention. Sure enough, after you have the thoughts and urges, you do everything you can to make them go away and these are
what we call ‘compulsions’. Compulsions are short lived moments of relief. They are ways we can reassure ourselves, one hundred percent, that these
thoughts will not and cannot come true, because we need to be one hundred percent sure these things will not happen, and anything less than that, is just
not good enough.
I'm a 26 year old kid. I know nothing about what really matters yet. I buy cheap chardonnay on my days off. I still think that if I drink a latte I can recover
from staying up all night. My dreams and goals are still my top priority and I believe I can get away with eating that whopper even though I go to the gym.
Uncertainty should be a part of everything that I do. But sometimes, even waking up, terrifies me. I get better, then I get worse, but then I have that really
good week and then I have that one moment of awful urges and obsessions and honestly it makes me feel like my life is over.
You see for me, there is no recovery. I say it at the meetings, and one on ones with my therapist; ocd is chronic, it will never completely go away. Yeah
sure, you learn to cope and realize the thoughts are just thoughts and blah blah blah… But sometimes that’s not enough. Sometimes I want my damn life
back. The hope of ‘recovery’ doesnt make me feel better, it makes me feel worse...