They said it would take a level of focus and concentration to fix myself – my brain. I only didn’t believe them because it wouldn’t let me – my brain, I mean. Couldn’t let me. Never. Not for over twenty-two-years, so of course that mindset has affected me severely, and that can often-times be genuinely gutting. Because I feel stuff that I don’t want to feel, I feel it when I decide not to always look up at someone I hardly know in the street. The hardest part is this, that I am sincerely still trying to figure out who I am. And neither do I mean that in the wishy-washy manner to which most people apply the term. I mean that, essentially, I never got to learn about myself and how I might like to be as a person whilst I was growing up, I was THAT unfashionably snowed-under and mentally paralysed by my particular OCD. And yes, it frightens me many a time if it happens that I do get caught-up once more and the right people like before aren’t around to understand and stay with me and hold my hand through it. Because the last hand-hold took twenty-two-years. I wish I wasn’t in other people’s mind half the time. And I also love being in my own mind. But I also know that I have to keep fighting this by being ridiculously good to myself. I’m just worried that my OCD will never get understood enough for people to know just what I have to deal with and when it is particularly trying for me.