It is this out-and-out element of a person’s most natural and far-reaching feelings turned themselves excruciatingly toward utter apprehension. Yeah… that might be a decent and, what’s more, apt enough way to start to try and begin to attempt at explaining my particular chokehold called ‘PURE’ OCD.
‘Atrocious’ really would be a suitable and substantial word to apply to the particular case of my mind-frazzling OCD. Indeed, that word along with a hundred other headily synonymised words shall need to be used for all of their lively worth. I.e. when pushed against their strongest and most descriptive synonym in the dictionary and utterly utilised to the nth degree of their being.
However… right this minute, I still have to also remember to remind myself to wholeheartedly thank my mind too for somehow, Christ knows how! being able to forget the whole debacle to an important extent going forward with my life away from OCD’s chokehold extraordinaire. Especially seeing as it lasted for over two decades; that is TWENTY-YEARS – twenty-years of pummeling, never-ending, relentless and ongoing agony of the fluster-fucked mind and, what’s more, taken to a paralysing point of inexplicable over-analysis.
I’m afraid to admit that basically NONE of these heady descriptions via word-use can ever truly, wholly, honest-to-goodness, hand-upon-their-heart succeed in actually capably portraying the total level of the incessant shutdown and, what’s more, the simultaneously sprinting brain-battle to settle a seemingly seen-to-be, oft-than-not uncontrollable deluge of intrusive thoughts. These sprinting, whirring, washing machine-paced thoughts cannot be the same for everyone, of course, they cannot. And to this very day honestly, I have no real clue on earth how the hell MY particular intrusive thoughts got themselves to managing to have such a ferocious and cutthroat chokehold over my mind in becoming what they vitriolically ‘chose’ to become by the end of their tether.
It would, perhaps, have to be an expletive-laden article that will need to be oneday written and not by a goddamn doctor either but, rather, the actual sufferer in question. To comfortably manage at somehow attempting to help other people who have been unwittingly placed at the exact same excruciating point of critically-enhanced positioning by their very own brain. No two ways about it- this is sink or swim territory. And, what is more, oft-than-not it is literally impossible to convince the strength of the disorder to swim in any way upwards. Yes… … for sure your addled mind does in fact mightily mind. However… your whirring, painstakingly debilitated brain sure-as-shit will have taken itself off on another washing-machine-paced tangent altogether.
You disappear from the trueness sense of yourself, your life and the beloved people in your life and, yet, you are still there, still immediately right here, and still, still… STILL standing tall and watching it all happen and crumble agonisingly around your very own agonised eyes. Holy Fuck, indeed.