I was recently asked to write an article detailing my life with OCD so far, not an easy thing to do by any stretch of the imagination, but stretch it I will. Sure you’d think I would maybe be used to stretching my imagination by now as I was once forced against my utter will to do just such a thing as that and to a point of, I’m afraid to say, no real return and for the grand total of roundabout twenty-two years. See, what OCD did and still seems to do to me is it totally rear-ends my life. In the most spectacular fashion that I can ever explain. This is the sort of experience that I always believed would work best in going inside of a fine Hollywood horror movie. Warts ‘n’ all, everything ‘n’ all – no stones unturned. It made it an impossible fix to have to deal with. And also, it continues to persist at monumentally messing up the flow of my sentences, the structure, making this particular article all the more difficult to land because I do tend to absolutely run off and way into the further-down-the-road parts of the article even without realising it. Please bear with me though because it is worth stating that for me this need not be entirely about how well written this piece is but rather how I get my feelings about it across. I have also said it before and won’t back down in my honest assessment that I would not wish anything near it or the feeling of pain that it brings upon my worst enemy. Anyone’s worst enemy for that matter. I have written about it before, plenty of times in fact and quite succinctly at that too I am sure. I am not a bad writer, and even though nothing ever really ends up appearing to look right or at all well written when it comes to words on a page for me, people should get the chance to understood as best they can. Especially those people and the families of people who have had to deal with this affliction all of their lives. It is so far an increasingly misunderstood affliction which barely gets any credence and I doubt very much that by the time I have come to the final line of this piece I will have managed to shed any further light on OCD’s horrendously messed up world that it gives to its patient. However, I never really took the time before to sit down and edit those pieces that I did write on each of those occasions because, well, editing something, let alone reediting it simply bores the life right from me. Almost even more than the trivialities of OCD do. But no, not quite that bad, nowhere near it, in fact. This will have been to do with the OCD too of course and because, simply put right about now and for people to maybe get to best understand it a little more, or at least for them to try and do so, my mind seems to go at a pace that really doesn’t bear thinking about. But think about it I will, for the sole purpose of slowing that pace and maybe giving even myself the opportunity to get a firmer grasp, handle and understanding regards just what I appear to actually be up against. Nah, it’s too many words, too much time on my hands and frustration in my brain. Maybe another day, I get to try again.