The truth with the OCD imbalance is that it totally masks over your truest mindset in ways that really cannot be explained. The sufferer has been taken to a level of imbalanced fear for all of their life which makes it even more difficult for them to understand and even accept on a mental level, as they get better, that it’s totally normal not to have these nonstop anxieties, and that makes it so, so outrageously hard to not only realise for us but to also get to know when, then, should we actually be worried, given over to the fact that our brains have been inbuilt as petrified all of the time and for so very long. This is always the imbalance winning-out, or trying to, of its own accord. So, really, even if the brain is undoubtedly getting better and better, perhaps, and the sufferer will feel and know such a thing to a reasonable extent, the sufferer also doesn’t really get to yet know if they are allowed to be… not-anxious. I know this will only ever end-up making some kind of nonsensical sense, let’s say, to anyone else outside of a sufferer’s grasp of the disorder, even though it’s the only way forward with this mental disorder and to live with it well and as close to rebalanced, let’s say, as we can ever possibly get. Basically, it’s a joke from start to finish, and if anyone wonders “what are they doing with all that spare time?”, what we will most probably, often times even definitely, be doing is trying to make sense of the illogic happening and on such a sickeningly nonstop and visceral level inside of our own brains as if it’s actually happening in that moment, this only ever, as proven with every time we are, well, caught in its grasp again, doing.. just that. Catching our brains in its grasp and wreaking unmatched havoc of the mind. This gets to a stage where I am just writing myself into a corner, even. I mean, how many ways can someone with a mental illness go about describing that particular illness? It’s regurgitation for me, even though the imbalance can start all over again at the drop of a hat and make me feel as if I have to explain it all over again. To my parents mainly, because they’re the ones who see me the most having to live with it – watching it leave me the way it does end-up leaving me. It’s pervertedly the most unjust mental illness, I’d have to say, and if any sufferer of anything deserves to finally allay an imbalance then it’s us OCD sufferers. Because the work our brains end-up forcing themselves to do is up there with any of the most exhausting and tiresome, around-the-clock jobs in the world. Just with no positive outcome. And if I have in a very real way, and for the largest part, managed to kinda lose my brain with this thing, then I’ve been doing the most miraculous job at not only staying afloat in trying to recover time and time again but also trying to finally be okay with having my OCD imbalance outright. I just wish I could think, I guess, like I write about it here because… yeah, that’s how unfair and mind-pummelling this disorder is. There’s no end part with our thoughts. So, yeah, the sufferer is, in large part, sending themselves insane in many ways and over and over again. Insane is the wrong world. Perhaps… look, I don’t know what to say about it anymore.