❤️

I love to write. Have done so since maybe… 2011, when I came out of St. Pat’s Mental Health Hospital in Dublin. And I’ve chased it, the scribbles, hard and heavy, and happy as I can get with this particular obsession. A good and logical obsession, are the scribbles. One million percent. But I’ve news for people. While OCD is pain-filled and outrageously often-times impossible to live any kind of a life with, it is also a fight each sufferer of this mental illness needs to make their own. Each story will be outlandishly different, each story our very own, as I say. I personally try and make my particular story as filled with love and excitement and happiness and as often as I can. With OCD this can be so, so damn hard it really is… well, indescribable. But last time I checked I don’t think anyone has ever been able to see, let alone feel, another person’s pain on a mental level. So I kinda have to just let people decide for themselves how they might support me or otherwise with my OCD. All of the scribbles to date have been done with utter love and care and nurturing it all. I’ve built a back-catalogue which I am hugely proud of, hugely in awe of, even, sometimes, if I’m being honest. Not the style or anything like that, really, is what I’m getting at there. More-so the… level of persistence it has taken for me to even at times pick-up a phone and write anything on it. Maybe I’m the least likely writer out there, in terms of not really having any interest whatsoever in the subject or subject matter except for when I get myself back to scribbling. On my own. Fast and, I suppose you could say, furiously. Curiously, too. Fuck, am I the most curious mother fucker in this country or what!! I think I have to do something else with the OCD, and then I realise… “wait, I have been doing just that thing… and that thing… annnnnd THAT thing!” Basically we, as sufferers, do everything a human mind surely can to, let’s say, get ourselves out of this mental hellhole. And it is just that thing: a mental hellhole which no-one will ever comprehend, when it comes to its level of utter mental anguish and fear and fatigue, etc. etc. Except of course for a sufferer. But we don’t wave the white flag. Not. A. Chance.
And why? I can’t say anything for anyone else, of course, with this illness but what I can say is that… I’m OKAY with having OCD, it’s all that I know, all I’ve ever really known. That’s fine. That’s… a gift, even, in terms of it at least teaching me how to think with utter care and utter passion, and to just be as good a person as I can be. That isn’t supposed to be simple, I don’t think. Minding the dogs ‘til Friday for Phil and Aoife, as I mentioned before. In good form, the boys. Happy out on their walks and eating away… at this stage I dunno how much of Rocko’s food Joey ends up eating 🙄 I’m eating well, haven’t yet gone for a run but to be fair I walk EVERYWHERE anyway, but I do love the running so just to get right back into that, really. Do I miss the soccer evenings? Nope, because it’s too much for my mind to take when it gets caught up in all those people. I’m fine with that, too. I’m fine with it all, from start to finish. But I do have this thing, this chronic thing happening to me. I’ve all the support in the world that I could have hoped and wished for, all of the right people in place. I even have many days lately, much more than ever before, really, where my mind can see how natural it might be for someone to take a job somewhere and just, well, get on with thing and go with it. That’s success, for an OCD sufferer’s mind. It truly means that we can, let’s say, see the light. See how it perhaps should be for our minds. In this instance, what I mean by that is that our brain is learning to work with us instead of automatically against us, owing to the OCD. This won’t be easy, never has been easy, but I do have to make it… much more… shall we say, LESS harrowing on my mind. Less impactful in a negative way on my thoughts, etc. I said it to Mom and I’ll never not say it. I’m the happiest man with a mental illness going. That’s what I have worked incredibly hard for, that’s the truest truth out there right now for me. So, yeah, watching Break Point on Netflix tonight and watched loads of Money Heist this week already. Amazing show. Was I built to live with OCD? Nope, certainly not! Nobody is. But I feel that I was definitely built to work it out eventually for myself and for many, many, many more people out there going forward. I’ll hang my mast to that. I’ll hang it to anything that I can do to make this thing easier for future generations. I’m not angry. I’m… courageous. And I’m sure as hell gonna live the best life I can, as per 😊