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With the ocd I think the actual damage over time to my particular brain has been quite… resounding. I know that at its very worst ocd is unliveable in a mental sense. That pain of brain and mind, etc. Whereas, ocd at a different level of mental anguish, ie. right now and for me, is still extremely stifling and paralysing and obviously problematical, too. Mine is automatic. The inbuilt fear, the false firing of “WHAT THE FUUUUUCK IS WRONG HERE??!” Making me believe entirely that something is gonna go catastrophically wrong if I DO NOT FIGURE OUT WHAT IS ACTUALLY WRONG. The extra problem for the sufferer, maybe even the real TwIsTUP in it all for their AddLeD mind – myself included – is that your actual thinking-process IS actually distorted in and of itself. Heavily stuck in a mental place, a fear-filled groove, of… utter, unending fear. To bring it down/back(??) to something resembling a normal, unperturbed brain you’ve to TOTALLY let it be there, it really appears to be THE ONLY WAY forward for a sufferer, right this minute in mental health understandings and progression with any kind of sizeable cure, however impossible that can turn out to be, to feel, in my ocd instance anyhow. Why, then, does it feel wholly incorrect to just let it be there, for the sufferer? I’m sure anyone without ocd would ask just that thing and rightly so, of course. I mean, I’ve been asked it a billion and one times myself. I’ve even asked it of myself 🤷‍♂️ I’m always, always ready for that question. All the questions. Well, it’s (not too simply) because… their brain HAS been taken to task against its every utter will and left dangerously imbalanced. It’s a living nightmare, there really are no two ways about that. I mean, I’m a happy and caring and perhaps perfectly logical fella, or at least as logical as anyone needs to be… besides the whole ocd story 😬 and I do love my life… even with the ocd(?!) That takes… phew(..) something else altogether. Any sufferer will attest to it being extremely impossible for themselves most of the time, though. But… it’s a nightmare of mind that REALLY shouldn’t be there in the first place, in terms of the kind of knife-edged mental anguish and suffering which a sufferer is forced by their own mis-workings of the brain to go through whilst they also seem to be the only people in the whole debacle happening around them who CANNOT mentally understand nor comprehend that they are wasting their UTTER time trying to figure out a false firing of anxiety. But it’s also the strength and depth of this particular imbalance. The falsified storyline it teaches your brain to interpret and believe is correct. As a sufferer I have to say that all ocd sufferers NEED to be understood as best they can be and cherished and looked after. They will do ALL THAT THEY CAN not to have to be dependent on anyone else, and to even repay anyone who has helped them and in ANY WHICH WAY and at any time. Trust me on that and a thousand times over, actually. But… perhaps, just sometimes maybe certain things are too glaringly penetrative for a person to have to deal with all on their own 🤷‍♂️ It’s just the utter unblemished truth of the matter for me. Because getting ‘lost’ as an ocd sufferer really is like no other mental disorder out there that I can imagine, or have even read about. Being told by a sufferer of mild schizophrenia that “you got dealt a shit card with that whole ocd thing, mate.” kinda says it all really. As I say, I’m not angry, I’m not anything about it. It’s what it is, but what it isn’t is… any sort of a real representation of a person 👍 I’d back myself a million times over. Even with the ocd pissing in my particular wind 😆 Sure that’s pretty much precisely where the scribbles came from, that dig-deep beneath it all, and as for a rather compassionate comparison – ocd is about as real in its belief-system for any misguided sufferer as my utterly fictional poems are factual. Obviously, none of my poems are fact, really. The only actually fact in them is that they are made-up, rhythmic stories for anyone to read that likes to read 😃 And, as it turns out, I am addicted to writing them. So addicted and on auto-pilot with it that it really does kinda beggar believe, even for me. Dunno how good or what they are (that’s bollix. I know what I got here) but I do know one thing… that I will never stop on both scores – with the scribbles and with managing to live comfortably with my ocd 💓 When you do not particularly have a choice in how something might workout, that’s exactly when you make the whole thing one mother~effing helluva beautiful dAnCE as best ya can. Now, that’s me being poetic, and it’s definitely me being… me.