There’s a story in there. For sure there is! How couldn’t there ever be. The ocd. The utter imbalance, the atrocious nature of what it does to a person’s mind. You know what you are tasked with and you go with that. It’s exactly like giving someone a brain that is UTTERLY ALL OVER THE PLACE and steeped in a level of anxiety so very excruciating and constant, and expecting that same person to try and sit with the discombobulation until it comes back to some semblance of normalcy. But it isn’t a normal brain, so how is that ever even achieved? Hmm… . I suppose by… just living with that imbalance and medicating it and meditating, etc. and KNOWING ABOVE ANYTHING ELSE, that it has to be left entirely alone. That’s the deal, the depth of the cards a sufferer gets dealt when it comes to ocd. How did the scribbles take any sort of shape and form for me? By going at it ever since I came home from Dublin about… hmm, 11 years ago?! By doing it when NO part of my brain would let me do ANYTHING except to crawl immediately back under my duvet and ruminate until my brain AND mind were totally frazzled all the more. Until everything was a trigger. And by everything.. I MEAN EVERYTHING. But the scribbles, I knew that it was in there somewhere. Knew as well as I could know anything that it was surely in me somewhere. I have no business now in appealing to the masses. What I mean is, that’s not my job. My job is to create wonderful scribbles. Fiction. Writings. Yeah, I’ll go with writings this time. I’m knee-deep in it. The writings. The stories and rhythm~patterns I use, will continue to learn to use AND utilise in a brand new way. I love it. Maybe.. more than I could ever get to love anything. And I don’t want to call it my lifeline because that means that I need it to survive on a mental level from the ocd. I don’t. I won’t. What I will do, however, is… keep writing and keep doing what I’ve been doing for these past 11 years on returning home. Mine is a special case, no two ways. I see that. My nearest and dearest see it. Always have. And, know what, it is amazing and a huge, HUGE relief that people just like me at least now know that it is ocd we are dealing with. If I didn’t have a diagnosis, hence the necessity and correct medications allocated to my brain over time, which had been the case, actually, from the age of 11 to roundabout… 32, then.. I really dunno what I’d do and where I’d be 😌 It’s not any kind of a blessing, ocd. It’s, put pure and honestly, THE MOST TRAGIC OF MENTAL ILLNESSES IMAGINABLE. However.. I took my mind and imagined another way of thinking and in the right direction- AKA the scribbles, and for that I do take a bow 🙇‍♂️ In fact, I deserve to be bowing for the rest of my damn life, really. I know that above all else, too 😀