I’ve taken it as far as I can possibly go with the ocd. Medication will undoubtedly need to be lifted again by my doctor, when I return home from London. Holidays with Ross. Now, chances are it won’t end up feeling like any sort of a holiday for me because, well… it’s all trigger-filled owing to the ocd and at this particular stage. I know what I need to do, I truly do. Always have done. Well, at least my mind knows what to do. My brain, on the other hand!! However, I cannot trust that level of letting the uncertainty be there. I just can’t mentally do it. Or, rather, my brain cannot. Get to that place of relative balance- I know that’s what it will always take. But… alas, the ocd is too engrained in said brain. I can’t lose myself again and again and not even know I am losing myself because I am actually ALSO stuck in a rumination so as to attempt to calm my mind. It’s the most counterintuitive thing in the world, is ocd. I cannot understand how I have been humorous, or have even continued on with my relationship/relationships. But, as ever, the uncertainty will have to stay there, which is entirely akin to letting a belief that something is seriously wrong inside of my mind RIGHT THERE… … and NOT(!) trying to figure it out. Not trying to allay it at all. Hence the loop-cycle of ocd. I hate it. I hate the imbalance and I hate that I am the least negative person I know, one of the most pragmatic and caring, and, yet, I am lumped with having to deal with not only trying to balance this thing out… but also having to actually continuously let people know why I don’t work, etc. It’s beyond excruciating, and it has… not, in-fact, made me me. Not for a second. It actually takes away from me being myself one-hundred-percent. I would literally give my left nut to work. Heck, my right nut, too. But, above all else, I want to not be stuck in this paralysing mindf**k for any longer. I am not angry. I am… utterly heartbroken for the amount I’ve done to allay this whole mental illness for myself, only for it to never have worked to the necessary and much-needed extent. No-one sees this because, well, who CAN see into another’s brain? No-one. Now. Another thing. I went out at the weekend and it hit me badly. I know that. But it’s not just the drink. Ten minutes into that night out- doesn’t matter how “on fire” I was by most people’s reckoning, I’m used to hearing it and, honestly, that in itself boggles me all of its own and kills me, too, because I’m not witnessing it from ANY kind of a calm perspective at all – I was ruminating to beat ALL OF THE BANDS TIMES A THOUSAND. You cannot choose not to drink when you feel imprisoned by your own brain. You are sprinting into corners and corners and corners of endless rumination and anxiety. You cannot choose anything other than to hope this thing can eventually be okay for me. I want that more than anything because nobody can be expected to live with this level of mental illness. No one. And I have. For WAY TOO LONG A TIME NOW 😊