I expect utter respect from people. They know full well what I have to go through with this OCD thing, they know how exhausting and tiresome it can,
in fact, all of it be. They need to let me do exactly what I need to do because at no point is my particular taking a rest about being in any way lazy, etc. It’s the opposite of that, in fact; it’s about trying to stay with the obsessions and compulsions, to stay with them all the time and all the way through it. Today I rest. Today I do not ruminate however tricky it can become. And, guess what, it is already starting to claw its way back, its way in again. Imagine, if you will, please, having all of the right and perfect hands in a game of poker only to realise that with each time the other players place their own hands down, even though they are all undeniably not as good as your hand, that the dealer STILL proceeds to tell you that, in fact, SOMEONE ELSE has won the game. That’s what OCD feels like- a total injustice. A perversion of the truth. That’s somewhat akin to the, let’s say, mental loss that you feel on a moment to moment basis. On one comparable level, anyhow.