Working from home was a breeze, but the real workout was trekking to my monthly psychiatrist appointment. I popped my trusty ‘crazy meds’ this morning, keeping my harm OCD and anxiety in check. Walking both ways transformed me into a sweaty mess, proving that even a calm day requires serious legwork. Despite the trek and a long weekend, I’m still standing strong and completely sober, enjoying my victory under the AC.
I love chilling with my two grandkids. Specially when I feel depressed, down, empty and alone and they come over. Every little negative feeling, is lifted off of me as soon as they come running to me yelling GRANDPA! and PAPA!
Woke up today and my Harm OCD is already clocking in for a double shift. Trying to negotiate with my Bipolar 2 before my feet even hit the floor. 56 years of this and I still haven’t figured out how to fire either of them. Here’s to another day of surviving the mess.
Sorry for the silence. My depression teamed up for a fun game of “Who the fuck am I and what is my purpose?” Spoiler: Still don’t know. But I’m still breathing, still a grandpa, and still crazy.
Some mornings I wake up already at war with my own mind—violent intrusive thoughts, violent intrusive images and don’t forget the 100 miles per hour racing thoughts, no peace. And still, I get dressed and show up to work. Not because it’s easy, but because I’m still here.
If these thoughts ever feel like you might act on them or you feel unsafe, please call/text 988 right away.
I’ve deleted this blog more times than I can remember.
Maybe I wasn’t starting over.
Maybe I was erasing parts of my story that were worth keeping.
So here I am again.
#MentalHealth #OCD #Recovery #SelfDiscovery
Happy hump day, my fellow crazies.
Midweek progress isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s just wearing the OCD shirt, drinking coffee, surviving Harm OCD’s nonsense, and still showing up anyway.
That counts.