If you ever want to see me cry, tell me I deserve to be happy. I will break into tears. Because I don’t believe it.
It’s so sweet when people tell me that. It makes me feel valued. But also angry at myself because I just don’t believe it.
You might be wondering why this has anything to do with OCD. It’s because this belief that I shouldn’t be happy keeps me so stressed out that I need my compulsions to comfort me. It’s because this belief makes me so anxious that obsessions can control my weakened mind.
When I started therapy, my therapist told me I should use relaxation techniques to help reduce anxiety that causes OCD to control me. I told her I didn’t know how. I told her I didn’t think I deserved to relax.
Since I was a kid, I’ve felt the need to prove myself. I’ve felt like any decision I made that wasn’t what the super good wonderful Christian person would do meant that I’d be judged as some horrible, heartless person. I’m tired of feeling that way. I am a Christian, but I still have feelings.
There’s so much I want to share, that I’m afraid to share. So much from my past. I want this blog to be open and honest so I can help people. But I don’t want to be perceived as some terrible person because I reveal things someone else has done. It’s hard to find the line where I should keep things private and where I should just be open. It kills me to not be completely open.
This post probably doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’ve been trying now for a week to determine things I want to say. I can’t find the words. Do I deserve to be happy? I don’t know. Certain people have a way of making me feel like I’m the meanest person on the planet. Certain people decide to drop bombs on me just when I’m starting to feel okay. I try so hard to not care what other people think. My therapist says that’s important to getting over my perfectionism issues. I can only control how I feel and all that. But damn–it sucks to think that people you really want and maybe need to love you unconditionally might not because they won’t see your side of the story.
My chest is so tight and heavy that if I were to walk into the ocean, I’m sure I’d sink from the weight. I’ve felt like throwing up all week. My OCD is in overdrive. So much for that progress I was making. Now the OCD has full control again. It’s not fucking fair. I have spent my entire life trying to be a good person. I am a deeply loyal and loving person. I give people way more chances than they deserve. But I have a limit. Doesn’t everyone? Am I the only person who shuts down and puts up a guard at a certain point?
I’ve encountered more pain in this life than I ever let people know. I smile a lot. I laugh. I joke. I help others. But I have a very dark side. It used to be that to see me at my most vulnerable, you’d have to get me drunk. Now I don’t need that. I just break. I crawl into my bed and hide. If only there were some easy way to let other people take my journey for a moment, just so they could understand why I feel how I feel.
I am lucky. I have an amazingly loving husband, who lets me lean on him when I am this weak. I have friends who check up on me because they can tell something is seriously wrong. I have my sweet mommy (actually my great-aunt for those who need to know/weren’t sure) who would do battle with anyone who dares to hurt me. These are the people who have watched me cry, who have let me unload for hours into the night when they have their own problems and their own lives. I usually end up apologizing profusely to them for ruining their nights. I hate to cause anyone to miss out on a happy, fun time because of me.
The older I get, the less I understand things that have happened.
Do I deserve to be happy? I don’t know. I want to believe those who tell me this. But today I don’t. I don’t know when I will.
Just do me a favor: don’t judge someone until you know their story. Things may be much different than you realize.