As I’ve mentioned before, I get more questions about HOCD than anything else. Even after adding a disclaimer to my question form (directing people with HOCD questions to my most thorough HOCD post), they still pour in.
And I get it. No one wants a general HOCD post; everyone wants to share their specific story and ask specific questions and get specific reassurance.
But I can’t, friends. I’m so sorry. I wish I could bear the burdens of everyone with grace and ease and without taking on anxious energy, but I don’t have the emotional capacity for that. Therapists get paid for this sort of work; they are trained for it; you have to set up an appointment, whereas my question form makes it seem like I am available 24/7 to handle OCD concerns.
Even if I post my policy online, even if people get my auto-response full of resources, people still email over and over or else find me on social media. I get this as well. Remember, I know what it is like to have that intense fear, that terror that drives you to seek answers. I know what it is like. I’ve been in those shoes.
My heart so deeply loves the OCD community, so desperately wants for those enslaved to experience freedom, which is why I blog about my experiences and provide resources. But in trying to protect my boundaries, in trying to prioritize my own remission, in trying to respect my health by not taking on crisis-level anxiety that I cannot manage, I know that I sacrifice that personal touch that a therapist or other mental health professional could offer you.
I’m going to take down my question form.
My answers remain the same:
God bless you all. Thanks for understanding.
It’s a legit question.
I used to follow something like 200 blogs. It’s how I started every day– going through all the new posts. I haven’t done that in a long while– basically, life got too crazy and something had to give. But I wonder if that is true for everyone. A group I’m in on Facebook was discussing the decline/downfall of the blog.
I’m not getting rid of my website or anything. It’s cathartic for me to have an online place to share. Plus I know people access my OCD materials daily. I just wonder how this site will shift in the coming years.
We shall see.
Life lately: good, hard, heartbreaking, rewarding, full of laughter, full of tears.
So, the usual. 🙂
If you still regularly read this blog, leave me a comment! Consider it a mini marketing research study.
What a week. Actually, two weeks.
My association is doing a massive construction project, and it’s been a pain at every step. I had to cancel three appointments at various times because construction either blocked me from leaving or blocked people from getting to me. I had to replace a variety of plumbing pieces, and then my basement flooded and I had to replace more. Today they hit our gas line.
I feel like I’ve been a drum major tossing out my spoons like candy at a parade. (If you’re not family with Spoon Theory, replace “spoons” with “limited energy.”)
Plus it’s my uggo time of the month, different from my period. There are 2-4 days a month when my body feels like it has parts that don’t fit, usually my neck. Yes. It feels like my neck is a foreign object being rejected by my real body. Cool. During these few days, my skin is also dull and I feel tremendously ugly, even though I know my hormones will chill within a week. Being a girl is glorious sometimes, hmm?
I’m re-reading The Writing Life by Annie Dillard and finding it even better than previous reads. This is the first weekend I’ve had to myself in a long while, and I’m going to use it to fight through the tangled brush of fear, avoidance, shame, and sheer overwhelmedness to get to my manuscript. I have tools. I’m ready to do this. The jungle of resistance will not claim me.
The wilderness is not unknown to me. I’ve spent time wandering there. Man, this is making me think of the O.C. Supertones when they nailed it in this song. I hope you’ll listen. It starts pretty upbeat (yay ska!) but ends pretty subdued and humbled.
I’m typing this from my phone and will have to go back in later and embed the video properly. Hugs to all.
The first scent of lilacs in the late spring makes me think, oddly, of childbirth.
Stick with me for a second here.
Some women are said to later remember the actual pain of labor as less intense than it actually was. This, I would guess, contributes to having more children. I’m not a mother.
But I do know that every winter, I remember the glory of lilacs as less intense than it actually was. This, I would guess, contributes to surviving winter. I live in Minnesota.