Ocdbloggergirl's Blog: OCD, Life, and Other Misunderstandings

More Mental Malaise, Less Donald Trump

I am not suicidal — August 28, 2013

I am not suicidal

I’m not suicidal. I have my cats. I have a nice apartment. I have all the necessities of life. I’m just miserable as I usually am when someone thinks bad of me. I  absorb everything anyone says anywhere.  I have the thinnest skin in the United States.

— August 27, 2013

I think about dying a lot. Nobody would care. I just look at my cats though. They keep me alive. They don’t care that I’m a worthless piece of shit.

Depressed —


A lot of the time I’m happy, optimistic, and I feel like my life has meaning. But the last week or so has made me wonder. I feel like I will never matter again. My only reason for living is my cats, I am worthless otherwise, but my cats are enough. I am nothing except to them, to the rest of everyone I don’t exist.
Probably because the pharmacy screwed up my meds, I feel dead and rotting. Worthless. Eh, but I’ll live.

Depression Exists — August 18, 2013

Depression Exists

My dear friend and fellow blogger, Paula, over at depressionexists.com, wrote this beautiful post in part to me, and I am reblogging it here. Thank you so much, Paula!



This post is in support of the people I follow – and also the people that follow me – who are suffering deeply with Depression right now:

For those out there that are struggling to cope with their Depression. You know who you are, and of course I would never mention any of you. But I want you to know that although you feel alone and people on WordPress aren’t in the physical world with you, they are there in spirit.
Keep reaching out, keep writing; write about everything. Especially, write about the ugliness that you are feeling. It needs to get out of your head and thrown into the universe. If we hold it all in something has to give, and it has the potential to lead to a breakdown.
I wish some of you could seek therapy. You would see just how free your mind and life can…

View original post 679 more words

Garden Variety — August 15, 2013

Garden Variety

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (Photo credit: schnappischnap)

When I  was younger, particularly before I became medicated, my OCD was garden variety. Blasphemous phrases in the tulips, fear of becoming homicidal pushing up in the daisies, infectious blood in the bleeding hearts.

But the roses in my OCD garden kept my mother. All the years I spent worrying about something happening to my mother, hyper vigilant, trying to evade her mortality, yet in the end she died just the same.

Nowadays my garden variety case  of OCD has died for the most part and is  mulch for another monster, a weed that began years ago.

Now  my mind is a courthouse. Not a Florida courthouse where you can get off for the darndest things, more like “kill ’em all or make ’em wear pink” Arizona. The judge in my head is merciless and ready to throw the book.

My crime is my inferiority complex. I want to measure up to the rest of the world and I fail. My judge hates my frailty. I pray and pray that I can  measure up to normal people, but I keep making mistakes everyday. I keep making people mad. I keep making myself mad. My judge asks me, “What use are you to anyone?”

“Dunno. I take care of my cats.”

I know the truth. If I died tomorrow, no one would be inconsolable. The one person who needed me is ashes in a plastic box. People loved my mother. I was just her quiet daughter, the one folks assumed was ‘slow.’

In a way not being needed is liberating. Being around  people tends to remind me of my faults. I like being around people, but I don’t like seeing the various ways that I fail. I sometimes feel like a leper around humans. I mean well, but as that drag queen I used to live with said, ‘you’re a boil on my ass that I just can’t lance.” Ah, but everyday that boil survives on her own, makes the sun shine where the sun don’t shine.

On a positive note, my eyes are healthy (apart from being blind as a bat without my glasses). I bet it’s been over 10 years since my last eye examination. I was afraid they’d find macular degeneration in my eyes since it runs in the family.

I once had my glasses adjusted at that office while my friend was there getting new glasses. The attendant remembered me because of my award-winning personality….and the super glue prominent on my left lens.

Ditching the ditch: Freeing up Youtube Space for LOL Cats and Pirated Movies — August 12, 2013

Ditching the ditch: Freeing up Youtube Space for LOL Cats and Pirated Movies

Luna and Celestia are visible on the top left ...
Luna and Celestia are visible on the top left and right corners of this poster for the San Diego Comic Con. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


I got rid of my latest nervous breakdown from  Youtube. Sorry if you missed my fit, but I’m sure somewhere on Youtube there is a lost episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic that you haven’t seen yet.

Ugh I’m so ashamed. I have never seen a harpie, but am convinced that I looked the part. Or maybe the Youtube Medusa. I looked rough. I don’t take it too well when impugned by anyone. I want so bad to not feel so much. I want to be normal. Normal people don’t have a ‘normameter’  constantly going off in their heads. They don’t worry about whether this or that makes me a bad person. I keep waiting to upgrade me, but it’s like I’m running Colecovision in my head while everyone else is running “Windows 8  Brain Edition.” 

But I’m alive! That’s a positive to this story.

yay — August 9, 2013
The Last Ditch Effort to Prove My Innocence — August 8, 2013

The Last Ditch Effort to Prove My Innocence

I am going to put this shit behind me after this. I was pretty upset if you can’t figure that out. No that’s not a chia pet holding a bag of coke. That’s me holding a bag of my mom. I guess the world won’t end if folks don’t believe me, but I care so much that I really work myself up. Oh well, yawn.

Why I suck — August 7, 2013

Why I suck

Well at least I know now. Turns out that Old Man started calling my so- called friend’shouse and she thinks I let him have her number. Well fuck him and fuck her too. Doesnt she remember he used to call her before I was nice to him?  Fuck her. Seriously. It’s proof that no one gives a fuck about me and they all probably wish I was dead.  Everyone turns against me.

The man I loved more than anything wishes I was dead.

My family disowned me when I told them my mom died, so I’m as good as dead.

And now everyone thinks I’m dirt online and probably offline too. Maybe someone is trying to tell me something. But I can’t kill myself because my cats need me. Why can’t I just go on and die. No one wants me around. My mother was the one who should have lived. I am not useful to anyone .  I’m scared , I don’t want to die, I don’t think, but if everyone is going to turn against me, why is God keeping me here? All I will ever be is a burden on society until the day I die. 

I refuse to kill myself but I’m not going to open myself up to anyone again. All they ever do is stab you in the back over and over.  I hate life. I hate death. Guess i’m just stuck here until my miserable fat fuck of a life is over by God’s hand.

— August 6, 2013

Today my heart started beating rapidly when I moved around. Maybe I’m dying, I thought. Does it matter? I asked myself.

Dear God, please I’m not ready yet. Please let me outlive my cats.

And here I am. Everyone needs a reason for living. My cats are mine. There’s a part of me craving death. “No one needs me,” my mind says.

Well my cats do.

Ugh, my online friends from AOL are turning against me. They think I’ve been giving out their numbers to a crazy guy in the chat room just because I talked to him. The fact is, I lose peoples’ numbers all the time and currently only have one. Why do people spread stuff that isn’t even true. I often depend on my chat room friends for friendship and now my best online friend thinks I’m Benedict Arnold. I cried and cried when I heard the rumor people are saying about me. 

My mom would tell me to stay out of that chat room, it upsets you too much.

Autistic Alex

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