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

More Mental Malaise, Less Donald Trump

I’m Really Scared — October 7, 2019

I’m Really Scared

I don’t know why they haven’t sent out a message to renew my lease. My lease expired October 4th, and I’ve read state law prevents landlords from not renewing leases without 30 days notice BEFORE the lease expires. I’m still scared though, and what if they hike it up since last year’s hurricane destroyed cheaper apartments in the region.

They’re rolling out a new form of Medicaid, and one wrong choice could ruin my special assistance I get from Medicaid. I’d call my social worker, but I can’t stand that woman. I called Medicaid and they’re going to send me a form to stay on “direct Medicaid,” because I have “behavioral health issues.” ‘Behavioral Health’ sounds twice as bad to me as ‘mental health, but what do I know?

Then what really upsets me is I get roped in to watching my ‘friend’s’ 4 dogs for 2 weeks while she goes to Nova Scotia.She never bothered to tell me it would be 2 weeks instead of one, how much bus money she’s leaving me, who do I contact in emergency. I doubt unless she gets an international plan, I could contact her, and she doesn’t want me to sully her Facebook with my presence. So yeah, I get 2 weeks of Diverticulitis Poppy shitting up my friend’s house with her loose excrement everywhere and Dudley the smelly shitzu who won’t stop licking my face no matter how many times I push him away. The two other dogs are fine, as is her cat.

OK kids, here’s a helpful hint: If someone used to be your mental health nurse wants to be your friend later, she may be planning on using you. I should have known years ago when this first happened that it’s never my charming personality.

I can’t handle all of this at once. The uncertainty of everything.

Pass — September 15, 2019

Pass

Now that she’s met someone, she’s asking Someone if he knows anyone for me. I told her no thanks. The thought of having to meet said Somebody if she had been successful is terrifying. I’m sure I would fuck everything up. I can’t pass for normal no matter how hard I try and my looks don’t help either. Imagine having to invite someone into my dilapidated apartment if we became that close, or putting up a conversation, or admitting I am on disability. What if he thought I was an idiot, or I thought he was an idiot? I can’t even imagine. While I don’t want to die alone or as a virgin, no. Just no.

Water Leaking Light Bulb — August 21, 2019

Water Leaking Light Bulb

About to have a psychotic break. I had to call maintenance just now because there is a steady stream of water coming down from the light bulb in my bed room closet. This will be the second time in a month I’ve had to call them for a water related issue,the first was air conditioner related. I called about 15 minutes ago. My anxiety is rising to a crescendo. Dammit, why won’t they come? This is kind of an emergency. I’m scared. What if it’s my neighbor’s water heater about to blow? What if my neighbors get upset I didn’t warn them first? My apartment looks OK right now by my standards, but what if they throw me out? There’s a lot of stains on my carpet, walls, everything. Maybe maintenance is on lunch break and fuck everyone. I suppose I should wait until 4 to call back unless my water bucket starts overflowing. My neighbors are talking loudly. Maybe they found the leak. Maybe they’re mad at me. It’s still steady flowing. I think it’s their water heater. Would bath water leak that long?

I guess I’ll keep writing until someone comes or I have a heart attack and die.

Someone’s coming I think. Maybe not.

Keep talking.

I’d text my friend, but I’m trying to only have conversations with her if she texts first. Bad things have been happening between us. Both my therapist and shrink know about it, my therapist knows all about it. My friend, as you may know if you read many a post before I private it, has a problem with verbal abuse. Sometimes after particularly bad blow ups, I overtake my medication a bit. Not trying to die, but trying to sleep a long time. My friend found me like this, allegedly took pics of me passed out, allegedly called the cops (I can find no record of it), and allegedly stayed with me for hours. I think she’s lying about some of it. She wants nothing to do with me except when she has to over the cats. She called my shrink, but so did I. The story gets worse from there, but I feel I best not say more. But be assured, people know what’s going on.

I heard my neighbor on the phone, but I was too scared to listen. I will plug my ears for fear of hearing them say something bad about me. I have an irrational fear of people talking about me or telling on me or anything. I hope to god they know what is going on and don’t get caught smoking pot. I’m listening to Cardi B. to try to drown shit out. It’s still leaking. It’s been an hour. I’ll keep talking.

The PH was too high in the Family Pool at the Y. The lifeguard warned me. Maybe they had some kid do something unfortunate in there. So I skipped that and I only had a few minutes anyway, because I thought it was an hour earlier when I left the house. I sat in the hot tub for a hot minute, then took a shower. When I got out, my bus sailed away before I could cross four lanes of traffic. I had to call an Uber. This is the second Tesla I’ve rode in. I much prefer riding in a Hooptie, because I feel like an Untouchable chilling with a Brahman. Nice guy, wanted to hear about all the amenities at the Y as he spends most of his free time swimming and working out. Of course he does. When he isn’t flexing his pretentious car.

Now an hour and a half has gone by. Getting annoyed. Maybe I should see if the bucket is full. No, half full. The water is still flowing pretty well and a nice stain is beginning near the light bulb. At least that’s proof it’s not my fault maybe. Listening to Lana del Rey.

I’ve had the first part of a psychiatric evaluation, IQ included. I got tired of people thinking, or in case of my friend – saying, that I’m mentally challenged. I want to know if it’s true. Pretty sure I have brain damage, but full blown idiot, I think not.

My friend doesn’t understand why I would want this done. Am I trying to compare to her high intelligence, or do I want to have it ‘both ways?’ I just want to prove that I’m not as stupid as she thinks I am and to figure out why I am such a weirdo. I’ll be happy to come in at average.

The psychologist wears a Lurch suit and Converse shoes. I liked him right away. Most PHD’s are stuck up I think. This guy treated me like a normal person, spoke to me like a normal person, and I had a good rapport with him. This comes in handy if he’s giving you an IQ test. I asked him towards the end of the session what he thought so far. So far, I’m AT LEAST average. I got a couple of easy questions wrong in patterns, but then I seemed to right myself and get the harder questions right.

It’s been over two hours now. I think I’ve written well over what I should and I could keep going. Will update if I don’t float away.

Reefer Madness —

Reefer Madness

Sassy the cat and I were walking back from feeding strays at the doctor’s office. What the hell is that, I think as I walk up to a felled street light. It is an old light on a wooden pole. The pole is snapped in half. Not a clean break, splintered everywhere, and the metal bent. Miraculously, the light stays lit even laying in the grass, working like a spotlight on the name of the apartment complex and the 5 mph speed limit. Someone was drunk, or experiencing reefer madness, or just being the average douche flooring it in between speed bumps. The OCD in me keeps whispering, “Somehow this is your fault. You did this. You just don’t know you did.”

someone must have

Bitchfest 2019 — May 25, 2019

Bitchfest 2019

Feeling a tad morose. A wee bit lugubrious. A little low. She who usually only contacts me for a favor, hits me up to watch her dogs for the weekend. Mercifully, as bad as this sounds, she’s down from 8 to 4 dogs from the elderly ones passing away. God, that sounds awful, but 8 poorly behaved dogs is a lot to handle. Four dogs, one of whom has diverticulitis and shits up the house, is enough. It won’t be so bad, but as always, I feel she isn’t telling me something. Maybe she’s just having an impromptu beach weekend, but I have the feeling she’s sick physically, emotionally, or both. I wish everything wasn’t a game of having to surmise what is happening.

And the real bitch of the thing is I had her as a reference for me volunteering for Crisis Text Line… and CTL says they never received her reference. Though she says she sent it. I don’t even want to ask. Maybe it was too upsetting for her to do, maybe it’s a mistake. I just really want to be able to say one day I made a difference. If I drop dead tomorrow from one cheeseburger too many, there will be no noble epitaph for my life.

Lisa -Filled a void in her mother’s life. Then her mother died, so she fed some cats.

Oh well, life is what you make it, I guess. I’m up to 60 YouTube subscribers. Three are men into fatties and belching, the rest are people just being nice. Still, that’s more than I thought I’d get. If I get internet famous, who needs a useful life.

Another thing. I’m convinced my upstairs neighbors loathe me. I was sitting outside when the man came out. I said hello. He didn’t say hi back. Not the first time either. Then his significant other game along with their two kids.

“Who is that?” said one kid.

“Someone you don’t need to bother,” said the mother. Maybe she didn’t want the kid bothering me, but I felt dismissed as the crazy cat lady. No other acknowledgement. I once even introduced myself when she brought me back my alarming phone when I lost it. No reply except that she had been trying to go to sleep. Maybe they’re just pot smoking assholes.

But then I also fucked up. I’m pretty sure I did. There was a little pink drawing desk all muddy from being left outside. It was left in the hallway two weeks, so I figured it had been abandoned. Maybe it had not been. I use it as a bedside table since my mattress is on the floor. If I put it back there, it’s an admission of guilt. I feel bad. Maybe they hate me for that too?

Anyway, Happy Memorial Day weekend!

Twitching — April 28, 2019

Twitching

My right arm just below my shoulder is pulsating off and on as though it is a separate being. For some reason, the occasional twitches and pulsations of my body are fascinating to me. I think it’s my nerves. Every few seconds comes the twitch, which lasts for a few more seconds. The pulsing is so fast, I can’t count how many times it pulsates. What a thrill.

Sometimes it’s my right eye, rapid like a bird beating her wings. Then I must capture it in the mirror or with my camera, my own private freak show. Fortunately, this twitching happens infrequent enough to be amusing to me and even calming. Look I’m still alive! There’s my brain misfiring again.

Starting in high school, I noticed in my left palm a vein that I could watch pulsate if I rested my hand just so on my desk. This must’ve seemed like a swell parlor trick to me because covertly watching my vein pulse also calmed me.

I twitch my nose also, but this is voluntary. But I’m so used to doing it that it’s more I have to consciously stop myself from doing it. It’s like twiddling your thumbs, except it’s my freaking nose. I also move my mouth too. Match.com here I come!

The Time I Stood Up for Child — March 28, 2019

The Time I Stood Up for Child

Looking back upon the 41 years I’ve been on this planet, I generally see it as devoid of much useful to humanity. I imagine Clarence from It’s a Wonderful Life searching hard to find something redemptive about my life and sighing in the end, “Dammit, Georgina, go ahead and jump. I got nothing.”

But not as of last Friday. Last Friday, maybe, I could say I actually did something for someone that really helped her.

I was at my therapist’s office in the waiting room. There was a woman with a child and I get the feeling she isn’t the little girl’s mother. Two women come out into the waiting area and tells the child’s guardian that they want to interview them separately.

“Oh, yes, that’s definitely a good idea,” says the guardian, leaving the little girl without a look back. Flashback: Me. Seven years-old. Knowing when adults are talking negatively about me. I know this little girl knee that she is talked about. It must feel terrible.

The little girl sat on the floor playing with Legos as the other woman of the two who came out, sat down. She didn’t introduce herself, I noticed. Do children not need common courtesy?

“I’m going to ask you some questions, the 50ish woman said.

“OK,” replied the little girl.

I began to feel a certain sense of watching this unfold on a different plain from reality. This can’t really be happening in front of me.

“Does anyone yell or call people names in your household?”

“Yes,” said the little girl.

“Does anyone hit or beat you in your house?”

“Um no.”

“Has anyone ever touched you inappropriately, like your private parts?”

“Um no.”

“Has either of your parents gone to jail or been in prison?”

“Not that I know of. ”

Then my therapist came out to get me and the spell, my stupor of pure disbelief, was broken. As I walked back to my therapist’s office, the weight of what I heard hit me. I told my therapist everything I witnessed angrily. My therapist jumped up, and asked if I’d be OK if she went and put a stop to it right now.

“Yes, please do!”

There was a bit of apprehension within me knowing that the woman doing that child’s intake would know it was me totally narcing her out. But what could I do? No child would answer those questions with an audience there. What if she was being abused in some way? What if I had been someone with PTSD listening? ‘Triggered’ has become something laughable in our society, but there are people who truly would fall apart if they were unfortunate enough to hear what I did. I had to do something. There’s been times I should have said something to someone and I have to live with that. Luckily, I trusted my therapist, and could tell her what I witnessed.

It turns out that the woman didn’t work for the therapist’s office, but my therapist is going to follow up on her. Someone above that woman is going to hear how she violated that child’s rights. I hope she doesn’t lose her job, though she deserves to.

So, yeah. Maybe I made a difference to a vulnerable child. Maybe I of all people, actually helped someone.

In other news, March 24th was my ninth blogoversary. I’m a different human being than that person who started this blog. Anyway, thanks anyone reading this.

Neighbors — February 23, 2019

Neighbors

My neighbors are arguing again. I long for the days of Danny, boring 50-something year-old Danny. Huge, with no love interest to get into a fight with. These folks are young and loud. From their voices, I believe there’s 3 of them sharing a one bedroom, or at least, someone’s staying with them. The women have got into drag outs before and the one attached to the man, explodes at him. On New Year’s Day, there was an argument between two guys up there, and it sounded as though they would come through my ceiling.

I honestly wouldn’t care as long as they don’t kill each other, but for the miserable fact that I’m paranoid they will say something bad about me and I’ll overhear it. Yes, my head is indeed that much up my own ass. I’m sure being a stereotypical Caucasian cat lady gives them a few guffaws, but I live in perpetual fear that someone’s going to cause me trouble for feeding the stray cats. I’m so scared of losing agency over myself.

The horrible experience of living in that nursing home two months is something I haven’t gotten over. Some things are harder to build bridges over. My family and friends abandoning me, having to beg and throw money at my roommates to make them want to take me back, it just doesn’t go away. I need to transcribe in full my diary I kept when I was in the home. It might be amusing. I started to, and then stopped as my roommate situation grew more volatile -I got over that kind of, though it took me about 4 years to remove the one I cared deeply for off my Facebook friend list. Even though I knew he was evil, there was still a part of me that yearned for the good times. I missed him for so long. I was in love with him even though he was mega gay and had something. The period between February 10th through Easter reminds me of what happened during that time in 2012. I wish I didn’t spend my life obsessing that it will happen again.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

— February 22, 2019

I almost went to an OCD support group today, but I got on the wrong bus. I was almost relieved. You can’t be disliked if no one knows you’re alive. There’s a voice in my head, not an actual hallucination as it comes from me, that tells me “Everyone hates you. You won’t make any friends ever. You’re fat and ugly, and you have a shitty personality.” You know me, always big with the Daily Affirmations.

Even on social media: “People think you’re shit. You’re boring as fuck. Stop pretending you’ll ever amount to anything.” My mind,just gallons of charm. Even when I see neighbors: “They all hope you get evicted. They think you’re ‘special.’ Please step on a land mine.” Fun.

Anyway, in case you weren’t here in 2011, this is me reading posts about the death of my mother.

Misery and Despair — February 16, 2019

Misery and Despair

She’s my only friend who exists on this side of the screen and I don’t want to lose her. But about 3 days ago, she began ripping me to shreds again just as bad as she’s ever done. She stopped awhile when I was in a deep depression, but now it’s back in full swing just as I was crawling out of my hole. Everything that could possibly get to me:

  • Lazy retard
  • My videos are moronic
  • I’m a ‘train wreck’
  • I’m neglectful of the strays

I’m just laying here miserable and worthless. I threw things, screamed, and just had a total meltdown alone. Then my fucking sorry POS self crawled into bed.

She can be so nice, but I know the slightest thing will set her off. For instance, New Year’s Eve. I forgot to tell her which Dollar General I was at because there are two near me. She made me wait two hours to pick me up in a sketchy area and berated the shit out of me while waiting. And when I’m that upset, I meltdown. The cashier at DG knew. She could see that I was bawling outside, loud anguishing sobs I could barely control. My friend came and had us eat at a restaurant there that she knows I don’t like to go to because the manager thinks I’m trash. I really wonder if I have autism because I totally lose my shit sometimes loudly. My therapist doesn’t think so because I crave relationships with other people.

It’s the Dependent Personality Disorder part of me that will take her shit and not lash out back for fear of being completely alone. I don’t want anyone living with me or making my decisions for me unless I ask, but I don’t want to be alone either. I’d have no one. Honestly, if she lost me, she’d be pretty much alone, too.

She says I have no ambition, but in my heart of hearts, I want to write a blog and articles that people read. I want to become known on YouTube and actually be liked for being a “train wreck,” i.e being myself. I want to feel loved. I want to matter just enough to be worth my skin. I want to help someone.

Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, I got a short form disability review. I’m always afraid of losing my benefits, becoming homeless, and dying in an alley. So, I need to call my therapist first thing Monday. I think I need a squeeze in.

Back in 2012, I was in a mental hospital. I guess things could be worse.

I don't want to exist. I want to live.

A blog about living with mental health problems.

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