The Start of a Beautiful Friendship.

What exactly is a normal first memory to have?  As I get older I realize that normal isn’t a word that best describes one of mine.  I must have been around five or six years old, as I was living in Rancho Cordova at the time, lying in my room at night being tortured with thoughts of my dad ‘s truck being smashed by a speeding car as he drives away from my house.  I remember he drove a tiny grey truck, although I could be wrong about the color, as my memory is pretty much shot.   My parents were divorced and Sunday was our day together, every Sunday night he would pull into the driveway and take me home in time for The Simpsons.  Anyways, in case it wasn’t a strange enough thought for a child to have, I took it to another level by having a counting ritual to combat those scary thoughts.   Let’s see if I can recall what I did…I started with 1 and pictured the number in my head once.  Next, obviously, was 2.  I would then picture the number 2 twice in my head two times, so on and so on.  As I was only 5 at the time, the numbers would end up just confusing me until I became okay with taking shortcuts that I couldn’t even begin to explain today.  Now that I think about it, that had to be the start of my weird sleeping habits.  God, is there a thing about me that isn’t odd?  Easy answer to that question. 

I can’t decide if the sad part is that I thought this was totally normal behavior for someone my age or that I was a child plagued with these thoughts.

This also has me questioning whether ocd is something you are born with or does evolve over time?   

All out on the table

The question is, why am I writing this blog?  I don't want to become a face of ocd nor do I think I will shed new light on the battle that sufferers face everyday.  The reason for this blog is as simple as the fact that I want to have a place to put down my thoughts.  I can already hear you thinking, "just get a diary"...well I hate writing, and reading my handwriting is as difficult as reading a doctors.  I remember my Grandma making me sit and write neatly and slowly with Alphabet exercises, sorry Grandma, but you failed miserably on that lesson.

So, you are probably thinking, what the hell is ocd anyway?  Imagine a scratched record, it's stuck and repeating that same annoying sound over and over and over...well that's the best example I can give of ocd.  The same thoughts intruding into your brain, over and over, with no way of stopping unless you do certain rituals.  Even with the rituals all you end up with is more thoughts and even more rituals.  It is never ending.  Some days I wish a lobotomy was an option.  Oh, how sweet it would be not to think for just one minute of my day...well, one can dream right?

Here I am, a 23 year old woman battling this for 23 long and painful years.  Now it's time to collect my thoughts, to decide how much I am willing to share about this.  Maybe I will get the courage to put everything out on the table, to say this is what I deal with and I won't hide it anymore.  Yet the embarrassment is what stops me, the fact that most people won't try to understand.  I do realize that if I refuse to hide my battles any longer, then it will take much courage to put it all out there.  Do I really have that courage????