But this whole week has been just… anxiety filled. Like, I-can’t-breathe-anxiety. Like I’m constantly taking deep breaths and sighing because I haven’t realized I was holding my breath. Or my exhales are coming in short spurts and it makes my throat warm. And it’s just frustrating. I haven’t been able to think clearly, things like my hair sitting on my shoulder freak me out because I think it’s a spider. I’m so uncoordinated. And it’s just, difficult. I mean… things are home right now are difficult but not enough that it should cause me anxiety.

But who knows, your mind only consciously focuses on what you want it to.

I failed my first class since I started UoP and I’m really upset. Mostly because I busted my ass in this class and edited our team paper (along with one other member) for the last 5 weeks, re-wrote multiple sections for team members who didn’t pull through and I get an F? The teacher was less than uncaring and never bothered to help anyone. So why should I think that even though my effort was obvious that she would give a damn? Not to mention her rude remarks to my husband every time he asked her for help. School is closed on the weekends so I have to wait until Monday to fix it. It’s just stressful because this class is going to have to be paid with my own money and each class is over $1000. So there goes half of my grant… *sigh.

I think I’ll spend Sunday doing nothing but relaxing. Even though I want to catch up on blogs and do all sorts of other things… I really just need to relax. Which is hard, while being here. But I need to do something to make this anxiety go away.

Tonight anxiety is being joined by paranoia. And you know, those two… they get wild. So I’m thinking maybe I should call it an early night. I’m sure hubs is banning me from taking Ty PM and NyQuil on nights like this. Not that he’s watching me closely but still. I see his logic.

I just really hate this.

So I go about my business, doing laundry and putting it in the dryer. So when it comes time to pull it out, I do and I don’t notice anything odd. Normally I would fold my laundry after I pull it out of the dryer but I was lazy and right now I really wish I hadn’t been lazy and had just folded it.

Later that night I decide to wash my favorite hoodie and I usually check the dryer, just to do it. Make sure there’s no coins mostly (nothing annoys me more than coins or money in the washer/dryer). But I guess I figured I just did laundry and no one did laundry before me, it should be fine. Well I pull my hoodie out of the dryer before taking a shower last night and it’s completely ruined. There was a pen I didn’t see that was in the dryer earlier and it completely exploded on my hoodie. I just about broke down and cried. I noticed a few ink splots on my clothes when I was folding the first load, but I didn’t think much of it.

Now getting dressed in my house clothes, I see the ink got pretty much everywhere. It’s all over my pajamas, my socks, my house clothes, my towels… it’s everywhere and I’m fighting the urge to rewash my clothes even though I know that won’t take out the ink marks. But mostly because I’m wondering where that pen has been. My brother works in a club in San Francisco, so naturally I’m thinking of all the ick in the city that could have come in contact with that pen.

Normally I hate doing laundry after my brother because he also takes BART home and ugh, more ick. I mean, a washer is self cleaning right? Whatever that means. And even if it isn’t, the heat from the dryer would kill any remaining germs… right? Oh, I don’t know! I’m just so upset that my favorite hoodie is completely utterly ruined.

To make it worse my dad looked at me like I was crazy after I told him what happened. Saying he didn’t see a pen, but obviously there had to had been! The dryer is also ruined with ink spots scattered around inside of it. It’s just so frustrating. I’m telling him what happened and he’s going off and blaming it on my mom (who ONE wasn’t home and TWO didn’t do laundry before him) or on me who doesn’t even have a pen! Why would I carry a pen in my pj’s? What kind of sense does that make?

Now I don’t know what to do. I can’t replace my clothes and I’m just so angry. Good thing I don’t dress up too often and none of my completely irreplaceable clothes were ruined. Now I know I’ll be checking the washer/dryer more obsessively. Wonderful.

I think the most frustrating part is he doesn’t believe in OCD. He doesn’t believe I have OCD and every time I tell him why I do things or why I freak out about things he just refuses to understand when he himself has it too! And I think it frustrates me that he picks up on these new habits and doesn’t bother to stop and think that what he’s doing isn’t normal. And he’s at that age where he doesn’t listen to anyone and tries to go and justify what he’s doing instead.

And I think the part that frustrates me the most is that he tells me that I never clean things. When I do, obviously because he got that habit from me. And when I say this he denies it and goes on and on about how he’s always cleaning everything and I never do.

Argh.

I heard about his new girlfriend a few years ago, they were together for a few years and all this time I thought maybe she was able to stand him for so many years because maybe he had changed. Maybe he grew up, maybe he matured, maybe he treated her better than he ever treated me.

But my friend, who at the time was hanging out with a mutual friend she shared with my ex, told me of all the things he did to her. He hadn’t changed, in fact, he got worse. The things he did to her sounded similar to the things he did to me and I couldn’t help but feel bad for her, to endure that abuse for so many years? I couldn’t imagine being put through it. Especially know how demanding and selfish he is.

I remember reading somewhere that abusers never get better. They’re not capable of getting better. In their minds, the things they do are justified. They were the victims, not the other way around and in some cases, they don’t remember the pain they caused you, like it never even happened. They have to actively be willing to change, they have to be actively aware that they’re abusing their significant other in order to stop and in order to change and even then, it’s unlikely they’ll be able to stop. They tend to do the same things; they tend to isolate you in order for you to depend on them and them alone, you’re easier to control that way. They tend to break down your self-esteem because again, when they make you feel worthless, you’re easier to control.

And it’s shocking to think back, and to realize, that happened to me. Someone, out there, convinced me these things and succeeded for awhile in making me this breakable isolated person. The difference? I knew this was some fucked up mind game, but it wasn’t until I lost all my friends and the trust of my family that I figured this out. It wasn’t until I lost the people I cared about the most. I knew I deserved better than this. I knew I was WORTH so much more than what he was throwing at me. And I knew I didn’t have to deal with his crap anymore.

I remember him going through my cell phone every time he saw me, going through my call log, my text messages. I remember him asking me over and over why my guy friend’s phone numbers were still on my phone and if I was sleeping with them (cause why else would you text a friend, right?). Demanding over and over again. I remember changing all the names on my phone to screen names and when he figured out who was who, I changed it to nicknames. For a long time, I never had anyone’s actual names on my phone. I remember I had an ex who cared a lot about me and called me all the time and I had to lie saying it was a female friend. I remember the fights that started at 9PM that lasted until 6AM… the screaming, the hanging up, turning off my phone only to have him call both house phones and when those went unanswered, the called my mom’s cell then my dad’s. I remember him calling my mom after we had a fight to “let her know how much of a horrible person her daughter is”. I remember the one time he put his hands on me. The one time I actually felt “fight or flight” and maybe I was stupid, but I was ready to fight. I have never felt so ready then I did at that moment. The moment he pinned me on the bed screaming at me, I never had that strong of an urge to somehow get him off me and BEAT HIS FACE IN. I wanted him to remember he was messing with the wrong girl. I remember digging my nail into his skin and hearing him cry and scream. And I remember I kept digging until I felt blood. I remember the nights he MADE me miss my ferry or my bus home. And I remember calling my mom to tell her I was spending the night, and my mom being upset at me. I couldn’t tell her, he was staring me the entire phone call. I remember being too scared to ask for help, I was in too deep. People already hated me because of him. Who did I have left to turn to? Who would believe me? No one.

I had one friend. One friend he couldn’t touch. One friend he couldn’t fine. One friend he couldn’t take away from me because the only placed I talked to that friend was at school. And I was careful when I mentioned my friend to him. I was careful to keep it to a strict conversation of video games and I was careful to not linger on the subject of my friend for too long so he wouldn’t even slightly suspect anything.

The day I decided I couldn’t take it anymore, the day I decided to finally leave… was the scariest day of my life. I remember coming home from an amazing afternoon/night with that friend and next thing I knew, I was on the phone with my then boyfriend and he was fake crying, saying “I feel like you don’t love me anymore” and I remember blurting out without thinking “because I don’t”. Everything after that was a blur, I remember him spreading rumors… posting my full name and my phone number in various places. I remember him getting mutual friends to harass me. My parents unplugged the phones the next day and we got caller ID. I changed all my contact information and I kept my cell phone off for a few days. And through the rough breakup, my friend was there to cheer me up. To keep me smiling when I didn’t want to.

And now, 7 years later… hearing news about my ex, still give me slight anxiety. He still haunts me sometimes even though we haven’t spoken or seen each other in 7 years. And now, I’m married to my friend who saved my life. I’m married to someone who’s nothing like my ex. He doesn’t get mad when I try to distract him from his video games. He doesn’t get mad at me if I turn off his game and tell him it’s time to eat. He’s never ever hit me. He’s never ever yelled at me, and if he has it was within good reason. He doesn’t tell me I’m stupid because of the music I like, he doesn’t go through my phone or my emails or my computer. He doesn’t stop me from hanging out with my friends. He supports everything about me. Every crazy obsession. Every hobby. Every off the wall idea. He never holds things over my head. He sends me home when he knows I need to be home. He cares about me in way I’ve never experienced.

And I’m free. I could had been me, but it wasn’t me. I’m proud of myself for walking away for good, no matter how scared I was.

Because of it, I’m still here. I’m happy and I’m married to someone amazing.

OCD works different for everyone, but for me… I shower at night and so I’m clean for the night up until either 1) I’m getting ready to leave the house or 2) I’m getting ready to go to bed. So whatever I do from my shower to either one of those two options, I have to stay clean which is a pretty vague definition.

For the sake of this entry, that means I can’t go downstairs and grab a bowl or a cup and sit in my room and eat. Not if it’s a bowl/cup from my house. If it was (say I had a drink ready for me before I took a shower, I’d have to disinfect the cup. Yes, I would have to disinfect a clean cup from my own home) in that in-between time. Does that make sense?

So pretty much, I couldn’t eat the food my mom had bought just then because I “couldn’t“. There was a point in my OCD where it was okay, I always had dinner on my bed. Then it started that I had to have a paper towel between my bed and my plate/bowl to just not doing it at all. And then there was the time where I couldn’t even leave my room after a shower. Not even to pee, I’d force myself to wait until the next morning (which led to a UTI).

And I really hate how OCD does this to me because it makes me sound like I’m a snob and I’m not, I’m not trying to be and sometimes its just really hard to explain to my mom, and I love how she always tries to find a way around it to make things more comfortable for me… I’m glad she understands, but I just hate thinking that she thinks I’m still the selfish snob I was when I was younger, and that’s not even the case this time… it’s just, well like I’ve stated above, can’t do certain things… it’s just something that’s been bothering me since that day. I actually think about this constantly.

And I wish I could just break out of this… but after 7 years? It just seems hopeless. I know, somewhere, deep down inside, I’m so much stronger than this. I broke out of this for 3 months and I didn’t die. Germs didn’t kill me. So I don’t get it… what’s the big deal? Germs won’t kill me. Hell in those 3 months they didn’t even make me sick. I’ve been kinda prepping myself to try it again. Except last time I did it, it was because I was tired of dealing with my anxieties.

It’s just weird, the way it works. The way it makes you feel at all the different stages…

I’ve tried to not really put too much thought into OCD lately, I’ve already got too much other crap to think about. I always thought that maybe if I cleaned up my life a little more, my OCD would slow down… but now, I don’t even know if that’s true anymore.

I’m 25 and my life is still a mess. I’m not so much of a mess anymore but my life still is and I need to fix that, soon. Or at least, attempt to. Or something.

Everyday is a struggle, if not with OCD then with something else. It’s always something. Sometimes (like now) it’s multiple things at once.

And yes, I could get up. I could clean my room and ignore my OCD. I could. But how far will I get before anxiety kicks in? Procrastination is a fear of failing. I’m so much stronger than this, I’ve proved that to myself for months at one point of this entire mess and now, now… why can’t I do it again? Why do I feel like I’m back in this glass cage again? A prisoner against my own mind.

I could get off my blogs and I could do my homework. I could. But I’m not. Because I don’t understand it and I need to break out of that habit. Of not doing something because I don’t understand it. I know I don’t want to lose this A. This is the first A I’ve ever held in all the years I’ve been in college, do I want to lose it because I didn’t understand ONE assignment?

Debt is heavy on my mind these days. And it feels like a ton of bricks piled up on me. What can I do? How can I fix this? How is fixing this possible without a job? My time is already limited without a job, I couldn’t imagine how much more time I’d lose if I did have a job. And at the same time, I simply can not go without having a job. I haven’t even had time to do any paid blogging assignments. And that really sucks.

Things will get better when I make them better.

And I know that. I’ve always known that. And I will always know that.

I thought after enrolling into the debt consolidation  program and talking to Citi Bank it would be all smooth sailing from there.

I WAS WRONG.

Over the span of 3 days this last week I’ve somehow managed to owe two different places $800. I didn’t even get the pleasure of swiping my card for this debt! INSANE. I owe my community college $105 for 2 classes. One of those classes was a journalism class of which the instructor didn’t email me at all. So I couldn’t access the classroom since it was online. Well this instructor decided to drop me after the last day to drop, I know I should had dropped the class myself but I was still waiting on an email! So now, I have to pay for a class I never got a chance to attend. Bullshit! We owe Sprint $600-something for our new phone plan. We were told (by the store manager) it would be taken care of, we’re still waiting on our rebate. Sprint is granting us an extension until the end of next month, but get this… we have to pay $200 every two weeks until then. I thought this was an extension, what the fuck are you extending if we still have to pay the bill? We’re obviously asking for an extension because we can’t pay the bill at the moment. So I have to pay off $200 by the 19th. Then another $200 by my birthday (yay, happy fuckin birthday to me).  Again, bullshit.

So with all that including a bunch of other money-related struggles, I just couldn’t take it anymore. Martin was stressed out too so that didn’t help since we were both grumpy and I broke down at the mall. At the mall. I hate crying in public. It makes me want to punch anyone who even glances in my direction in their fuckin face. What? You’re never seen someone cry before? Geez.

We had a talk last night. He said he’s unhappy, not with me, but just with life. I know life can be hard, and I know how hard it is when you don’t exactly know what to do or what you want to do and I know it’s hard to see positivity when nothing is going right. But I just wish he’d attempt to see it, because his attitude right now will not get him very far. And he’ll stay stuck in his hole that he’s been digging himself since who-knows-when.

Since all this added on stress, my OCD has of course, gotten worse. I was spray disinfecting my house slippers and the bottom of the slippers were facing the direction of my bath towel… at least, I think they were? And I start freaking out. I wanted to rush downstairs and wash my bath towel… but that’s insane thinking isn’t it? I dont know anymore. I’ve been trying to force myself to not think of it the last few days. I have however, managed to get books on my bed so I’ve been reading before bed which is something I haven’t done in years. I miss it. I tend to read more before bed.

Martin struggles with something too, its something that most people may not believe. It’s something that most people don’t believe is true or can happen. But I believe him. He says its been getting worse. I can’t say why because he doesn’t really know. It could be happening more often because hes stressed or just because he’s getting older… there isn’t a support group or anything out there on what he struggles with.

And he was telling me last night that I can tell someone I have OCD and they’ll say “oh, that sucks” but if he told someone what he struggles with they’d call him stupid. But that’s not completely true. There are a ton of people out there who don’t think OCD is real. Who think OCD is just make believe or for people who use drugs. Then there are the people out there who say they’re OCD when really there’s nothing wrong with them. I think OCD is one of the most misunderstood struggles out there. It’s a hard, confusing, painful struggle and I don’t think people understand that. It’s not something to joke about, its not funny. It’s unfortunate. And there isn’t a solid cure or reason to why it even happens. So for people like me who always want to know how or why, there’s no answer for us. Except “its a chemical imbalance in your brain”.

I told Martin that I would work on it, but right now, I’m not strong enough. And he told me I am. He told me it’s my brain, I can control it back if I wanted to. He said that I choose not to. And maybe he’s right. Or maybe, I just don’t feel strong enough. I know stress makes it worse and right now isn’t the best time to work on something I can’t see or touch when I’m struggling with a million other things.

But… what about the last 6 years? I wasn’t ready then either? What about 6 years from now will I still sit here and say “I’m not strong enough right now”? Will I end up like other people who tell stories of struggling with OCD for 15 or 20 years? Do I want that for myself?

Do I want to put my husband through it? Or my children? Do I want my family to tip toe around mommy’s OCD?

I wish life came with answers…

We completed the debt consolidation and when I walked out of the office, I felt… lighter. I thought I’d be upset that I just gave up all my credit accounts but oddly, I felt happy. And I still do, which amazes me. But at the same time, I felt tied down. This is a 4 year contract that I just signed to. It’s going to take me the next four years to settle my debt. And a part of me is struggling with the fact that I couldn’t do it on my own and in a way, I feel like I gave up. And at the same time, I’m struggling with the fact that I let it get this bad. I think this one is a huge reason why my positivity is clouded. I know I’m better than this. I know I’m much smarter. But my actions didn’t show it. It showed what everyone told me growing up. That I do nothing but mess up. I do nothing but make other peoples lives harder.

I look at my brother and he’s successful, he helps my mom pay her bills, he pays for his car. And I look at me, and I’m the opposite. And it hurts my heart. I thought I’d be better than this by now. I thought I’d be out of here, on my own. Showing everyone that they were wrong. And I’m not. I’m still here. I’m still fuckin up.

This is what happens when you raise a child with money and not love. My whole life has revolved around money. I was never encouraged growing up. Even in culinary school when I was obviously making amazing cakes, they still believed I could never learn how to bake. Hello, did you see the fuckin cake I just brought home?!

If it wasn’t for Martin, I probably would had already fuckin killed myself.

It’s 2:19PM. In my mind, I’m screaming I’m late. The day is almost over. I have this weird obsession with time. And this weird obsession causes me to throw tantrums. Like no other. It makes me incredibly anxious and it feels like how it would feel if my OCD went bad. It’s kinda crazy. It’s just time. But I guess it ties in with the whole fuckin up all the time. I feel like every hour has to be productive or I’ll never be anything with my life.

I don’t have “days off”. My “days off” consist of working on my blogs; getting my PR up, networking, applying to more paid blogging companies or doing laundry or cleaning my room. Every “day off” I have, I make lists. Lists of things I have to do that day.

I wish for once, I could just have a day where I didn’t make a list. Where I didn’t have “things to do”. Where I just didn’t watch the time. Where I didn’t have to think. That would be amazing.

I hope my positivity comes back. Soon.

My OCD works funny when I’m sick. I’m much more aware of things. Depending on how sick I feel at that moment determines how much I’ll freak out.

For example, yesterday after waking up after my nap. I had to pee really really bad and when my dad’ takes baths, he moves everything everywhere and it really really bugs me. So my hamper was behind the door so every time I tried to open the door, it would bounce back at me because of my mesh hamper and I had to pee bad at this point. So I just pulled down my pants and pee’d even if I was playing bounce back with the door. Of course after peeing I started freaking out about if my pj pants touched the toilet. And I got a bit stressed out because I didn’t remember. But as soon as I got back to my room, I figured it couldn’t had and left it alone. I actually have been trying to suppress that one thought for about 12 hours now. I’m sure it wont fully go away until I wash my blankets that I sit on, on my chair. But hey, whatever!

And while I was napping yesterday, I felt so sick I just didn’t care. I was in my home pj outfit (yes, I have two different sets of clothes; my home outfit and my sleeping outfit) and I laid on my bed and went to sleep. I felt so miserable I didn’t care if I was getting anything contaminated. It felt great but at the same time, it made me a little sad. I’m not even able to nap on my own bed when I want to…

The reason I bring this up today, is because my husband wanted me to go to his house today.

I avoid going to his house because of my OCD. It’s not really just his house, I avoid going to anyone’s house. I avoid going to my own living room. Because I just don’t know how clean it is. Everyone elses definition of clean is far different from my own.

And we always get into this mini arguments about it. He knows I don’t feel comfortable being there. And even now that I’m sick, I know it’s going to freak me out even more. I’m sure I’m going to be paranoid and itchy and irritated. And it’s just going to make him sad that I’m being OCD while I’m there, when he knows I will be!

If I could take a vacation from my OCD, believe me, I WOULD. Without even thinking twice. I know it’s unfair to him. But do you ever wonder how unfair it is to me? I’m robbed of the little things in life I can’t even do. I wish my life was normal. I wish I didn’t have this type of thinking. I wish I could just make this all go away. But after 6 years of wishing, it’s still here. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m too tired and discouraged to even think of ways to minimize it anymore. I’m just waiting for the day I hit rock bottom again and just get too tired to even listen to it anymore. But with the stress I’m under, I doubt that will happen any time soon.

So I decided to edit some pictures, draft some entries and maybe go to the waterfront or somewhere to walk around with my husband and enjoy the sun.

Well he calls a little bit after I’m done editing and drafting to tell me that Kay called him about the bill he missed a payment on, and that if he didnt pay it by Monday then they’d send his name to collections.

Last night I was feeling like challenging myself and trying to see if I could kick my OCD as far as touching things in my room that werent “clean”. For example, my makeup in my makeup drawer. I hate that things I thought were once clean, suddenly arent and I’m extremely hesitant to touch them. Hello I’ve touched them before, what makes now so damn different?! Argh.

But once I got that phone call, my anxiety went up and so did my OCD. As far as today is concerned, any hope I had of trying to kick my OCD I can kiss goodbye.

I need to manage this somehow. I know what’s causing it and I know the source of the problem is difficult to solve at the moment, but I cant keep acting like this. It’s not going to help the situation, its just going to help the stress drive me more insane .