Sorry for the lack of a full length blog, too much has happened and i took the opportunity to Launch a podcast
For #OCDWEEK I want to share some of my intrusive thoughts in order to show the yucky side of ocd, the side that no-one would want to claim they have. the following post was taken from my personal Facebook Page. I would be happy to answer any questions regarding OCD if you want to leave a comment.
Finally getting round to telling you about some intrusive thoughts… intrusive thoughts are common amongst people with ocd and people in general the difference is that most people can easily dismiss these thoughts as meaningless a person with OCD can’t and they need to do something (a compulsion) to stop the distress of the thoughts.
So last week I was sat in the cafe on lunch break at the Herbert and a mother and a baby was on the next table and my carer got me a coffee, I sipped the coffee and flinched as it was really hot. I then visioned my carer throwing the coffee in the baby’s face, I saw it happen, I heard the baby scream and yup it was awful but obviously its not real, I didn’t really do anything to get rid of the thought I just got on with it, but if I had this thought when I was at my worst I would be thinking about it all week trying to make sure that this scenario won’t happen, it sounds stupid cause that scenario is sooooo bizarre and its a waste of time trying to avoid something so unlikely. That’s what is horrible about ocd we as sufferers know that its illogical we are usually very intelligent but we feel that terrifying feeling that doubt that keeps the cycle going.
This is going to be very stream of conscious from me. I feel like I have stuff to say that may or may not be interesting to you.
Right so having full time care is essential in my life and I’m so lucky to have it and having this amount of care affords me freedom and independence. However I feel like it can also be very restrictive socially and perhaps emotionally. For example I’m depressed a lot and there’s times where I want to just disappear and there’s times where I could tear my home apart and times where I want to make stupid and reckless decisions. I can’t really do any of this. I don’t cry in front of people and I let everything sit. I have full on screaming fits inside.
Its kind of cruel that the people who know me most are paid professionals and that due to rules we can’t be friends, I’m thinking about counsellors here. Every counsellor I’ve met has seemed to like me, I’ve even made a couple counsellors cry when leaving, that kind of thing can’t be faked. I’m told I have value and that If I believe in myself I’ll find happiness but just when I start to believe my treatment is finished and I eventually wash away the closeness and love I feel during counselling. It is not a counsellors job to be responsible for their clients its down to the client, so I’m giving tools of which seem inadequate when put up against years of self hatred and internalised Ableism.
During my 6 month check up with my CBT therapist we discovered that I’m massively ablest not just against myself but every disabled person, I guess I really don’t want to be disabled but does anybody? I see adult disabled people acting lets say immature or embarrassing and I think that a few things happen in my brain. I see this behaviour as being perceived as representative of me and who I am, I look at disabled people and they are me and they are in the way and of course this is really horrible to put out but its not about disabled people its about me As in I’m in the way, my voice, my mannerisms disgust me. Dark as hell I know but that’s just the way I feel but we should always remember that feelings don’t equate to reality. Its hard all of this because evidently I’m my own worst enemy when I should be my own saviour, A romantic relationship wont save me from myself, a full time job wont either, meeting my idols wont, banging my head to the deepest of music wont. It all begins with me, I really need to find myself again and remove all the fear of being judged, its obvious that everyone gets judged, yes I’m very obviously spastic, when I’m stressed, angry, nervous or even excited I’m even more physically distorted and not the me I want anyone to see. I feel like I need to just have awkwardness more, talk to strangers and live like I am confident. A big part of me wants to be this cringey lads lad just so I can say I cant get any worse than that. I don’t actually want to be a lads lad, I just want to be me but I don’t feel that my body represents me. I want to contribute, I want to talk to you, I want to laugh, I want to be naughty in various ways. The question is, how do I get there, another question is, is that who I really am. I’m desperate to be known for my intellect, humour and my artistic world view, I’m well aware of how poncy that may sound. I guess I’m that used to being looked at as the disabled dude by most people that I just want so badly to show them and me that I’m a billion miles away from the shy recluse that I portray.
Thanks for reading!
Oh and while I remember this blog thingy was inspired by my friends video where Jennie discusses her journey in becoming a more confident speaker please check it out!
I was going to write a blog about what I’ve been up to since my last blog, however its taken so long for me to write that, by the time I wrote the second paragraph my mood had changed, this may be short as I want to get something out, it may be rubbish, it may come across as a bit pointless but its something.
I had a good summer, had an awesome time with my cousin staying at mine, I had a good time going to Ashington, the highlight of that was seeing my old respite care family, its hard to know what I’m supposed to call them. Basically they looked after me from the age of 1 till the age of 9 and they loved me to death it seems and I loved them. I only stopped seeing them because, I basically somehow thought my mam would die when I wasn’t at home. Anyway after a few years of trying to find them online, I found Bethany and then Celia and finally got the chance to thank them for what they did, I’m gutted that we didn’t stay in touch, alongside my family and schooling they played a massive part in my Development, Apart from my OCD worries, I only remember good times with Celia Dennis Bethany and Alex. I was very lucky to be part of this family, it helped my mam out immensely cause she was young and she had four of us at the time so having help with me would of helped the whole family out. Anyway I loved seeing all of them its just a shame Dennis isn’t around anymore. I brought back an old picture journal book that Celia kept for me, I’m going to get it scanned and I want to write some poetry inspired by the pictures. I really do appreciate those times because it was before I understood the world and I was happy and in a way I live and succeed for that kid I know that kid wasn’t a problem, that kid deserved love and happiness and so do I.
I came back from Ashington with my gran and my little sister, I loved having them here I loved being a big brother and showing them my independence. I hope they can come back sometime. I wish it happened sooner like 5 years sooner my dad and I were talking about it but I moved into my bungalow the same month he died… the selfish bastard!
Since September I’ve been attending a media art and music type course, not to sound stuck up but in all honesty I’m way over qualified for the course but its something I suppose. I also started an introductory counseling course this week. I’m much more optimistic about getting something from this course, I don’t think I’ll pursue an actual career in counseling but I would love to be able to perhaps volunteer and help others with mental health, I know how terrifying and shitty it can be to go through depression and anxiety, I also know how life changing counseling can be. I may not end up being a great professional counselor but I’ll probably be very disarming and relatable.
Currently my mood is better for Writing this, I think I’m learning that I feel useless if I don’t do anything creative but at the same time I put off doing something because a part of me doesn’t think anything I can do will be good enough therefore whats the point in doing it and what’s the point in starting something if I’m not going to finish it. Its been a weird couple of weeks.
You see, since july 2015 I’ve wanted three things. 1 to be busy. 2 a new Korn album and 3 to see Korn live again.
Well now I am studying and performing 15 hours a week. Korn are releasing a new album next month and have put out 3 songs already. I’ve also bought V.I.P tickets to meet korn and see them play in December. Yet with all of this I’ve been feeling awful, very dark and greyed out and I understand that these feelings are classic depression, however I have no way out, it makes sense when they say that the way out is through. Depression is so old and unoriginal and that’s what annoys me, I can write about it but I’m writing nothing new, but all I can say is that, it is what it is, it is as much a part of me as Cerebral Palsy is, neither define me and I exploit both to create something better.
Love Peace and Sexy times!
Dear life, go get yourself!!!
Good Day Eyeballs of the internet, I’m here to try and un-confuse myself and give you a general sense of where my head is right now. My previous blog was utterly depressing but it was honest, Life is a lot better now, I have a new wheelchair which I can actually Fucking drive! its awesome, its as good as being able to walk.
I have been getting out at least twice a week, with and without help. I managed to take myself to the local train station that was a huge achievement for me, I am well aware of how small that sounds and words cant do it justice, a few months ago I was absolutely crippled with anxiety and thought that I would continue to need more and more support. Now I feel like I want to go out independently and I can. I’m even contemplating doing some marathons for charities I’d even go as far as saying that I want to do the 2017 great north run.
I was a Pirate a couple of weeks ago, I was a pirate and a shrimp… can shrimps be pirates? Can pirates be shrimps? These are the things we fail to answer in our quest for the trivial things in life!.. Allow me to Elaborate, Last summer I joined a performance group with the intention to make friends and make music for their shows. Well, I made a bit of music for their show in October and then I somehow got talked into being in their last play Entitled ”Polly The Pirates Perfect Pet” it was aimed at children and I have to admit I really Enjoyed it. Not so much the performance but just feeling part of something.
A few Weeks ago I was contacted by a new online publishing site and I have somehow impressed them enough for them to publish one of my poems! That felt awesome. I honestly do not write the things I do with a view to have them published. The fact is that I could express myself through poetry before I could verbally express anything with a glimmer of substance and that still stands today, I write what I cant easily verbally convey. So to be contacted by a stranger out of the blue for what I consider to be a therapeutic tool was hugely flattering.
Musically and creatively in general I feel baron and its weighing heavy on me at the moment. I call myself an artist but I don’t create a lot, I call myself a musician but no music is being done. I start projects but quickly get stuck. I think the problem is that, I released what I consider to be my best work for my dissertation. It wasn’t perfect but it had a clear message and I recorded the vocals in a recording studio with professional equipment. Where as now in terms of subject matter I am very cautious of expressing my social political or Spiritual beliefs because if I’m honest I don’t have any strongly held beliefs. I jumped into the world of conspiracy theories a few years ago fell down the rabbit hole as they say and you can’t convince me that there’s not an element of truth to a number of theories but once you start trying to convince others that we are ruled by beings that use magic to gain power, than you have to slow down and question how stupid you are making yourself look. “truthers” will hate me for saying this but perhaps we find what we want to find in a lot of this shit. Again I’m not denying that conspiracies don’t happen, they do.
So I’m in a very strange place musically, I want my music to have a message, a meaning and purpose but I currently don’t have a purpose or cause to write for. That doesn’t mean I’m happy with the world is, far from it I’m angry about how messed up the world is but I don’t see a solution, spontaneous peace, love and compassion does not happen. In terms of my equipment I really shouldn’t have any complaints although I have been avoiding using my studio monitors for months due to an irrational fear of fire for which I need to grow a vagina and confront. This shouldn’t be stopping me from creating music but I guess I tell myself If I can’t mix the song properly there’s no point in starting it.
Well that was fun wasn’t it?! If you read this go ahead and give yourself a high five!
Peace, Love and sexy times!
I began writing this on the evening of Valentines day. I’ve been feeling like this for awhile but was unsure what to do about it. On one hand we live in a society that looks down at men for showing any sign of insecurity and we are pressured into always putting on a show of strength. On the other hand, I learned in CBT that bottling shit up can make my anxiety much worse! This is not a happy post.
“I don’t want to be this but I wont let this build up inside of me”- Corey Taylor
before we get to the meat of things let me explain my living situation to give you an idea of how I live. I live on my own my family all live in Northumberland. I graduated from Edge Hill university which is in the northwest of England. I live in Coventry after attending a specialist college where I met a lot of my friends I have friends scattered around the country and a cluster of friends live in Birmingham. I have full time care support with live in carers who are entitled to two hours break per day. My main carer currently lives with me for three weeks a month with another carer living with me 1 week a month. My main carer on the whole is fantastic but he doesn’t drive, the other carer has been caring for me for about 3 years and she was an awesome carer but I don’t feel like I can ask her for as much as I could and long story short I appreciate what she’s done for me but its time for a change, oh yeah she doesn’t drive either. If I do feel like going out I have to arrange it with my care company or use public transport. I currently find it really hard to drive my wheel chair as my chair just doesn’t fit me anymore and so I’m not seated correctly and I look so uncomfortable and I feel it. I also have really bad social anxiety,
I feel so alone. I feel like this might well be it for the rest of my life and its eating me alive and I do anything I can to distract myself from the despair I feel every night around bed time. Which is why I’m trying to write this post on an evening, or more likely over a few evenings, I want to feel this shit and puke it into sentences. I’ve been finding myself looking at my past and wanting to sell a limb to have what I had a couple of years ago. I ruminate on my previous relationship and the genuine love I received from my ex and how I didn’t appreciate what we had. In therapy my counsellor said that I didn’t love myself enough to make it work but I think that I wanted the best for my ex and that’s why I let her go, I pick this apart and believe that my OCD tricked me into wanting our relationship to be “perfect” and I see what we had for awhile was damn near perfect. I don’t know whether I will ever have another relationship, I don’t feel like I’m desirable to anyone. This scares me, I have no confidence, I don’t see why anyone would look at me in a romantic way. Is there anything less attractive that a guy writing about his loneliness. On dating sites I get matched with girls that say they want an independent out going guy who wants to travel the world. I’m none of that. Truth be told I don’t know who I am these days. I used to have a solid idea of how the world works and even dared to believe that I could do something positive for the world. Now it feels futile to believe in anything cause you’ll get fucked by your beliefs in the end. I wrote a poem some days ago called Different and disconnected and that sums up my overall mood lately.
Different and disconnected
I want to tell you how sad I feel.
I just want you to listen, I expect no answers.
I know I’m supposed to think positively, reality hampers this.
I’m disconnected from most of society.
Though I love my independence and individuality, would it be easier to fit in?
Become numb to the fact we’re all being fucked by the culture we consume.
I look like, not one of you, I feel like, none of you, I want like, all of you!
I want to feel whole, I want to repair the decay of self loathing.
I want to be me, but not me, in this broken body!
I’m written off so quickly cause I cant speak slickly.
I want to feel comfortable in public, I want to talk to you.
I want to believe I’m worthy of your time.
I desire the things of a 26 year old, while I live the life of an 86 year old.
I Have great mental capacity, its full of fear and negativity,
sure hope is in there somewhere!
How do I sell this? On potential? On good will?
I should just keep trying, just keep smiling.
Paint a picture of living, with the colours of my trying.
Distort my depression with positive lies.
Being disabled and looking as spastic as I do is a barrier for a lot of people. Having OCD is a barrier for people also, but imagine coupling those things together and add the borderline hatred for most things pop culture and my opinions on important world events, I feel that I’m poisoning the sea and killing the fish. I am who I am and I cant pretend and I wont pretend to be what someone else wants me to be. I wish I could be like the majority sometimes it might be easier to fit in.
The answer seems to be out there out of my front door, I need to meet new people, however I am very nervous around people some times to the point that I feel embarrassed to even exist. If you talk to me I’m probably going to stutter and stammer back at you, looking very pained doing so. I need to go out and do stuff though but why would I give myself all the stress and the feelings of not belonging of being everyone else’s inconvenience. It hurts not feeling you belong anywhere, you crave somewhere you feel that’s yours, you crave acceptance. When the world then rejects you from the get go its hell and that’s how it feels. Sometimes, a lot of the time I wish I was stupid like, clinically retarded, cause I’m guessing I wouldn’t want the things that I want in life, I’d be clueless to the world and I wouldn’t feel so hopeless.
I can feel something in me wanting to write something positive to counter act all this depressive bile. I know I’m not dying and therefore it could be worse. That is all the positivity I’m affording me for now. I need to air as much as I can, I can’t be the only person feeling this hopeless and I hope this post connects with other people that feel like me. We are not alone are we?
When ever I have a good time, if I spend time with friends, see a film at a cinema, see a comedy show or concert I’m elated at the event but when I see the event coming to an end I am overwhelmed by negative emotions, anger sadness and cold fear. It seems that I use gambling to distract me from all this and it works in fact it gives me something else to hate myself for. Addicts are almost always hurting and trying to relive what ever pain they are feeling. However we all know that addictions become a problem of there own and it’s a vicious cycle. in terms of my gambling, i feel like I’m in control because I have stopped on numerous occasions, but i am aware of the danger I could face and the problems it can cause I feel like if I felt this bad and had the opportunity to do all kinds of drugs without anything being recorded by care staff than I’d probably be your local lowlife junky. Sometimes I want to get up go out and disappear alas I live with carers and don’t have the ability to do this. Other times I feel like I want to get black out drunk, however the carer is probably duty bound to stop me when they feel ive had enough, that’s never a nice feeling, also I don’t want them documenting how sad I might appear, because I want help on my own terms, I want to endure as much as I can. I want control.
I’m Isolated. I find it really hard because I love my independence, I am really surprised I’ve been able to be so independent. I like living so close to the city. The problem is that I don’t have a social circle that I can easily access, plus I’m not the kind of person to confide my troubles in my care staff, they are from different backgrounds and boundaries are important with carer/client relationships, so sadness builds up and little things turn in to big things. When I meet up with friends, its definitely an event more than an everyday occurrence, shout out to all my friends by the way, when we’re together I feel much more alive. To you I’m Kyle, I guess because you don’t have access to my inner dialogue you don’t see me the way I do.
I guess I’m about due to finish this post, I guess in summary, I’m lost and scared. The positive ending to this, is for me to say something like, I know that I have the solution within me to overcome this rough patch, but if I’m honest I feel like I do have the strength to deal with my depression and OCD but I don’t know about long term happiness, I don’t know about romance, I think I want it too much.
I wanted to write this for therapeutic reasons, I’m not looking for pitty, but hey I’m open for advice. I know that I’m not alone with these feelings and I hope this can help someone else I suppose.
Love and peace
Just Thoughts #4 on Disability and Sex
The Vast majority of humans that inhabit the earth want to find romance, we are wired to want to be desired. I belong to a minority in society who are not often viewed as physically desirable. Sex, Love and disability is a subject I have wrote about extensively, it is a subject I am passionate about obviously. I am sick at disabled people being treated as if we all ought to be in bed by 9pm and as though finding a person with a disability attractive is some how a fetish or down right wrong.
Ladies and gentlemen and everything in between, disabled people in terms of love, are just like you, your not a sexual deviant if you find a disabled person hot. The problem is not that disabled people are not generally attractive, it is that media creates the illusion that disability and sexuality is some how not “normal” and indeed, we are not portrayed as sexy we are either to be pitied or inspiring, never to be fucked.
When the world disregards your human need to feel sexually appealing to others, when society mocks others for finding your body type attractive it is hard not to want to find a way to accept that, romance and therefore sex, therefore children and therefore a family of your own may not be in your life. Yes this is my personal feeling sometimes. I’m sorry to sound so depressing but I’m certainly not the only disabled person that feels this way and I know that these kinds of feelings are not just exclusive to the disabled community.
Sex is a human right (or it should be) it is overrated and underrated in different ways. When sex is just sex, it is just sex the banging together of two bodies. But when sex is the act of being intimate, the sharing of your body with another human its kind of magical. Many people with disabilities can not access the dating world for a number of reasons such as their, care needs, lack of independence, lack of the confidence as a result of self consciousness due to their disability.
Sex workers in my opinion are a valuable solution to this problem. There is a horrible stigma around sex workers and the Documentary “Scarlet Road” addresses this, as well as the difficulties people with disabilities have in exploring their sexuality. Its far more than just a leg over, for example the documentary features a gentleman with a muscle wasting disability and he only has the ability to use his head, we see him explain that after seeing Rachel, (the subject of the documentary) he regains or rediscovers muscle movement. Furthermore this is a dude who wanted to end is life and seeing a sex worker gave him Happiness, Sex workers like Rachel are not “whores” or “sluts” they are fucking angels. Of course there are obvious drawbacks to paying for sex, its expensive, financially and in some cases emotionally, if seeing a sex worker changes your life, you are probably going to develop feelings for the women. It can also become addictive, if you have that type of personality. The biggest Drawback in my opinion would be that paying for sex may derail a person from even trying to find a romantic partner. There is no way a sex worker can offer anything as valuable as the feeling of love, being loved and being wanted. However, if you can afford a sex worker and you benefit from it then, why not?
If You Enjoyed this blog please check out the links below to my other work on this topic;
Love And peace
Korn, Family and OCD!
Hello people of the internet! I originally began this blog a few weeks ago and I’m hoping to get this finished today, so I can move on to more interesting topics. This blog is basically an update, about my time away with family and how my OCD reacted to all of that.
I was talked into going back up north by a very close friend, one of my first carers actually and he’s a guy that knows me well and has always looked out for me since the beginning. Bryan and his family are family to me. He has a very good understanding of mental illness which makes him kind of my go to person when freaking out. I could write a few stories here about how fucking nuts Bryan is but I’m hoping he writes a book one day so I’ll leave that to him. When Bryan asked me if I wanted to Come Home A big part of me was instantly stubborn to the idea, I felt like it showed my weakness or something having to go back and effectively be “looked after”. I suppose I’m just proud and I take pride in the fact I’ve made a life for myself at the other end of the country from my family, when sometimes looking back, very few people expected me to do as much as even survive let alone graduate from a mainstream university, University of the year at that. So having to “go home” felt soft, and I have a voice in the back of my mind that I constantly fight, it’s a voice that thrives off me failing it reminds me of how much of a waste I am, I heard that voice gloating “ see everyone knew you couldn’t manage”. Its really stupid but it was there, on the flipside when Bryan said that he could sort things out to get me back around my family it just felt right it felt safer, I was having panic attacks everyday, my OCD was spiking massively I needed to be around family. It seems that the cause of my panic attacks was that there was a clash in my medication, mirtazapine and Diazepam Do not mix.
Rather than trying to chronicle my time with family, I’ll keep it brief, as I’m finding it really hard to make any of this seem meaningful. Being around family helped and it was good real life exposure. I found it difficult talking about OCD for a few reasons. I don’t know when I am talking about OCD as a form of reassurance and therefore becomes a compulsion and when I talk about it to help people understand. I question whether my family need to know I think they do, however the tricky part is people actually understanding and taking it seriously, as serious as my cerebral palsy, they both affect my brain, only one effects my muscles not receiving the message from my brain and the other floods my brain with ego dystonic thoughts. Where I come from its very mind of matter and if your mentally ill your looked down on. I can deal with that but I don’t think I can face it with my own family.
People don’t get that everything in my mind during a OCD spike feels real and what it does to me is that it takes every ounce of dignity away from me. I fully understand that my thoughts are not real but my brain makes them feel real. I get the impression that some of my family don’t know I have OCD or do know and it kind of feels like a dirty secret. I guess I treat it that way as I feel I should be ashamed of my OCD mind I think in a weird way I’m glad of the shame and guilt I feel,it proves that I don’t desire my thoughts. With all that in mind it was really cool just to feel part of the family when I was in Ashington.
However I cant escape that I feel like a burden, when I’m not paying for the care or help I receive. Family or not I just don’t feel like I deserve their help, I’m so broken and now my mind is broken, I really don’t see what I have to offer. There was one afternoon for definite that I was swallowed by suicidal thoughts when I was in Ashington, I was at my mams, I was thinking of how my mam has more children now and my illness is not fair on them. I can’t just go back home like anyone else I really don’t want to but if I did, it is no longer viable, its fucking cruel. I remember just wishing I was never born and it wasn’t teenage angsty bullcrap it was calculated. How am I supposed to talk like this to my family I don’t want them to hurt, I don’t want them to worry, I want them to think I’m ok and I can manage, so fuck if I cant, that’s my problem.
On a happier note I had my cousin come back to Coventry, this was pre arranged as we were going to see Korn Play there 20th anniversary show with my aunty in Brixton London which apart from the tube and the travel was epic and an unforgettable night there is nothing like A korn gig to let out all the pent up negativity. My highlight Was screaming “all my life who Am I” at the top of my voice, in tears during the song Faget.
Having my Cousin Tyler with me for a few weeks was really cool far less awkward as I was expecting, he seemed to want to be here and it was nice not feeling so alone. It definitely showed me that I may want to rely on other parts of my family more.
So what now, currently I’m managing much better than I was, I’ve joined a local performance group, I am to do music and sound design for there show in October. Sorry for this jumbled mess and thanks reading. I’m hoping for my next blog to be about the OCD Community.
Tweet me @munkyle
Hello Good people of the internet. I have been trying to force myself to write about how awesome Completing my degree was. However in all honesty, a post like that would be very plastic. I have so much going on with me now and I need to vent and spue how I feel inside. I can’t promise an intellectually stimulating article here and now but I promise you my honesty.
I am doing things not to please me, but to avoid feeling scared. I feel like OCD has made me its bitch. I’m currently sitting with the door that leads to my garden open, not because I’m Hot, but because I can get out should a fire or a gas leak occur. I’m tired, so tired of being scared of everything that I can be scared of.
My current Obsession seems to be that I could go schizophrenic at any second. I’m pretty Sure that it doesn’t Work Like that. I analyse everything in my environment and try to figure out the Source of the sounds and if I can’t find where the sound originates I fear I’m “hearing things” and I’m inevitably become a psycho and therefore hurt others, my family will disown me and I’ll be hated by everyone. I will not read anything about Schizophrenia because, I will convince myself further that I am heading that way.
I can’t read a lot anymore to be honest, last week I found a lump like thingy on the side of my hand, it didn’t bother me until someone posted an article about Signs of cancer in an OCD support group which I feel was very unwise. I Had all the symptoms but I was aware that most were due to my medication and cerebral palsy but number 6 on the list noted about lumps. I was immediately Triggered. I envisioned myself being told I had cancer and that I had months to live. I booked an appointment to see a doctor on that afternoon and before getting to the lump we discussed being referred to IAPT for CBT for my OCD and was told it could take years to see a clinical psychologist but I could see trained CBT counsellors which is something I suppose. After the discussion about CBT, I anxiously enquired about the lump on my hand, it is just a wort. I think I’ll Live!
See I know that all of these thoughts are irrational and that there would be nothing I could do even if I had Schizophrenia or if I got Cancer, I mean for fuck sake everything causes cancer so am I going to be scared of everything. No!, Maybe.
I’m extremely frustrated about this shitty situation. I should be happy I have just found out that I received a first for my dissertation EP which you can stream or download here. I made such valuable connections this past year at University. I got the highest grade I could get for my most important piece of Work, all while going through some kind of mental breakdown.
The most depressing thing that I’m faced with is not being able to access the positivity I had in the past I do not have a lot of self belief and I hate how pessimistic I have become. I want to put together a CV but that would mean I would have to write down my skill set, my skill set in the real working world doesn’t feel very employable. I’m a dude that cares a lot, that can make sounds but isn’t exactly trained in music. I like people but I’m scared of them. I love children but my OCD uses this as ammo to hurt me.
I want to help other people with mental illness somehow. I want to meet people and help myself through helping them. I need a purpose. Right Now my soul purpose everyday is to avoid feeling scared.
Somewhere inside of me I know I’m better than this, if I come out of my mind for a second I can see I am doing everything I can to find a purpose, to heal and to live. I’m hoping to either get support or volunteer for the mental health charity mind. I’m Also excited to be applying for a Canine Partner which if all goes well will help me regain some self confidence.
These dogs are awesome and the charity really changed my friends life you can read her story here and donate to her fundraiser.
I expect more of myself. I crave structure it seems. I want to get better pronto! But life does not work like that. I deserve a break yet I don’t do breaks well. Everyday has to involve some sort of task for me, this is probably not unusual. For me, I think its anything to get me out my head. Like “I have OCD Get me out of here”
Thanks for reading, Love and peace
Hello all its been a long time since I’ve blogged anywhere on anything. Not just because I have been busy being a student but because I have been busy understanding things in my life,
So Depending on who reads this you should know I have a physical disability which is just a part of my life and mostly does not bother me. I have always suffered from bouts of depression and anxiety and realistically depression and anxiety are a lot harder to deal with than my physical disability.
may is the month for raising awareness about invisible illness, with that in mind In this blog I want to share with you how I discovered I have, obsessive compulsive disorder, specifically Pure –O.
Honestly I believe the ignorance and the lack of awareness around this illness, increases its impact ten fold. Until researching this and its symptoms I really had no clue OCD could manifest in so many ways, In fact I perceived it as more of a quirk than the debilitating illness it is. Before I get into this, I’m not a doctor and everyone’s experiences are different, I will be including links that have helped me verify I had OCD before being diagnosed by a doctor. If you relate to any of the following, don’t suffer in silence, this is an illness, this does exist, print out any links I share and show them to trusted friends or family members or if your brave, your doctor. Furthermore, I can’t express how frightened I am of people getting all of this twisted, with OCD the content of the thought is irrelevant, it does not in anyway mean I desire to carry out or act on my thoughts quite the opposite. I fear them so much I would do anything to prevent anything like my thoughts ever happening, anyway, lets start from the beginning.
It was the first Sunday of February this year and I am a student so obviously I was procrastinating, scrolling through my facebook news feed and I scrolled past an image of a friends child, from this moment, it feels like my life changed, for some reason my mind changed this image into a naked child! Holy shit, The thought of a naked child entered my mind this absolutely repulsed me, I thought it meant I was either losing my mind or a danger to children, at the time of having this initial thought I had a panic attack cause I couldn’t deal with the thought, throughout the panic attack. I just thought my life was over the very thought felt and to me feels as bad as taking pleasure in such thoughts ( a thought Process known as “thought Action Fusion”). After the attack and throughout that day I ruminated on that thought reasoning that because I was so disgusted disturbed and distraught by the thought meant that I would be ok. this helped calm my anxiety for a tiny amount of time, but then the thought of the thought and it’s possible meanings flooded back, so I told myself, if I do not figure this out. if this feeling doesn’t go away this fear doesn’t go away. I will go up north (where my family live and confess it to a friend, and beg him to kill me if this Thought that I never asked for or had any day over made me a Paedophile… (my friend would never do this, I now see the stupidity in that idea) I was frightened to google these thoughts, in case I would find out that I was either legitimately losing my mind. or something I detest and can’t ever be ok with. I didn’t really eat that day.
I got very little sleep that night, I was trapped in my head. To me all of this was very real I was convinced if I told anyone, the nature of my thoughts and then the subsequent thoughts that they would deem me I paedophile. I couldn’t step back and realise that these thoughts made me ill, I was sweating and freezing, I have openly campaigned against child abuse, so there was and is no reason for anyone to think I would be capable of taking pleasure from such thoughts let alone acting on them. Oh and one big thing, I’m physically confined to my wheelchair which made and makes my worry so irrational and I see that. Anyway I remember my carer coming in the next morning to get me dressed I told her I was ill and to come back later, I remember every sound being loud, She asked me if I wanted headache tablets when I told her my head hurt, I replied no “inside my head hurts” she suggested I see a doctor and seemed frustrated out of concern that I wouldn’t. how on earth do I explain this I thought. I had never felt so alone that first week was a living hell.
Once I got out of bed I emailed my universities counselling service to ask for an emergency appointment. I thought “well its confidential” and that if my counsellor thought I was a danger he’d do something about it. I told him about the thought and he did the best he could just to listen but I was annoyed I wanted reassurance, that’s not his job though. Neither of us knew what to do.
Luckily after googling unwanted thoughts I discovered the term “intrusive thoughts” I found this article I cried while reading the article, I think I read it three times in a row, I cried out of relief, relief and empathy.
I wrote a comment on the article which simply read, “thank you Thank you thank you” the first person I told besides my counsellor was a friend who runs a social group I attend, I’ll refer to her here as “B”. I told her and started to cry and heave. She told me “Kyle I know this is not you its anxiety” “ you love children and would never harm them and since then she’s always been there for me. This friend will never get how grateful I am for her patience, if she just did her job I don’t think I would be anywhere near recovery, I sent her every link I found that related to me and we would talk through them.
Kati Morton is a professional mental health practitioner and I find her very accessible and calming.
There are many, many articles and videos I will link to at the end, however with out Rose Bretécher’s “Pure o A rude awakening” I wouldn’t have went to my GP. I’m not lying when I say this womens account of her experience with what I now know I have has become like a bible to me. I showed my mam, this via facebook and I think she said “Yup that’s you” after I told her all the gunk in my head a few days prior Sobbing heaving while Facetiming and Facebooking I sent her links to prove this wasn’t me. My mam never asked for proof, she didn’t need it she knew and knows who I am. Rose has a book coming out via unbound titled “Pure” I have backed the ‘crowd funding’ of this book.
I showed the article to B and she said something like”well this is the answer” she of course reminded me of how brave I was. I found being called brave hard to understand. I was so frightened, I felt like a different person, like life had stopped. I felt guilty I felt shame and I know this is common with OCD. B wrote me a note to give to a doctor and we printed multiple copies of the article, one for my care plan so my carers could see it, one for my doctor and B also showed my learning facilitator’s
Katie D’ath is an OCD specialist. In this video she really explains how OCD works. Seeking reassurance is something I do and this is a mental compulsion to help relieve my anxeity either by asking someone whether I’m okay or by reading about OCD
I made an appointment to see a doctor, I ended up seeing a nurse, and I don’t mean to be mean to nurses, however this nurse did not handle me with great care at all, she looked over the note that B wrote and kind of interrogated me, the reason I had the note was so I didn’t have to speak my thoughts, however the nurse pretty much forced me to verbalize my thoughts. After this she asked me what I’d been watching on tv. I bumbled through my Netflix history this made me feel so sick and angry She nodded not really listening and turned to a computer looked up my meds and said something like “well I’ll book you into see the doctor” but I think its your medication. I’m sorry but What I crock of shit. The medication that she claimed was the problem I have been taking for 7 fecking years without a problem. I saw a doctor about a week later. Below is a document I wrote and gave to my doctor to explain my head at the time.
Once I realise the thoughts are just thoughts, that I never asked for and they are apart of a glitch in my brain I feel better. However that does not stop the glitches, the glitches in my mind. Over analysing images in my mind. Then over analysing the over analysing, this in turn convinces me I must be suppressing, at this moment I’m forgetting this is part of what ever malfunction my brain has. The horrid thing is, is that, the last line will be turned against me, it will somehow be part of the grand cover up. If I was my phobia that are embedded within my thoughts, I would not feel this dead inside, I would not be scared of my own mind. I would be able to feel like I can live again. No these thoughts could never represent me as a person, there’s no rest right now from the internal burning questions that rationally I know the answers to. Look, all children are beautiful, I can find them pretty while being innocent, my brain though right now is twisting the meanings trying to convince me its not innocent and it means I am what I hate, last night, I saw my two year old sisters legs and innocently thought “chubby Cute” but like a beast my brain turned that against me. So then I wonder why and then I wonder why, it’s a malfunction, cause time after time I test and I check and there is no adult attraction it’s the malfunction. I wrestled with it last night in my bed, fought and thought I’d won told myself I’d never become, I’d never be one, closed my eyes saw beautiful women, felt normal again, only for obscene half visions to break me down. Don’t ask me to describe them, I don’t fully remember them. I’m told not to fight or suppress them but to ignore them so I tried then I questioned the morals of ignoring such obscene thoughts, I fight back with “I’ve told people if I was, I wouldn’t be telling people, I wouldn’t feel so horrified” it launches an argument with “your just hiding and confessing” it won’t listen. I suppose theres bittersweetness, in the fact that rationally I will never become and at worst this can only ever really harm me and no other person. It tells me, that it will and it will make me look at child porn, although I never have and I never will, it tells me, I scroll through facebook just to look at young girls, in reality I scroll through facebook out of sheer habit and boredom and its always been that way for years. It’s pathetic, if I was religious I would describe it as a demon, this is what I imagine hell to be like, there’s no escape, although it does take short breaks only to come back when I scroll past an image of a pretty child, the feeling I get at this point is panic it turns my stomach it tells me that if I scrolled past so quick, that, that means I’m running away, if I go back to check and find like always no adult arousal no adult attraction, it ask me why I had to check and round and round we go again.
I was So scared giving the doctor this but my carer and B as well as my mam told me this was important to share and the doctor would understand me, this was very very hard to believe I was convinced I was going to be thrown away, I was wrong. The doctor seemed concerned, concerned for me not about whether I was a danger. he said that he would refer me to a psychiatrist.
It was a few weeks until I saw the psychiatrist, in those few weeks I was lost just going through the motions OCD is often described as the doubting disease. I can totally get this. those few weeks and even now I doubt that I’m the good person I was before all this started. to me sometimes anything that has a remote chance of happening will happen in OCD logic. I have spent days reliving meaningless childhood events in my head for some answer and this hurts, its brutal. OCD is a bully it hurts, it changes themes once your mind finds away to deal with one theme, it’s a new worry, for example I started to worry whether I was going schizophrenic, not that I understand that illness. My OCD figured out that I fear losing control and would cause harm as a result of an illness this is very common. I’ve spent hours wondering whether strangers are real, listening to every sound and finding its source to quell fears of hearing things. I also obsess over my memory and the fear of having dementia, so I force myself to remember things that have just happened. So the stereotypical form of OCD, has obvious compulsions and”checks” such as cleaning and checking locks, my compulsions are all mental, the hearing, the memory testing the ruminations. I would never say Pure O was worse then the more well known OCD that would be very misleading, the level of torment and anguish is the same for the sufferer. The lack of public knowledge about pure o is shocking though.
When I first saw the psychiatrist we spoke for 2 hours nearly I mentioned Pure –O he quickly shrugged it off as he wanted to know me I think, after the 2 hours he told me it was anxiety an that he would refer me to another assessment For Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (See video)
So yet more weeks of waiting, I knew I had OCD and I knew it was Pure O but the lack of I diagnoses fed the OCD ammo, Yet Anxeity is a massive part of OCD, in fact OCD is an anxiety disorder which is also linked to depression.
On april 9th 2015 I went to an appointment anxious, worried as hell, while I was in the waiting room I filled in a mood chart then I got called into a room with the same psychiatrist as before and another doctor of some sorts, we spoke about my thoughts, which at this point centred more around my worries of going insane or developing dementia. I was asked whether I avoided stuff, I told them I was avoiding being alone. I explained that I never watched television but if I had to I was scared because I couldn’t determine what would come on unlike with Netflix. Strangely I was asked if I’d been in hospital a lot as a child, I was. Then she asked me if I was worried about things as a kid. I was obsessed with my mam getting cancer and dying. I was Worried for some reason that my dad would be murdered, therefore if I was at my dads and called on him and he didn’t answer I would automatically think of him being dead and then me being left at my dads house to die. In reality he just didn’t hear me. I was asked if I performed any rituals and apart from the mental checks I said there was nothing. The doctor said, well, the diagnoses is OCD and she wrote the phrase “I have OCD, this is an obsessional thought” she told me things about O.C.D that I already knew and encouraged me to learn about it, which would not be a problem giving the fact that I bled the internet dry of OCD anxiety and depression information while waiting for help. The doctor asked whether I wanted to tell my carer or whether she should tell my carer. I got the doctor to tell my carer as I wanted the clinical proof, not that my carer would doubt me. I would doubt me, I do doubt me and that is Pure OCD.
Before my diagnoses at the very beginning, it became apparent that I was not the only person suffering with symptoms of Pure O. for some reason I spoke about what was happening with me to a select few people who I trusted and they echoed empathy back to me, to have such people around me I can never explain my gratitude.
Going through what I have been through makes me angry hurt and hopeless, If I’m honest, until I realise that. I’m not alone and millions fight with this everyday and millions, live and live well with this. However Millions feel as lonely as I did, on that first Sunday and don’t have the support which I have had. I genuinely want to help those people who are struggling with any mental illness. My way of paying it forward if you will perhaps. If you are suffering in anyway please take care, please believe that you matter and you can get help.
VERY Useful links
Any questions/comments on this blog, tweet me @munkyle on twitter