OCD

Hooray for The Mighty!

This past week I had a story  published on The Mighty. I love that site because the founders are truly on a mission to destigmatize illnesses of all kinds, both mental and physical.

When they agreed to post my story, I was excited. It’s my goal to become an advocate for those with OCD. I’m not sure I’m up to the task because I’m definitely not mighty all the time. In fact, while I was excited to get the story published, I was also anxious. My OCD tries to get me to believe that if something good happens, something bad must follow. This is when I like to tell it: screw you! My OCD backed down a little bit when I said that.

Please check out the site if you can.

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Anxiety

Zeus Might Love Me

I’m pretty sure my mom’s cat knows I’m at DEFCON Dinosaur Extinction when it comes to my recent bouts with anxiety. He’s cuddling with me, asking about my day, and offering to do my laundry. That is why he sits on my clothing, right?

This is the same cat that once cornered me in a narrow hallway. Years ago (when I was an actual adult who wasn’t sharing her space with her entire family) Zeus told me that I was in his hallway. He did one of those throaty growls made all the more ominous because his mouth remained closed. Also, just a week prior he had torn a pair of my pants with my legs still inside them. Given the context I was afraid, so afraid that I called my mother over to rescue me.

“He’s throaty growling,” I said.

My mom laughed.

“His mouth is closed.”

More laughter.

I’m convinced she trains him in mischief-making.

Fast forward to the present day. Zeus is being nice. Like really nice. He sits on my lap and purrs. He pats my head knowingly. It’s like he understands that anxiety sucks and he’s there for me.

He might also be hungry.