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The winding path out of here

7 May 2018 | Post A Comment

Today isn't a bad day. I've been having some of these lately but I can't let myself get too excited. There's every chance I'll come crashing down tomorrow and I don't want to add any unnecessary height to fall from.

But sometimes when my mind isn't full of that one shade of black, it is very tempting to let my thoughts venture into the future and what it might be like to be burdened less heavily by mental illness.

This isn't easy, because I don't know any different. My thoughts have always been poisoned by OCD and it's friends and if I can continue to drag myself from their grasp I don't where that will leave me. I don't know who that will leave me.

It's so hard to imagine an existence where my OCD won't be triggered into overdrive multiple times an hour. I don't know if that is even a possibility. Is a future free of checking for exits and toilets and escape routes too much to ask for? Will I ever live without the fear of my next tumble into darkness and away from reality. Will I ever be able to experience an enjoyment that I am a part of instead of floating above in my world of alternate racing thoughts or that barren, numb nothing. Sometimes I wonder if there will be a future me who won't have to explain that small cut on my hand was just an accident, I promise.

When a mind has been lost to illness as long as mine the path through the darkness can never be straight but winding and complex. Each bend blocks the view of some strange unknown. If you sprint towards futile imaginings of what might be you will remain lost or fall. I suppose the only way out is one small step at a time taken with a sense of curiosity and hope.

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