Nov. 23rd, 2016

xlovebecomesher: (Brain)
"You look like you're here. You're talking to me, you're laughing in the right places, it feels like a normal conversation. But it's not. I can tell something is wrong." He watched her carefully, waiting for her to come back to him. She was one of his closest friends; they told each other everything but he always felt that she kept a piece of herself back from everyone and he never understood why.

She shook her head discreetly, attempting to shake the thoughts away. The thoughts never went away though despite the numerous head shakes and mental compulsions. "How did you know?"

"How did I know what?"

"That's something is wrong? No one ever notices when something is wrong with me."

"You space out. You look like you're a million miles away in your own head trying to solve some complicated math problem. This is not the first time you've looked that way; I've noticed this not just when you talk to me but when you talk to other people too. Talk to me. What is going on in that mind of yours?"

"I'm okay," she attempted to reassure him before changing the subject. She stood up and grabbed her jacket. "Hey, do you want to go get dinner? I'm hungry and you know how I get when I'm hungry! I'm in the mood also for ice cream for dessert. Doesn't that sound delicious right now? You ready to go?"

He sat in his spot on the couch refusing to move. "You're not okay."

She froze.

"Talk to me. I'm here for you; you know that right? Tell me what's going on. I want to help you."

"You won't understand. Hell, I don't even understand it."

He pulled her to sit down on the couch next to him and put his arms around her. "Tell me. Whatever it is, I'm here for you. Even if I don't understand, I'm here."

"What if I told you my thoughts scare me? Will you still be here then?"

"What do you mean?"

Something inside her burst at that moment. "What if I told you my thoughts play on repeat like a broken record? I can't let go of a thought and it just plays and plays until I want to scream on top of my lungs." She paused, catching her breath, collecting her thoughts.

He waited quietly for her to continue, stroking a strand of her hair. When she didn't continue, he prompted her with: "what kind of thoughts?"

"My thoughts start off with a question: 'What if I drove my car into a person?' or 'What if I was capable of hurting a child?'  Scenarios like that play out in my head on repeat. Some are darker thoughts than others. Then I think how could I be normal if I have those kinds of thoughts? I can't be normal. What if I told you I know that I'm not capable of doing any of those things but yet I keep having these thoughts so maybe I am? And then I have to find mental things to do to calm me down.  Do you know how alone I feel because everyone else can manage their thoughts but here I am and I can't stop my crazy thoughts? What if I told you that I have these thoughts while I'm doing my every day normal routine. All day, every day I struggle with my thoughts and I don't know how to stop my thoughts no matter what I do. Are you here for me then?" She turned her head away from him ashamed of what she just said, ashamed of herself.

"I'm here for you even then. I wish you had told me earlier that you were going through this."

"You would have thought I was crazy; you probably think I am crazy. I think I'm crazy. You're probably thinking you need to call a psych ward or something," she burst into tears, struggling to get out of his hold.

"No!" He held onto her refusing to let go."You're not crazy." She gave him an incredulous look through her tears. You're not," he repeated insistantly. "I'm far from a psychology major but you're not crazy. My cousin struggles with repetitive thoughts and anxiety which reminds me of what you're dealing with. You are not crazy and you are not alone. I am here for you."

"You are?"

"I am. Always. If you decide you want to talk to someone professionally, I will help you find someone. If you need someone just to talk to; you always have me. You don't have to struggle alone."

She sniffled. "Really? I haven't even told you half of my thoughts."

"I don't care. You're not crazy. You're you and I'm here for you."

"You don't want to lock me away?"

He laughed. "If I did that, who's going to make sure my hair looks good? Who's going to play wingwoman for me? Who would I get dinner and ice cream with?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me I'm not alone. I needed to hear that more than anything."

.....

This was written for LJ Idol: I need the struggle to feel alive. This is a fictionalized conversation between a good friend of mine and myself based on an actual conversation we had years ago. I have OCD and anxiety. My OCD manifests itself in obsessive, intrusive thoughts that to this day I've never truly shared to the full extent beyond my therapist, my husband, my mom, and my best friend.  For a long time, I simply thought I was crazy and I was so afraid to share my thoughts with anyone in fear that I was crazy. My friend was the first one to ever point out that I had a tell-tale sign when I was in the middle of an obsessive thought but it wouldn't be for another couple of years before I realized that my thoughts were due to OCD and could get help.

Megan Fox has one of the best quotes I've read that describes what it's like living with OCD and repetitive thoughts which I've incorporated into this prompt. "People can’t imagine what the struggle is really like, when you can’t let go of a thought or a word. All day and everyday. And I can engage in a conversation with someone and seem like I’m present, and the whole time I’m in my own head, thinking about something else, worrying about something else.”

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