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.”
xlovebecomesher: (Zooey)
The other day, as I was unpacking my mother's room, I stumbled across a old piece of writing. It was dated November, 1993 and titled "An Addition to My Family." In it, 3rd grade me detailed about how I had recently been a flower girl at my cousins' weddings (which would have been May 30,1993 and September 5, 1993) and how I was so excited that I had new cousins in my family. I even outlined the order of my cousins. 3rd grade me loved naming us in order: Michael, Sandy, Brenda, Charles, Heather, Susan, and Me (3rd grade me might have also been a bit OCD!). I even illustrated my story...quite adorable! My mother started telling me then I should be a writer. This would be her refrain most of my life to this day.

In 6th grade, I had to give a book report. I don't even remember what the book was called or what it was about but it had a cat in it. I chose to present my book report dressed up as the cat...complete with cat ears and a cat tail that I made my friend, Shawna, walk with me to CVS to buy. It might of been my bravest presentation to date. I also wrote a story about an alien hedgehog in 6th grade that I remember being proud of. I did love hedgehogs and porcupines. In 8th grade, I wrote my own autobiography, illustrated and everything. I was going to be a writer one day, I thought proudly.

In high school, I attempted poetry like any other moody teenager. I even had my love poem published in the high school literary magazine so that I could profess my love for the gorgeous senior in my photography class. It didn't work unsurprisingly; however he was kind to me (probably out of pity). I then discovered the world of fan fiction and fell in love with the idea playing with characters and manipulating them to do what I wanted. I created alternate universes for the Days of Our Lives characters, diving into creating my first love stories and sex scenes. Sex scenes written by a 16 year old who had barely been kissed but spent her days reading steamy romance novels made for some fun writing and some awkward reading! I published my writing on EzBoards and FanFiction.net under the mature pen name of PrettyCoolPrincess (seriously) and waited with bated breath for reviews to come pouring in. I made friends, people enjoyed my work, and even for a time, helped to run a fanfiction review website where I anonymously reviewed stories. Those were the days. I was sure I was going to be a writer and people all over would read my novels one day.

Then college came and with that brought a move to Baltimore, new experiences, classes to go to (or skip), friends to make, a sorority to start,  papers to write (or not), and everything in between. I dabbled in writing Harry Potter fanfiction but relegated myself to mostly a reader. I kept a livejournal to keep me sane through everything but the creativity and the enjoyment I found in writing disappeared.  I would try to write and occasionally could churn out a short piece but nothing substantial. The closest thing to a story was my attempt at NaNoWriMo one year a couple of years ago - impressively (at least to myself) even though I never won NaNoWriMo, I churned out 41 pages telling the (incomplete) story of my father and his deportation. Most days though, I was stuck creating plots in my heads for stories untold.

Now, I'm 28. I'm a special education teacher who spends her days writing IEPs, progress reports, emails, papers, livejournal entries, facebook statuses, and Gchat statuses full of quotes from my students, while planning a wedding to a guy I call my Doofuslove, and still spending time with friends and plotting stories and character descriptions in my head and on scrap sheets of papers. I still tell myself that I'm going to be a writer one day. However, the first step in being a writer, I've learned...is actually to write...and writing is not something I do much anymore outside technical writing, academic writing, or journaling. Thus my foray into last season of LJ Idol to rediscover my love of writing and who knows what else along the way. I'm not sure who I am as a writer anymore - I'm not the same girl who illustrated her stories with such joy, the moody poet, or the fanfiction writer who enjoyed playing with her characters but I'm excited to find out exactly who I will be as a writer as time goes on.
xlovebecomesher: (Snoopy Novel)
I've seen this done over the years and I think every time "oh, this would be so much fun to do and it would be a great way to get back into writing." And then I never do it for one reason or another...oh I'll never win or what am I going to write about? Who's going to vote for me? I don't really have time for this. So I forget about it and I think well one day I'll do it or I'll just practice writing on my own.

Sign ups just opened for Season 9, last season. No excuse, Hillary. I always say I want to write...here's my chance.

Thus, I'm officially signing up for LJ Idol!



May. 15th, 2004 05:52 pm
xlovebecomesher: (Default)
Heh - after months of working on this fic, I'm finally finished! Yes I know I'm a dork for writing Harry Potter fan fics (actually Draco/Ginny) but I don't care. This is my first one ever, so hope you like.

This is dedicated to my best online friend, Robyn, for inspiring to write this fic, pushing and nudging to get this done and for everything else you've done for me - it really means a lot to have a friend like you :)

Still needs to be beta'd - so if you know any beta readers, send them over lol.

So without further ado, I present, my first ever HP fan fic, Insatiable

Not suitable for children under 17 - warning smut ahead, read at your own risk )

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