Writing has no limits, imagination has no limits and words can conjure up a myriad of images and a sense of freedom from the brain strain. The O.C.D and P.T.S.D can be banished for a while.
OC, my constant “companion,” is a pea sized, mischievous and cute, childlike invention that lives in my thirty six year old brain.
I created him because I needed someone else to tell off about getting anxious several times a day. Before him, I was being vile to myself, obviously not conducive to creativity or remotely helpful to my self esteem.
True, it sounds ridiculous but O.C.D. is less of a depressing lodger to me when I write humorous children’s stories about it.
Please note that so OC doesn’t become too self-important, I call him Brainy in my work and he behaves himself!
My Mum scolds him too when he disrupts my work. Her index finger wags up and down and she stares ferociously in to my eyes. Ask yourself who’s more peculiar looking at those moments?
My lovely counsellor chuckles and says that it’s “adorable.”
She might also wonder if the family are completely bonkers but it raises a smile on a possibly draining work day for her so we all benefit.
It took me a long time and a lot of insistent counselling to realise that I could take inspiration from my O.C.D. and P.T.S.D to move forward in life and achieve my goals.
That sounds easier than it can often be!
In my more philosophical moments I can see that if everything happens for a reason then whilst the O.C.D. etc. arrived after a horrid time I can use my experiences in good, positive, constructive ways.
I have an insight that others don’t possess and I can communicate effectively.
I may have a long road to walk and OC and I might be together forever but the metaphorical glass is half full, not half empty.
I’m off to write a story…