I was going to take some time today to blog about having another baby (wahey!) and some interesting dynamics that have exposed themselves since then but I really feel that I need to finish the part of the story I left off at before looking forward. It’s probably the most complex part of the story to write about, convoluted and mirky and extremely personal so bear with me (yet again) as I sort through memories and time and try to give useful insight into our life with OCD. Read more
It’s finally Fall. One of my favourite times of the year. The air smells delicious, I can finally wear scarves and toques while taking Matilda to Kindergarden (prompting a child there to ask if I’m sick. No child, geez. I just like being cozy, ok?!) Candles and tea are very appropriate and I can stuff my face with all things pumpkin. Fall, however, for the past two years, has also brought with it sudden, random moments of panic – constricting chest, shortness of breath and vivid fear. I have been sitting on writing about this next part of our story for months. It’s still hard for me. I am still recovering, two years on and that surprises and frustrates me but that is just the way it is. So, bear with me if I have to take a break to cry in a corner and then remind myself of the miracle of the past two years. Read more
… it’s a very good place to start. I may judge you a little if you didn’t just sing along. (But before that, a little preamble)
The first post I wrote about our experience with OCD was so well received and I am touched that so many people took the time to either write me or others in my family about how it moved them. Turns out, though, writing about something as fluid and personal as mental health is harder than I thought. It’s hard to structure something in a coherent format that you are living with day to day, where experiences and thoughts flow into each other and do not fall into neat categories. So this post will simply describe how Patrick and I got together and what role OCD played in our relationship. I’ll then write another post detailing how things spiralled out of control. Once that’s done, I’ll start looking more into specific topics of living with OCD.
Now to the beginning:
I can remember the first time I ever saw Patrick. My parents had moved to Cologne and I was visiting them from Berlin. Read more
I’m sure you’ve heard it a hundred times. I’m sure you’ve even said it. Talking about how it drives you crazy if the forks aren’t always in the ‘fork’ spot, or if a picture is just slightly crooked. How you have to iron your underwear, even though you know that just isn’t sensible or how your ‘Twilight’ books, all from the same publishing house in the same series are not all the same height (seriously, Atom, what’s up with that?!) And you know, I get it! I really do. I used to say that, too, (although my character is about as far ordered as you can get) and I used to think nothing of it.
Until I started dating Patrick. Read more