#womenwritersoftumbler

[thealmosttherapistwholosthermind]

Recesses of Me With OCD

In my brain I scream, Oh please, set me free! But the jailer is always me.

I can’t step aside, elusive is outside. Defeated, alone, resigned.

I stay in my vest, ‘cause you’ll think I’m a pest. Review, ruminate, second guess.

Trapped inside my mind, craving chats that bind. “You offend” fear lied. Wait…did I?

You think I don’t care. I stammer and stare. Really, I long to share.

Yearning for our fate, with open gates. Secretly sensing we’re best mates.

I can’t bridge the gap. Can you make a map? Reassurance won’t let me fall flat.

You’ll do all the work. I worry and warp, convinced I am a twerp.

What is wrong with me? Is my inner plea. Is this how I am destined to be?

An affection hoarder? What keeps the border between you and me?

Oh yeah…I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Social Anxiety.

_

A life of its own. Forever o’ergrown. I have learned to let it be.

And live behind glass, while longing to ask: Let us bear our souls intimately.

Make me clean, God, please. Brush teeth ‘til they bleed. Wash ‘til my skin recedes.

Yes, I have those. It’s starting to slow, ‘cept when sinister germs come close.

Waves of shame slay. Focus on the way. Must say novenas of the day.

Saints these and Saints those. Father, Son, Holy Ghost. For my soul, please repose.  

Hours on research gate. Lost in a debate. Compulsive research of my fate.

Culling symptom lists, of me to make sense. God, am I a narcissist?

Down the rabbit hole. Lost touch with my goals. The psyched ward ate my wounded soul.

Gave me side eyed looks, labeled me a kook, my quirks the doctors all mistook.

What is wrong with me? Is my inner plea. Is this how I am destined to be?

It’s Hell, this disorder, fortifying the border between you and me!

F*ck you, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Social Anxiety!

_

I’ve tried to break free with ERP. Torture excruciating.

Then came CBT. It never helped me. Pulling me farther out to sea.

Perhaps ACT impacts, with values on track. Head out of my *ss, I’m back.

IFS reset. Now my parts at rest. Self-leadership provides a nest.

A True Presence be. Coupled with me, found my celestial nobility.

It’s quite the hike. I’ve learned my might. Gained my inner sight.

Even with my crown, I still fall down. Tumble, suffocate, nearly drown.

Again, I rise, with eyes on the prize, to walk the earth humbly and wise.

What is right with me? I’m starting to see. Who I am destined to be.

Life’s getting shorter. Action was in order desperately.

Social Anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you won’t beat me.

_

With wings pain once bore, today I soar. Balanced, centered in my core.

Joyfully, I sing. I am coming clean. My dark recesses disclosing.

A beacon of light, to provide sight, for others stuck in flight.

And you I see, too. What you’re going through. I’m supporting your inner coup.

Depth to hold dear. I’ll draw you near. Your story I want to hear.

You can’t offend. I will only tend to the places where you bend.

Let there be an us, pure and free of lust. It will be marvelous.

Friends’ everlasting, no longer casting ourselves in roles and acting.

I have found me. Allowing eyes to see journey for destiny.

Down with the border. No longer a hoarder, I’m giving of self completely.

Social Anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you are not me.

But with me you’ll always be—separately.

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