sleep

Waiting for sleep

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This evening I didn’t have anything that needed to be done.

I didn’t have any mistakes to rectify.

I’m not even sure why I exist when there’s nothing left to do.

There’s things I could do. Things that would matter. Things that are optional.

I have not done them however. I don’t see the point. I am just waiting for it to be time to sleep.

So my day can start again. So I can have mundane tasks I haven’t done yet. So I’m not limited by feelings of fatigue. So I don’t have an existential crisis. So I’m more than I could be today.

When OCD crosses the line, by a million miles

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OCD is, simplified, obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviours (rituals) that are done to get the obsessive thoughts to fade.

For me, the rituals were only time consuming, irritating and got somewhat in the way of functioning like an average person…

However, what happens when the rituals themselves generate so much distress from the fear of not doing them correctly that I avoid doing them? I shutdown and stop functioning 😢

Things just don’t get done, including eating and drinking (don’t get me wrong, I do, just not as often, healthily or regularly) as they require a clean surface or tap to do.

I end up spending potentially hours in bed when I’ve already woken up just avoiding getting up and facing down the rituals.

I end up putting off having a shower because the rituals involved make it take five HOURS!

My flat ends up a mess as the anxiety of carrying a contaminated item over to the dustbin exceeds my threshold for acceptable distress.

Walking through a door becomes an exercise in avoiding bumping into the doorframe.

Just opening a door becomes stressful as the handle isn’t clean, so am I going to face down opening it even with gloves? Now, in 30 minutes, or in 2 hours…?

Using gloves or wipes becomes a guilt trip for the sensation of wasting them to avoid touching or clean something that doesn’t need it.

Sitting at my desk becomes avoiding raising my kneecap so high that it hits the underside of the desk, which I haven’t cleaned, yet, from a day or more ago.

Going to sleep becomes “will I be too contaminated to function when I wake up?”. So how about staying up a bit longer, like until 4am…

Being on the bus becomes will I brush against anyone? So if the bus is crowded I’ll wait an unlimited amount of time for a less busy one.

Putting my coat on becomes did it get contaminated because I was careless taking it off?

Putting pyjamas on becomes will pulling my shirt over my head to change contaminate my face? So I sleep in my clothes.

Resting my head on my arms becomes contaminating my head with whatever might be on the floor as my elbows brush against stuff. So it doesn’t happen, no matter how relaxing…

I just shutdown, stop doing anything, and try to work up the courage and energy to get up and face down another task until there is no longer a day to face down and life becomes just pointlessly existing.

I feel so guilty expressing my distress that I get even more distressed and become unable to form words. My mind simply prohibits it, making not speaking the compulsion.

P.S. About the title, it’s a reference to how unreasonable OCD is. The line being minimal impact on life. The distance past is how impactful it becomes. I love playing on common sayings to say something awkward. Although as I find myself explaining them a lot, maybe they get a bit confusing 😛, hopefully this one isn’t…

P.P.S. I even feel guilty about writing about my OCD, knowing that someone might spend time reading it, and so I feel compelled to thank you for getting this far. Thank you 🐭

Life on a ward, with severe OCD

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I do not want to be on a ward. Who does? I guess me less than some as I’m sectioned. Although somehow I went onto a ward voluntarily in the past!

I’m here because my OCD has become so distressing and disruptive that I managed to concern my local CMHT a lot.

My daily routine, so far is:

  • Wake up in the morning, then not get up as I don’t want to feel any contamination anxiety.
  • Say I don’t want breakfast (08:15) when a member of staff asks (I do, just can’t face down the anxiety of getting stuff off a shared food trolley, contamination).
  • Get up when a nurse comes along with meds, and take them (10:00-ish).
  • Wash my hands, and partway up my arms.
  • Clean my teeth.
  • Ask a staff member for my phone – it’s been on charge in the locked office overnight, for those who don’t know, possession of cables is prohibited as they are high risk items.
  • Do stuff on my phone until about 11:45, or 15 minutes before lunch time.
  • Hang around the dining area to try and get my cutlery before anyone else, and get to the front of the lunch queue. Fail? Not having a hot lunch, maybe sandwiches instead, the staff seem to notice and supply them so I have something…
  • Water? Do I have an uncontaminated cup and can face down using a shared sink. Spoiler: nope.
  • More phone stuff.
  • Now I’m fed up with my phone, at approx. 15:00 and ask (and get) escorted leave to the hospital shop (getting a sandwich, bottled water and a chocolate bar) and a short walk.
  • Water? Yep, got a nice clean bottle 😁
  • Next mealtime, same as before, waiting from 16:45. If I can’t get desert before my anxiety (contamination and noise) overwhelms me, I’ll just skip it. So “wait 5 minutes until everyone else is served” is the equivalent to telling me no!
  • More playing on my phone, and possibly taking a nap as there isn’t anything better to do.
  • More meds (I do have meds in the middle of the day, but can’t remember when).
  • Sleep, I finally knock off sometime between 09:50 and 11:30.
  • Flashlight through the window of the door in my room, staff checks, which never, ever, wake me up 😛

Don’t have a change of clothes on me. Was not planning to get sectioned when the home treatment team (part of the mental health crisis team) assessed me on Wednesday (it’s Sunday as I’m writing). Fingers crossed I’ll get unescorted leave, or at least longer escorted leave, to visit my flat tomorrow and get some. I’m not a fan of having other people go into my flat to get stuff. Don’t know why…

Oh, and I haven’t told my parents I’m here – it feels too embarrassing to be in hospital for anxiety. Trying to kill yourself is easier to explain.

I’m on medication again technically voluntarily, but more because I don’t want to see if they’ll inject me if I refuse. I am aware that I’m struggling with my OCD, a lot. Having memories of agitation and feeling suicidal from a past med that I took for all of 36 hours is making me want to avoid medication, can’t any longer though.

Bye for now. Sleep incoming… Unless there’s something pointless I can do on my phone instead, got 2% left. Sleep it is, probably, I’ve still got 2% 📱

Coping with sleep

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My number one coping strategy is getting enough sleep. Should I fail to get enough sleep for long enough I will end up too exhausted to use any other coping strategies.

I forgot to get my repeat prescription on time this week, and as I usually rely on the sedative effect of quetiapine to get me to sleep, I had a few bad nights – when waking up the trouble of trying to get back to sleep made it feel like I was struggling to breathe. I don’t think that was the case, but my mind gave the illusion of it, probably because it had trouble expressing the feeling of being unable to sleep.

Historically a week with sleep disruption results in me acting implusively, not always dangerously, but always in a way that I regret.

Luckily this time around it was “just” two days, so I’m OK, and feeling, safe now, even if the feeling of fear when I try to go to sleep hasn’t faded yet.

Somehow, although it defies explanation I have found myself with too many things to do (programming, new series on Prime Video, and fitting in video games). That’s good, as it leaves me safe.

Bye for now.