Pain, and Stress, and the Whatnot...

A few weeks ago I was given a steroid burst treatment. It lasted about 2 weeks to whittle down through the steroids. I felt so much better on the steroids, my pain throughout my body, throughout my tissues and joints, was almost gone. Bye bye. But mere days after finishing the burst of steroids, I started to feel pain flares again. They were minor and short. One would hardly notice them really. But every one of them left me feeling more and more anxiety. Today, the pain is truly returning. I can now say with certainty it is my disease's pain. It is nothing else or more or less. It is what I carry within me that is doing this. I almost thought for a second it might be gone, maybe it had all been some crazy bad dream. But I was wrong. It has returned, scared away for a minute, back for vengeance. You might ask what the pain feels like, and I am not even sure I can explain that...my goodness, I have no idea how to explain it. My neck hurts pretty good right now. I am trying not to move it in order to ward off the pain. My wrist hurts and aches and flares. Along with that my fingers hurt. This morning I woke up in pain as I had so many times before the steroids. Stumbling across the floor to my son's room. Gripping the steering wheel as I drove through town I felt the pain coursing in my fingers...not at the knuckles or joints, but in between, in the meat of the finger. My wrist ached with my internal groan on so many instances of grabbing something or turning my hand or whatever. My neck just is pain. Oh I wish it would go away. I wish I could stay on the steroids forever. (Oh, but I don't, because steroids have their own terrible side...) I just really can't believe this happening. I still, so many weeks later, am shocked by the situation I find myself in...So unexpected! But, then, I guess, who expects some crap like this...I feel quite a bit like crying. I still might. 

 Needless to say, my OCD has been on high alert. Grasping onto everything. Reminding me that this disease has a life expectancy. That this disease can be painful as hell. But, my OCD also makes me feel guilty...oh isn't that OCD's way...It reminds me of how many people have it worse and why do I have to be a whiny little snot about it. It yells into the far reaches of my mind, get the hell over yourself!!! I feel guilt for all those who have it so much worse or have had it so much worse...I can't imagine all they have gone through. I feel awful for what so many have been through.

But then I say, what the hell is wrong with me feeling awful about my own situation for a minute? What the hell is wrong with me feeling scared about this at all? Because that is what I am...scared...It can't be real, it must go away right?...But, no, it doesn't. There is no cure. And I am scared...

 

Imperfect Perfection

One of the biggest parts of OCD is an extreme fear of failure. Whether you fear you'll fail by contaminating yourself or others...or you fear you'll fail by not tapping that light switch three times and someone gets in a car wreck...or you fear if you eat that piece of fried chicken you have not eaten perfectly and will now die an early death. So very much of OCD is focused on being the perfect person.

But guess what!?! No one, not a single person in this world, is even capable of being perfect. We all make mistakes daily, we all have our little failings. And in a way, the rigors of compulsive behavior associated with OCD cause even more imperfection. We strive for perfection and are completely imperfect the whole way. 

I strive all the time to be the perfect wife and mother. To be the perfect friend and relative. But you can't be everything to everyone. You really can't even be everything to just one person. And trying to be, striving to be, will slowly eat at you. I worry incessantly about how much cleaning I have done in a day or how well I have cleaned. A perfect mother would not have a dirty house, or dirty clothes, or dirty kitchen...I worry incessantly about my weight and my looks and my being...a perfect wife would always look good for her husband, right? Does this mean that my house is always clean or that I always look my best. Oh my goodness, NO! In fact, it is quite the obvious, my obsession with wanting to clean "properly" or "look my best" keeps me from actually even achieving those things. I am overweight, I do not have the best clothes, my hair rarely is "done"...my house is constantly in the process of being cleaned and my floor is always dirty. Do I think that if I let go of things and didn't obsess so much that these things would change. Not really. But I do think I could enjoy more of life if I did. I do think that it would be much more enjoyable to spend time coloring a book with my son or watching a movie with my husband, if I wasn't obsessed continuously about the perfection of my being. 

But even with that being said, it is almost impossible for me not to obsess about it. My mind is filled continuously through every day with what needs to be done next. Always.

I am feeling more hopeful everyday that I can let go of some of this pressure to be perfect. I am so very hopeful that one day I can just enjoy time spent with my son and husband. That sitting down to a dinner with them will just be that and not be paired with continuous thoughts of what do I need to do after this or was the food good enough or is the kitchen cleaned enough. One day, I will just sit with husband and son and BE.