I have obsessed about several girls. I have stood next to their bedroom windows. Followed them wherever they went. Broke into their homes and smelled their clothes. I have also made shrines for them in my bedroom. Hey Hey…none of what I just described is real. I did not – I repeat – DID NOT have stalking-like obsessions. I didn’t obsess the way some creeps or psychopaths in the movies do. My obsessions were of the type that I thought I had romantic feelings for those girls. The thoughts gave me the impression that I have strong feelings for a certain girl. I start obsessing about how it feels being with her and talking to her. My thoughts weren’t of any sexual kind. They didn’t tread on the bizarre and weird. Although I did have arguments with my imaginary girlfriend; I told her that I felt like she’s not really there for me (if you did not get this one, please review your life choices so far).

On several occasions, my mind bombarded me with thoughts that were based on real things but were of no real value. But when one is an obsessive individual, and doesn’t know that it is a disorder, these obsessions seem real as real could be. I fell in that trap and got sucked into thinking a lot as well as into disillusionment. It was not easy. On the one hand I thought I had feelings for a certain girl. On the other, I could do nothing because of my “romantic anxiety” (refer to my previous blog post “OCD and Romantic Relationships (Part 1)”). Just like in bondage sex, my hands were tied. It was a vicious circle. I thought I liked someone, and then I felt like I couldn’t do anything which in turn increased my obsessive thoughts about that certain someone. The vicious circle went on to become a vicious snowball which only grew bigger – and a lot more depressive – with time until I became overwhelmed with an avalanche of annoying feelings.

None of the girls I obsessed about, as it turned out, did I have true romantic feelings for. The thoughts were filled with lies and half truths. I found that out later, after medication and therapy, which allowed me to have moments of clarity where I was out of any obsessive thought and in a rational and logical state of mind that took reality as is. These were the moments I found out that the only girl I think I have truly liked (and probably still do) has never been subject to my obsessions in the aforementioned manner. But the conclusion of this post doesn’t have a happy ending. I was too late and took so much time to realize what I truly felt that 5 years have passed and she’s now moved on and engaged. Honestly I’m completely okay with how things turned out (*starts crying* I want her so baaad *sniff*). Would I like to be with her? Does a guy with a lisp have a problem saying lisp? Hell yes! (I really dislike he who invented that word. I have a lithp…a lithp…thon of a bitch!!) However what I feel, is causing me no discomfort or annoyance at all. That is because it is far away from my obsessions, so I can treat it and deal with it with total control. You never know when my dreams will come true and a girl will come on a white horse, and I will finally have a horse.

That was a piece of my mind, wishing a peace of mind to you all.

Popping my therapy cherry, so to say, was a very difficult thing. I first dabbled with the issue in the summer months of the year of our lord the two thousandth and eight. I took two appointments with two different doctors. I went to a total of zero sessions. Every time I got cold feet. It was something so far outside my comfort zone, as if I had to travel to another zone, so much that I wasn’t really ready to take that ride. It is as if this new zone was Japan, and my brain was saying: “let me Tokyo out of going”. However in 2012 that all changed. In the four years that came between, a lot had happened that made me reconsider taking that long ride. My comfort zone wasn’t comfortable anymore. I was packed and ready to go.

Seeing a total stranger is unnerving enough. Well how does telling them your most inner thoughts and feelings sound like? I think that some leave that as the penultimate choice. I know I did. I was in a much worse place than I was in 2008. These things never heal with time. I got more addicted to the reassuring feeling that comes with complying with the compulsions. But soon the addiction, just like any addiction, turned from sweet into sour. I went deeper into depression, something I started having long before 2008, and most probably due to my disorder. It used to be anything but okay; however it was still something I could live with. The pain was tolerable to a certain extent. But now the feeling was unbearable. The pain was too much and it crept into everything. It is as if the topics in my life started getting infected one after the other. I used to say “I am going bananas” (that’s what I used to tell my bananas before leaving the house). That is when I realized this is not normal. It isn’t something I want to keep living with. I wanted to feel happy and calm on the inside.

That’s when I decided that the uneasy feeling I’ll have from talking to a stranger is much better than the uneasy feeling I’m having on a daily basis. I was desperate. I didn’t want to keep living like that.

If I go back in time with the knowledge I have now, I would definitely have gone to my appointment in 2008. I would have even gone as early as I started feeling something different (no it wasn’t puberty, I know the difference because I know when puberty hit; I was twenty four. It was a Monday.).

I hate to sound like a wise person, or someone who likes to throw advice like pies in people’s faces, but bear with me. If anyone is feeling a bit of discomfort that is either justified or out of nowhere, trust me see someone. Just like going to France, there’s nothing Toulouse (baaaam, pun!! I’ve been dying to use it……Guys… guys? Where did everyone go?). There are a lot of professional people out there that are easy to talk to. I know a good number of them if anyone needs a referral. I have been to – as well as know – so many psychiatrists, psychologists, and therapists, that I now have a membership badge and a family discount card. So believe me just go. If you are feeling that something is out of place call an expert. And if you have this feeling that’s keeping you from going to see someone, in my opinion, this is one of the signs that you really need to go. Believe me these people have the tools (medication and/or therapy) that will, and good God I mean they WILL help. Believe me, I know.

That was a piece of my mind, wishing a peace of mind to you all.

I am not fishing for compliments. I am not in need of attention (I do have a lovely cuddle buddy). I am just stating the following as I have received the feedback from most people I have encountered.

Some may find me funny. Some may not. It’s okay. I’m totally fine with it (screw you, you can go to hell). But when I was deeply indulged in my obsessions it was anything but. One of the things I obsessed about was the fact that I wanted every single person – and I mean every single person of whom I knew or didn’t – to find me funny. I also wanted them to like me. I was obsessed with being accepted and found humorous enough so that people would actually want to spend time with me. Trying to be funny was the only thing I can do as I had a face suitable for a radio show and a voice suitable for a silent movie.

I used to get so anxious talking to people that I once asked a cab driver “so what do you work?” I said things that I regretted while (not after, while) saying. You might catch me saying nonsensical stuff, things that might seem out of nowhere. Things like “I love scotch tape”. “My favorite planet is the Moon” (I knew later it wasn’t even a planet). Things even I go “huh?” after I said them. As if I had no brain. It would have been much easier if I had made a bunch of noises instead of words; they would have made the same freaking impression.

I used to – I still do but I used to too – talk a lot. I talked more than….more than….someone who talks a lot (could not for the life of me find a suitable analogy). I always felt I needed to hog the spotlight. I wanted to be the one who, after everyone leaves home, was talked about in a positive sense and applauded for his humor. I used to spew anything that came to mind.

The thing is I always felt – and still feel sometimes – like I am the one responsible for the entertainment, and if I weren’t then I would start losing friends. I was a self appointed jester. Whenever I went out with someone I felt the anxiety of the situation. I felt that I had work to do, so it was never fun for me. I used to work hard (not like male pornstars. Got it? Hard….sexual innuendo?) I always felt like there is a bar above people’s heads that indicates their satisfaction with me the more it is filled. And I was the one who had to fill it. I was the one to make the decision when it was filled and when it was lagging behind, by listening to my obsessions and what they dictated. When that going out was done, I would sit alone and revise the whole scenario, including their expressions, both facial and verbal. I would also start obsessing about the minute details and grimaces and associate a negative attribute to each. Oh they didn’t think I was funny enough. They think I was lame. They think I am a pushover. They can’t wait to leave. They won’t go out with me again. And when we used to go out again, I would think all these things over again and sometimes might feel like they are doing that just not to hurt my feelings and that their going out with me is out of sympathy or because they don’t know how to get out of it.

So basically it was a mess. So if anyone out there is feeling social anxiety, know that it’s alright. It’s all in your head. Just try to let things go. Don’t obsess and don’t self-doubt. Believe me if people don’t like you the clues are very clear. Don’t try to read between the lines, because there’s nothing there but crap.

That was a piece of my mind, wishing a peace of mind to you all.

This is going to be my darkest post so far. It deals with death. Not the physical state of being dead but the mental one as well as wishing to die in order to end the pain. People with mental disorders wish death upon themselves or even commit suicide not because they don’t want their lives to continue, but because they want their suffering to end. Suffering is a very big word some might think, but believe me it still underestimates what one passes through and cannot convey what it is to truly have a mental disorder push someone into depression.

To me depression feels like sitting alone in a dark room where the walls touch you on both sides and your head hits the ceiling. That’s not just it. The walls seem to be moving closer, tightening you ever so more. Thinking of anything may bother you and cause you greater sadness. Even if you think of a happy thing, the simple notion that you are unable to feel happy for this happy thought makes you go deeper into depression and despair. In its essence, depression is a vicious circle. The more you try to get out of it, it pulls you deeper. Just like quick sand, the more you try, the deeper you go. The only solution is to let someone pull you out of it. But for depressed people, asking for help isn’t as easy as it looks. That’s when their thoughts push them toward ending their life.

Mostly people who suffer from depression tend to have suicidal thoughts. A number of these individuals go through with it. People feel that nothing will make them feel better. They think this is the end. Depression causes one to lose interest in almost everything especially the things he likes and enjoys. Losing interest makes life not worth living. Imagine you lose joy in eating, in going out, in talking to anyone. You basically lose interest in living. This makes people go toward something that seems easy and doesn’t need more than one person to accomplish. It’s the only thing they think is the solution. It’s the easiest. It’s the quickest and to them, the most efficient. It’s not a coward or selfish move. It’s a desperation move. It’s the last shot (no pun intended). It seems to them like through suicide they will finally live without pain.

In my case, I think most probably depression was caused by obsessive behavior and intrusive thoughts. It was as if I lost control of my thoughts and my brain was dictating what I should be thinking of. It almost always dictated I think of the negative side of things. Almost all things. Negative thoughts cause negative feelings and with time, depression. It’s a very difficult thing knowing that you cannot trust your brain and don’t have control over it. The brain controls itself and you can do nothing but watch and feel like crap. That’s when my thoughts of “I want to die”, or starting to think of how much rest I might have have I been dead. Thinking of death is probably the only thought that generates good feelings, so logically it seems as the right thing to do.

So let’s not blame those who have killed themselves. Let’s not call them cowards. Let’s not call them selfish. Let’s not call them losers. They did not have weak personalities. They were warriors who tried to overcome a huge obstacle. Let’s instead learn from their death and work on helping people with depression. Let’s work on knowing that disease better and show every person in one’s life that he’s not alone, you might not know who might have depression. Let’s break the taboo and stop making fun of people seeing a psychologist, psychiatrist, therapist, or a shrink. And let’s stop belittling what they are going through.

This was a piece of my mind, wishing a peace of mind to you all.

Religion doesn’t cause OCD. OCD causes religion. Wait, before you hook the rope and tighten my noose, hear me out, I mean read me out (unless someone is reading this to you, then disregard the second sentence). What I refer to here (and will refer to in this post) as religion isn’t the moderate minding-my-own-business religion. It is not the moderate practice of religion. And by religion I don’t mean the widespread definition of religion that which worships a deity or several deities or none whatsoever. I actually mean the definition of the word which is “an interest, a belief, or an activity that is very important to a person or group” according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Basically religion in the sense that it is a way of life.

My OCD has been very loyal to me since a very young age, never leaving my side till this day. This is why I can be positive making the first statement I did; religion doesn’t cause OCD. I had OCD long before I started caring about religion, God, prayers, fasting, and other beliefs. I was raised by nominally Muslim parents (my father is Shia, Mom is Druze, so I’m half a Durzi; so when I die only my legs will come back. Got it? Reincarnation joke? And the Druze community hates me now). Both don’t practice. They have their own sets of beliefs. We were never raised on their beliefs. My brother and I were given the freedom to make our own beliefs. That’s how awesome my parents are.

My troubles started when I finished university and went to Switzerland. It was a totally new life, new people, new culture. I had to wash my own clothes, which I did after I ran out of things to wear; you might have seen me buying groceries in a Tuxedo, as I had nothing else to put on. In the land of the Swiss, I was all by myself. All the anxiety and issues I had in my head that had to do with my social life and friends was fading away gradually. My mind now had nothing substantial to obsess about. That is when I started having religious obsessions.

Mind you I wasn’t religious when I set foot in Switzerland. I did have my beliefs but religion wasn’t in my top priorities going forward. I started having thoughts that I should focus on my religion. I felt that I was being ungrateful. I felt something was missing. The thoughts were strong and wouldn’t subside until I read something that had to do with religion. I started reading, asking questions, going to websites, among other things. I would send emails and get replies. How to do this? What is this? Why is this like that? I had so many questions and got a flood of answers. Every question has so many different answers, and every answer creates so many obsessive thoughts.

I reached a phase where I would do things I wasn’t completely convinced with, but did them anyway to calm down my anxiety. It had nothing to do with heaven or hell. Nothing to do with reward or punishment. Basically it had nothing to do with God.
There was a time when I started considering not shaking hands with girls and even implemented that for a while. I am not saying it is wrong or right, I’m just saying that it is something I didn’t believe in and wasn’t convinced by. But I did it anyway in order to calm down the thoughts. God forbid I saw a hint of flesh on the TV, I would turn my head so quickly, it would almost fall off my shoulders. Going to the bathroom was my number one problem (got it? a poop joke?) My number two problem was…..also going to the bathroom (ok no more poop jokes). I would doubt the way I took a bath. Did I get enough water? Did it cover my whole body? I would spend tens of minutes in the bathroom just as a compulsive reaction to my obsessions. Then during prayer I would sometimes repeat the same thing several times maybe. I would doubt things I just did. Things I just said. I would start feeling heat in my chest, and a cold, shivering sensation all over my beautiful soft skin. I start feeling sweat form on my forehead. My heart starts beating faster. My breath becomes heavy. Overall it’s a slightly sucky feeling. I had no chance but to give in to the demands of my captors. So I would repeat, and doubt, and think, and say what if. Even after I finish from a certain practice I would revise what I have done and try to find calmness in answering my obsessions. All I can say – now that I am at this stage looking backwards – is that I lost a lot of time. I can clearly remember the things I used to doubt, and think to myself “how in the blue hell did I let this silly crappy thought control me, and how stupid was I to think that?”. But when one is in the middle of an obsession, good luck trying to think rationally, or even just think.

That was some time ago, I am now a different person. That took time and a lot of rational thinking, but that’s a topic for another day hopefully.

That was a piece of my mind, wishing a peace of mind to you all.