Punny Poem

In early 2009 I was accepted at HEC in Lausanne, Switzerland. Lausanne is in the French canton and it is grand. It has a lovely lake and green land.

I have been always hesitant to go to France or any other French speaking place, but I said “screw it, I have nothing TOULOUSE”. At that point I was accepted in several other places, so I had options from which to choose.

I set my mind on that university in the land of the Swiss, but in later days I regretted that wish.

Although I don’t have any fascination with cars, but little did I know that my situation would ESCALADE. On that topic, I have a lot of statements that need to be made.

On the outside, I always maintained the smiles, but on the inside, from comfort I was miles.

I was also feeling sad,gloomy, and grey. I hated my life every single freaking day.

My mind was plagued by obsession. The whole process pushed me into depression.

I couldn’t get out of it on my own, for how can one heal if the illness is not known?

OCD dominated me as to obsessions I was a target and a prey. They whipped me around like I was Anna and they were Christian Grey.

Just like when it comes to the topic of bondage sex, my hands were tied, and it never made sense.

Thoughts were coming out of the blue, the point of origin of which I hadn’t a clue.

When you are indulged in obsessions and similar shit, not even your Japanese friend can TOKYO out of it.

I remember always keeping the laptop turned on with something playing until dawn. I did that because otherwise I would be overwhelmed with thoughts and breakdown.

I needed something louder than the thoughts to focus on, and anything with sound was helpful when I was alone.

But one day, the laptop died on me, and the effects I definitely could see.

Now my fear was real, and that night was one of the worst I’d feel.

I started to cry and weep and I completely broke down . Tears ran down my cheek and in them I did drown.

I don’t know if it had to do with hormones, but I am pretty sure I sounded like how a whore moans.

I reached a point where I would always cry, powder came out my eyes as the canal of tears was completely dry.

I remember starting to think of many an event. And I could feel my chest buckle under blocks of emotional cement.

Thoughts of events that were years old, started bombarding me and I started shivering as if I were cold.

Silly things like past occasions or even a game of monopoly would cause me more sadness, anxiety, and worry.

I used to obsess and over-think, the more I did, the deeper I would sink.

I was losing my mind clearly, and just like the time I lost my pet gazelle, I was going to miss it DEERly.

Although at times I lost all hope, I never wanted to end my pain and use a rope.

That was one of many severe meltdowns and mental episodes, which  I will talk about in later blog posts.

I will also talk more about and elaborate on this, or what I like to call “Meltdown in the Land of the Swiss”.

I just wanted to write my experience in a punny poem, as these two are some of my favorite obsessions and I love’em.

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


See Them Before They Go Away

Today, February the 16th, my paternal grandmother died. I can’t feel but guilt. I am incapable of feeling sadness as I am happy for her, because she was in a lot of agony for too long. However I cannot kick that feeling of guilt. And as I am writing this, that feeling is causing me to tear up.

Why am I feeling guilty? I know the answer to that. I haven’t seen her or visited her in quite some time. It’s not that I didn’t love her. I loved her. She was an amazing person. However, the problem is within me. More like, the problem is me.

Regardless of wherever I am going, as soon as I know or even think about going out, I get anxious. Any sort of going out gives me anxiety. Its levels differ from day to day, but nevertheless, it is present. I get a bad, sinking feeling in my chest. It could be described as a cross between fear and nervousness. There is no reason whatsoever for me to get that. I am not scared of the outside. I don’t fear people. Au contraire, I love being outside and I adore people. But I cannot help the feeling I get. In such cases, I would think about how much I rather be on my own, in my comfort zone.

Every time I thought of going to my grandma’s, I would get struck by anxiety. The thing is that I am not forced to go. It is something I want to do. That’s why when anxiety hits, I don’t feel obliged to leave home, because it has nothing to do with work, necessity, sickness, or having to meet someone I have an appointment with. What I am trying to say in so many words is that in some occasions when I feel obliged to go out – because going out in these cases is necessary for me to maintain life and living – I would push through the pain and tolerate the meanness of the anxiety. Many times I also start getting obsessions before going out or while I am out. I don’t know why it happens, but it does.

Whenever I thought of going out and visiting her, anxiety would strike, and I say “Not today. Today I can’t. I’ll go soon for sure.” That’s the biggest lie I tell myself “I’ll definitely do it later.” So I end up not going. “Soon” comes and I push it to another “soon”. I kept on doing that until she died. And now I hate and blame myself.

What I want to make clear is that these feelings are crap. They are total bullshit and tricks played on us by us. Just don’t trust everything you feel. Sometimes conscious and rational thinking will cause much more discomfort, but it will give better results to you in the long run (when you start getting used to disregard anxiety), and to everyone around you, all the time.
If you want to go out and the idea seems right, don’t let anything physical or abstract stand in your way. Time will never go back, and you will end up with sorrow and regret.

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

Do I Wish I Didn’t Have Issues

The answer to that question is complicated. If it were a yes/no answer, it would have been such a short post.
My experience with OCD and depression has been tough so far to say the least. Most people who have gone through exam periods will know what worrying and anxiety feels like. So it is not that hard to fathom what anxiety disorders are about. The only difference is that the former example’s anxiety is rational and justified, while the latter’s isn’t and stays with the sufferer for a longer periods of time.

I am grateful I do have OCD. As weird as that sounds, it’s perfectly normal to me. If I were given the choice to live without the aforementioned issues, I really really doubt my answer would be yes. In all honesty I don’t know how to live without them. They are an integral part of me. They have become something I am used to and accustomed to feeling. I think they made me suffer from Stockholm Syndrome. However, this is not the main reason. There is another reason which is not going to sound logical but it is really how I feel.

The relatively illogical reason is as follows. I always thought that because I have OCD, there is someone out there who doesn’t suffer from it because I took on the part of having the illness. I keep thinking that it’s okay I am feeling depressed because I took that burden of someone else. I also feel like if it had to happen, I’m happy it happened to me, that is because I know me. I don’t have to worry about someone else. I tend to worry and feel guilty when I know someone has an illness or is passing through tough times. I’m not saying this so I could be called a gentle and kind soul, or a very caring person. I don’t care about these labels. It is just how I truly feel, and I felt this should be said.

I know me better than I know any other person. And I feel that I can handle what I am passing through. I think that everyone (to a certain extent) feels he can do or control things better than others. I have decided long ago that I wasn’t going to quit. I have passed through periods of utter despair where I truly believed that nothing will be better and I was in a very dark place. There was times when I lost the will to live. I just wanted my existence to cease. But that promise I kind of made to myself kept me going. Anyone who has had experience with severe depression will tell you that at any given time, suicide is a thought. Even if you wouldn’t do it, the thought is there and it is pretty normal to have it. However it wasn’t something I would do it to myself or to anyone around me. As hard as it was I kept myself from doing it. I don’t know why but I did. I can’t think of a single reason, because in such types you care about nothing and no one; not even yourself.

That’s just how I feel, and how I reason things. Call me weird, unorthodox, abnormal; I am all these things and that is pretty normal to me.

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

The Day I Hit on a Girl !!!!

The following is based on true events. That’s how things happened. I was going to see a person in an office, both of which shall remain unnamed. I knocked on the door with three of my fingers (or was it two? Or did I ring the bell?). A girl’s voice told me to “come in”. I came in. I asked her about said person, she told me said “said person” wasn’t there. I was a bit annoyed because that meant my job was going to be delayed. I told her I will see said “said “said person”” on the day of the event. Thanked her and left. As all that happened I was having a thought in my mind. I was thinking “this girl is kinda cute”. She had nice eyes and that’s the first thing I look at. As I was in the elevator and then leaving the building, I started thinking that I will never see this dudette again in my life. There was no way I could get to know her better in a social outing so I said to myself “Why don’t I ask her out?”.

So basically I had a feeling of “I have nothing to lose” mixed with “Let me not regret not doing it later” topped with a little bit of anxiety sprinkles. I have had several of these thoughts before, but not feeling comfortable enough and having an anchor of anxiety pushing me down, made me never dare do such things. The feeling would be so intense that I didn’t feel I could live with myself afterwards because of all the anxiety, thoughts, and scenarios I would make up and obsess about afterwards. To make that uncomfortable feeling clearer to you lovely humans, consider the following: The weather outside is frightful, and the bed is so delightful, and then you feel like you have to go, Oh no Oh no Oh no. That uncomfortable peeing sensation is the uncomfortable feeling, while staying in bed is the comfortable one. But these days I am all about conquering those feelings. So I decided what I was going to do.

I picked up my balls and reentered the building (don’t get me wrong, I had two basketballs with me, they dropped on the floor, and I had to pick them up). I pressed the elevator button with my right hand index finger (or was it thumb? Or did I take the stairs?). I went there and was a few meters from the door. This time I had no pretext to knock on the door. I had nothing to start with. It was just one thing I wanted to ask, and it had nothing to do with anything. I went forward then backward, and my heart started pounding. I said “Screw it I’m doing this (in Arabic, in my mind)”.I knocked on the door. At that point I could feel my teeth sweating. She said “enter”. I entered and said “I know this may sound weird, but do you want to go out sometime maybe drinks or dinner?”. She said “No, sorry”. I said “Your loss, I’m half Nigerian. My nickname in high school was Raja the Tripod”. Okay, Okay, I didn’t say that, I said it’s okay and left.

This was probably one of the proudest moments of my life. Believe me with someone with anxiety and obsessions, this is huge. It doesn’t matter that she said no. She might find me ugly. She might be afraid of strangers. She might have a boyfriend. Or the thought I always go to when I get rejected, she’s probably a lesbian.

So what is to be learnt from this experience can be summed up in the following sentence. Ok I lied, it’s in the sentence after this. Whenever you feel that irrational uncomfortable feeling, just go on and do. The only way to break fears and uncomfortable situations is to do the thing that causes them in the first place. So if you feel like you’re uncomfortable doing something that you rationally know might be – or is- good for you, just know you’re on the right track and go do it. That’s the only way we break our fears and get out of our shells.

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

Fighting Back: The Road to Emotional Bliss

The worst feeling I have ever felt. Worse than giving birth. Worse than being hit in the testicles….with a chair! That feeling I am talking about is the one a person gets when he fights back, when he doesn’t comply with the obsessions and tries not to think of them. It sounds simple enough. Oh no it isn’t….It’s tough. It’s hard. It’s tiring….paralyzing….debilitating….but it is the only way out. In the short run it sucks so bad it makes you feel so much better in the long run.

I am writing about this as I have been going through this recently. I have done it before but not this intense and not on such a broad scale; I have been exposing myself and fighting my obsessive thoughts and behavior. I’ve had to have an increase in my medication dosage in order to help with the fight. The medication cannot (in my case that is) do all the work; cure you and let you stop getting intrusive thoughts and being obsessed. The medication at first provides a stepping stone and a launching pad, and then becomes an agent responsible for giving the person with OCD an extra push. The individual with OCD has a lot of work to do, depending on how far he is in his obsessive behavior. This is a fight of epic proportions. It’s one fighting one’s self; his own thoughts, and his own feelings. And to see results you have to suffer. And suffer you shall. It’s the only way out.

I start heavy breathing; I feel like my lung is going to come out of my ass. My heart starts beating faster than a cheetah on cocaine. Tiny droplets of sweat start forming on the top of my forehead. I feel a warm sensation in my chest and a knot in my stomach. I get fidgety and I start to nervously shake my foot. I start getting thoughts that only get worse by the second. I keep on thinking or wanting to think. I start feeling like the walls are getting closer and tighter. Important things start to seem unimportant and trivial. I start feeling a dark feeling; an unpleasant, unwelcomed feeling. I’m now anxious and depressed. I can’t control that when it comes. What I can do is fight back. I just don’t give the obsession the time of day. I don’t give it any attention; I just treat it like a Raja in a room filled with cute girls (don’t laugh at my misery). It sounds pretty easy. Au contraire!!! It really is the absolute opposite.

You get the obsessive thought. You say I’m not thinking about it. At first it starts easy. Every second it gets harder and harder. It reaches a point where it tries to force you to think of it. It makes you feel like if this isn’t resolved, it is the end of the world, and your life will never be the same, and you will always feel gloomy and depressed. It goes on to hijack your whole thought process. Your whole mind. Your whole brain. You can’t think of other stuff. The thought is lurking in the back of your head. It never wants to leave, and it seems as if it will always bother you unless you resolve it by thinking or doing its compulsion. You feel paralyzed. Getting out of bed seems so hard, discomforting, and damn scary. You don’t feel like eating, talking to anyone, getting out of the house, or even taking a shower. Even if you wanted to use the bathroom for when nature calls, you keep pushing it back until your bladder is about to burst. Doing anything while having a thought lurk in the background of the mind, will give you more depression as you feel like you want to enjoy what you’re doing but can’t. You feel like you are wasting your time and emotions. That’s the trick the mind plays. It makes us think the end is near and gives us doomed thinking, all in order to let us submit to the obsessions. This intense and severe discomfort is normal when fighting back. Believe me it won’t last forever. When I fought back it first took months to feel better, the second time it took weeks, then days, then hours, and now some take minutes. The time to get over it and feel normal depends on how severe the thought is and how much time of day you have given it.

In closing I say don’t succumb to the thoughts. The thoughts YOU DO NOT generate should not be allowed to take over. Fight them. You may lose sometimes, but fight nevertheless, even if you broke down while fighting it; the time spent from when you started fighting to when you broke down is so helpful in the future. Baby steps. Believe me every second spent fighting will help. Just be ready to go through hell because that’s what it feels like in order to cross to emotional bliss.

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

OCD and Romantic Relationships (Part two)

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.

Going to the Psychiatrist

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.

Funny Obsessions are not Funny

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.