Looked over

Every since I was little, I've had OCD. Not the "I need things to be neat, haha". No, I mean falling asleep doing rituals that I couldn't stop because if I didn't get it right, bad things would happen. I wouldn't get rid if things because I was terrified that I'd need them. I developed intrusive thoughts, I developed a toxic relationship with Christianity. It would sound like I was tapping a song on a object, but in reality I would have to tap the object so many times because that is what ocd does. I was a mess. I'm now a slightly better mess.
But my mother. My mother has ocd. She always knew I had OCD. And she never did shit. Excuse after excuse why- that therapist don't like diagnosing kids, I've always been so good at handling it. But being sick from anxiety because I was afraid of doing something wrong (in fairness, this anxiety also stemmed from the fact my dad was an angry nightmare)
But she did nothing
And that makes me mad. And a lot sad.

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Rudy Other February 27, 2020 at 11:19 pm 0 0