Digging for triggers not treasure.
The world of mental illness is often shied away from by those that do not understand and those that live in it suffer the shame of the things that can’t be helped.
I realise something has triggered me big in my head, but I do not know what it is, when I get to it, then the wave of issues I am riding will ease and I will be able to breathe once more.
I stood today and washed my hands for the third time in a row, I saw the look on a strangers face, I saw the thoughts, the way they paused as thy spoke to me. I felt my own shame flush my face because I knew that my hands were still not clean and the person was staring.
The worst part of suffering a mental illness is the looks from people.
People say they are tolerant and understanding to it, but in truth they are not. They stare, they judge and if rude enough they point.
My hands are sore. They are cracked and bleed so bad that I look like I’ve gone ten rounds with a grater. I cannot get then clean. I’ve fallen into my OCD cycle and no idea how to get out of it or what set me off.
I cannot touch anything. I have to shower before I go to bed, I feel the days dirt all over me like an invisible film. It’s dirt inside and I can of get clean, but I keep trying.
I feel like I’m crazy. I know people see me as crazy. In some ways I am crazy. I’ve self harmed almost daily that I don’t even try and stop it, it’s just another right for me to lose.
If I could just find the buried trigger, it would be like a treasure to mind. The treasure of freedom.