Okay. I blame OCD for a lot of things. I blame it for the crappy end to a wonderful relationship that lasted a year, school struggling, and aslkjdfh; everything. UGH. I'm having a lot of trouble right now with a lot of crap. My father left me the day I was born… I haven't seen him since I was 10 years old. He's a recovered Heroin Addict. My mother and her boyfriend are pot heads, in my opinion. I have OCD along with everyone who's probably reading this. My OCD is probably the most scary thing I've ever heard of, and talking about it almost scares me. I'm amost 17 years old and I have a lot to learn. But one thing I do know is, I don't want to be like this forever. I've been miserable my whole life, with the exception of Nick. (the boy whom i completely hate at the moment)
He pretty much leads me on, then treats me like a stranger… then doesn't talk to me for a few months and it happens all over again.
No touching knives.
Door must be locked if I'm in my room.
I must wear clean clothes right from the dryer, whether or not I washed them yesterday too.
Only half the bathroom lights can be on if I look in the mirror.
things like that…
but the most difficult thing about my ocd is a fear that I will kill myself. It's OCD… It's the obsessive thought. I'M NOT GOING TO KILL MYSELF! I'm SOOO sick of people at school (councilers and such) and doctors, and EVERYONE SAYING I'M SUICIDAL. NO. 🙁 I see myself in the kitchen… with a knife to my chest. I'm the "maid" around the house and if I don't do the diches, I'm screwed. I HATE doing the dishes, as a matter of fact I HATE being in the same room as knives even. My parents understand NOTHING. At the emergancy room after a terrible panic attack, A POLICE MAN had to make sure I had no metal on me so I wouldn't kill myself. W T F. I told them, I HAVE OCD AND I'M NOT GOING TO KILL MYSELF.
When I was in the 6th grade, The Department Of Social Services took me away from my mother. I've only been to two foster homes in my life so I'm very lucky. I never wanted to go back, I knew my life would be miserable still. About a month after I was put back in my home (we moved and i lost all my friends of 12 years)… my parents began smoking weed again… WHAT A SURPRISE. So, about a year after we moved to where I live now… I went to a friend and told them. Then their parents called the police who then picked me up and went to my house. They found the weed, and my parents said "We're not going to stop". I HATE THEM. I'm home alone every single day, If I'm even home… I try to be out a lot.
I'll finish later….