Once it seemed there would always be
a time for everything.
Ages passed I knew at last
my life had never been.

I'd been missing what time could bring.
Fifty years and I'm filled with tears and joys
I never cried.
Burn the wagon and chain the mule.
The past is all denied.
There's no time for everything.
No time for everything.

Those are lyrics from a fantastic Jethro Tull song.

Anyway, that pretty much sums up how I feel the majority of the time. What have I not done/accomplished, etc. How am I wasting time? And oh, the time wasted. How did I deal with my issues today? Cleaning. I dont consider myself the most organized person in the world, but lately I find some sort of bizzaare peace in cleaning a room, thoroughly, and yet, I tell myself before I start, "I'm not going to REALLY cleani it, because that would be too involved." I mean like setting parameters. I'm going to clean the dishes, sweep and scrub down the counters, but I'm not going to move the appliances and scrub every nook and friggin' cranny. If I didn't set those parameters beforehand, hell I'd still be cleaning right now. You know why? Because it's a distraction. LIfe with OCD is a hunt for distractions. Something to obsess over, focus on, otherwise, you'll go bezerk. Sometimes I look forward to going to work, the end of the weekend, because I'll have structure again. I won't have just my thoughts to drive me batty. Sometimes I have to make lists just to remind myself what my hobbies are. It's such a bizzare disorder; what makes me feel good is that I'm spilling this out in a forum where at least people reading this have some sort of understanding of what I'm talking about – the rest of the world has no idea.

Right now, my mind is telling me that I'm just looking for attention, 'woe is me,' when I know I just want to find a commonality, an understanding.