well, my life is changing again. i guess it's supposed to. it might hurt some, but i've got to go with it. i still have my husband and my children. God will provide me with the rest.

if only i could get rid of this unsettling doubt i have all the time.

here's an excerpt from 2006, i was a teenager. It looks like symptoms.

"Sometimes I hate how much I feel. I get sick of every sight and sensation, even small things become intense or catastrophic. Like, I'm on the highway and I am (insanely) aware of the blinkers, and I stare at them as they switch from lane to lane. Where do they all think they're going? Sometimes I lie in bed and I think about so much, or become so guilty about things that I've done, that my mind just races and I permanently go into panic mode. My whole body will tense up, and I can't go to sleep. My legs hurt."

The thing about OCD, is that even if I try to rid a thought, block a thought, neutralize a thought, replace a thought, mentally compulse a thought, make the thoughts make sense/ whatever it is I do in my head to these thoughts...the fear is still there. The anxiety is still there. Whatever shut off valve normal people have, I must not have. In the face of a rational thought, the irrational remains. The whole gist of this illness is fear. The d stands for demon, as I've read somewhere else.

OCD is like being crazy, but still being sane enough to watch yourself be crazy. Is there anything else like it in the world? At the very least, I've read that it's thought people with this condition have higher intelligence, just because of the thought processes.

"It has been proposed that sufferers are generally of above-average intelligence, as the very nature of the disorder necessitates complicated thinking patterns.^{[73]" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Obsessive–compulsive_disorder).}

^{Woohoo. I'm smart enough to be blessed with a curse. It's true though, the thoughts keep rolling in and out and back in again. They layer one another, crash into one another. It is not pleasant. But to an extent there is an invisibility to it, so I kind 0f still go on with life. Life goes on, regardless of how severe or how mild it happens to be for me.}

^{When all is said and done, I'd like to be unimpressed by whatever insane notions my mind presents to me. I'd like to use the logical part of my mind to defeat all illogical. I'd like to let go of doubts and unknowns, as clinging to absoluteness is sometimes futile. I wish to separate myself from certain thoughts and tell myself it isn't me. That the real me is the one that is letting go of this thought RIGHT NOW instead of clinging, obsessing, etc. The real me is not the thought itself, rather the one denying the thought. I need to have belief in my own strength.}

^{As for how I like everything "in its place"...well, it's helping me keep my place clean. Granted, no one needs the extra stress of feeling the loss of control when things get messy, but if I were to choose the worst aspect of myself, it wouldn't be the cleaning compulsions. One day (hopefully) I'll let go and relax more. Things can't be perfect with kids around, anyway. They're already not. But not too much relaxation... we're not living in filth, and I am not ending up on that show Hoarders.}

^{I need to write here more often. But I also need to quit forsaking the crap out of my journal. What if i regret tomorrow not writing down the details of today.}

^{My kids are driving me nuts. Side note.}

This Saturday I have a spring concert I'm doing with the Hagerstown Chorale. I think this is going to be one of the most special memories of my life.

----

I could point fingers and blame the environment and genetics. But in the end, I am responsible for my o.c.d. This is my challenge that I've been given in this life. I am responsible for what I do with myself and what decisions I make in light of this illness. I can't do a blame game, I have to take responsibility for my actions and thoughts. And I can't just assume that I will be sick forever and become delusional. I have to assume that I have a choice, that I can be well (or at the very least, manageable).

One of the worst parts about o.c.d. are the obsessions. Ones you can't shake no matter how hard you try. Ones that don't have obvious compulsions to match. But the compulsions suck, too. Like, I have to clean up this area right now and put things back into their places. Or the world will fall apart. The whole apartment will get to a place I can't control. That is a theme related to o.c.d. Control. And fear. But just what do I really think will happen if I don't do this, or that, or the other thing? What am I so afraid of? Another irritating part is my concern over the placements of objects. Like, sometimes I'll open up the junk drawer and move stuff around until it's "right." And don't even get me started on the over-thinking and overanalyzing of words and thoughts. Or just the overall guilt over everything. I better stop now before you try to prescribe me medication.

I think I do have a part of me that can look at myself and say, look, you're being ridiculous. But then there is the crazy kristine that is lurking beneath the surface. Just waiting to burst out into the next episode of anxiety.

I want to stop thinking about death. I think about it a lot, I know that I shouldn't because I'm so young. But its inevitability really affects me. A 24 year old should be all ladeda-I-have-my-whole-life-ahead-of-me-death-isn't-much-to-wonder-about-right-now. But to me, the space between 24 and old age is almost a night. And it really really bothers me that memories are just that, memories. They aren't tangible, they're over. They're almost not really real, only passing thoughts in the brain. One can never go back, yesterday is done. Today is now and it's the only "real" we have. I can never recover nightmares. I can never recover precious times.

So even if I did finally absorb the fact that I'm still young and death is not appropriate to think about, there is still the reality that old age isn't promised to me, it's not promised to you. Today is what we have, death strikes anywhere, any time. So relying on old age isn't always possible, though probable in many cases. So the ugly finality of death is still in my mind.

Another thing, I'm scared of death because life is all I know. I'm scared not to "be here" because I don't really know what "being there" means. Who is the me that would be somewhere else? I don't know that person. I don't know the "old me" either, in this life. It's all surreal. I'm scared of life without my husband, my kids, and having them in the way I've always known. It's the unknown that gets me.

I need to think Heavenly thoughts to comfort myself.
And I know I think entirely too much about things that some people would never think. One thing is for sure, I think I can look back at my twenties and remember a time when I realized that life was a breath, and how much that tore at me.

New Year

In regards to school, I'm backing out for a semester. Maybe more. I don't know. I guess maybe I'm tired of having an invisible competition with an elusive standard hanging over my head. It's pretty amazing that I'm coming to terms with this,though. I'm re-thinking the whole "get your degree now now now" thing. I got married. I had children. Maybe that gives me the luxury to spend all my time taking care of them and giving in to all of my cleaning compulsions, instead of being stressed out about things that are happening outside of the house. It seems sort of fair. I mean, they didn't ask to come into the world. I clearly did ask. So maybe I should sort of just do the mother thing for now and skip everything else if I feel like it's going to kill me while I'm still alive. Plus, I am now in the church choir, singing back up some Sundays, joining my dad's choir (Hagerstown Chorale), and thinking about finding a mommy group to join. I'm preoccupied. However, my sciences go bad in 2014...and I am just not repeating those. So I do need to get on the horse eventually.

I don't know what I want to write, I just know that I wanted to write. So many things happen, and I think, that is so cute, so great, I should journal it. I have good intentions. It just never happens. And no, this Internet blog kind of doesn't count. Only the real journal waiting for me in my kitchen counts, if that's even where I still left it. Only ink on paper counts for "real" real. This is neat, too, though. I suppose I wouldn't even have a blog if I assumed it counted for nothing. Plus, for some reason, I like people to be aware of some of my thoughts. Even though most couldn't care less about them. But I guess that's the point of a blog, putting them Out There. In the Universe. Then they can trip and fall and land wherever they're supposed to.

I'm going to try and diet this year. I know, I know, I probably say or think that at the beginning of every year. I also hope to blog here more, eat healthier, tithe, not go off the deep end again, treat my kids like precious gems, get more out of debt, address my sugar and diet coke addiction, be less socially awkward, pray and hear from God more, avoid the hospital, get along with my husband, use less fragmented sentences when I write here, get used to the chaos that is being a mother to kids, and uuuuh, I don't know. Love people more. Worry less. Blah Blah Blah. I probably match every next blogger with these goals.

I'm sitting here blogging with a FurReal cat on my lap, wrapped in a blanket. She'd almost be real if her batteries weren't dead. In all of my Internet indulged days, I never imagined I'd one day be typing like this. Boy, kids. They bring you to a reality that is out of this world. And some people (who probably don't have kids) probably think they're not such a big deal. Especially because so many people have kids. It's not unique to have children, no. Yet the experience is so impossibly unique for all of us...no one really understands all of the ranting about children until they take the dive for themselves.

Good day.

Today I was so bored that I cooked a chicken dish, listened to techno music, and cleaned the inside of my refrigerator. I suppose some people would go see a movie or take a walk. This is what happens when you have two little people. Mommy, mommy, mommy. Wah, wah, wah. Life takes everything you have and then asks for more. So you oblige. As I'm dancing with River in the kitchen to this old techno music, it's almost like I'm re living a memory I have somewhere in my head. Of my childhood. Music playing and my mother cooking in the kitchen. Cleaning, and dancing, and cooking. So normal. But not.

(I want to rewrite my children differently. Can I?)

I want to let go and enjoy this moment with River, but I just can't. Not completely. And that's the dark side of who I am. I'm the kind of person that can have fun all night at a party, but then go home and cry. God, just like...I want to let go and have some semblance of peace, but it's so hard to let go when you remember certain things...like, for example, how finite life is. Why let go completely and relax? When you do, you just grow old and die and lose it all. All my children, all my work. Why should I love every moment when every moment is doomed to end anyway? This is where my thoughts travel when I don't pull them together. I'm not a naturally happy person, I have to work at it. My life circumstances really make it hard for me. But I have to pull myself together and remember things like God, Heaven, Love. The Big Picture. But even Heaven I approach with some trepidation, just because of its unfamiliarity. Yes, Christians aren't supposed to be afraid of The End. Well, I am. Because I don't know anything else besides what I've known here. And the mind that I have now can't even conceive of a life where I don't hold babies and my husband and have intertwining days of pain and relief. I'll miss them in that way, my family.

I just think too darn much. Way way way too much. I don't want to go back on anxiety medication. I don't really know that I need it...because then there are the Good Days. The days that encourage me to persist. One day life won't be so difficult anymore. I just need to believe that.

I wish that I could go back and be with John in New York again. In our little studio apartment. Before my life insurmountably changed. Even though we still needed so much, life was a lot more simple. Before I became pregnant and violently ill, anyway.We slept on the floor and then transitioned to a futon. Then we went into debt for a mattress and box spring. I bought an adorable blanket from Target to spread across it. I made this terrible dish consisting of boiled potatoes and onions, from what I remember. I forget if I was sick for these things. When I was sick, I probably used the bathtub and Internet as escapes. I had to come back to Maryland because I was bedridden a lot of the day, but I wonder what would have happened if I handled it better. Would we still be there? That's another topic entirely though.
I don't always interpret this parenting thing as sunshine and lollipops like some parents seem to. I wish I did. I wish I were the perfect parent, but the truth is I am nowhere near it. It would be wonderful if some day I forgot all the mistakes I've made already - and in the future a pink candy coating glossed their childhood, my parenthood. I know, I know. There are parents out there a lot worse than me. But there are better, too. I can be better. It bugs me. Two things that drive me the most insane are A) messes of any kind and B) an impatient or rough toddler being annoying/loud/dangerous/crying/getting in the way/throwing tantrums/being on repeat/you get the picture, lol/etc. But both A and B pretty much sum up a large chunk of childhood. So it's unfortunate that I let my patience wear so thin. What I need to do is get over it, because the truth is, I love them. I could probably never love anyone more. They mean everything to me, and I really can't imagine my life without having yet another one. I knew I've always wanted children. But there are just so many personal obstacles for me to climb before I can wholly enjoy them.
I really do wonder if I thought parenting was a joke though. When I saw that cute baby sock in the laundry mat in New York...which precipitated me wanting a baby. Oh, a baby sock, how cuuuute! Let's do it! Well...it's not a joke. It's the most difficult thing I've ever had to daily face (that, and some health issues I have...but I think parenting is more difficult than those, even). It's a lot of hard work, and my life isn't mine anymore. And the race is on to take care of little ones who need me all of the time, but not lose myself in the process.