One of the things that I hate the most, and drives me the most crazy about my OCD and anxiety is the overthinking. Today has not been a bad day. Today has not been a great day. It’s been a day. I took two naps one of them was 45 minutes the other was about an hour. I sat outside on my new patio chairs that I got for Mother’s Day for a little while. I washed a couple of loads of laundry and hung them on the lines. I brought the kids to karate with hubby, and went to the grocery store with hubby. (I don’t seem to go anywhere alone anymore).
Breakfast lunch and dinner was Coco pebbles. I wore indoor and outdoor clothes. Use hand sanitizer’s and a Clorox wipe and my daughter licks me. I had my hubby open doors so that I wouldn’t have to touch them. I didn’t use the public bathrooms and held it till I got home.
So there was no major revelations no major changes it was just an “eh” day. But now my mind won’t shut off. “Does this mean the antidepressants are working?”, “Does this mean I’m getting better?”, “is this just an anomaly and tomorrow’s going to be terrible?”, “what makes today different than yesterday?”, “my OCD is still really bad and I’m incredibly anxious that I didn’t cry at all today so does that really mean that it was an “eh” day?” And it goes on and on and on.
I do know in the rational part of my brain that I am still depressed because I am completely and utterly exhausted despite the fact that I slept more than eight hours last night and another hour and 45 minutes in a nap. And I still have no energy or desire to do any of the things that I enjoy or used to enjoy doing. But it’s almost like if there is a day where I don’t cry or scream at someone then I start to get my hopes up that everything’s gonna be OK but in reality I know it’s not over it may never be over.