Unwind. @peaceful-undertones - Tumblr Blog

OCD: Obsessively, Compulsively Devoted

So my partner makes it a point to tell me that my brain is not weird, it's different. And with those differences come enhanced strengths. Usually when he says this he means I'll never forget the sunblock because even though I remember putting it in the bag I need to check at least five times before leaving the driveway that it is in the bag still.

Recently, I've opened my mind up to this train of thought. And you know what I realized? Our OCD makes us ideal partners. And I think what I mean by that is that we are ideal for each other, specifically. Others may find certain parts of that kind of love appealing, but never until him have I found someone who wanted and accepted and appreciated all of it.

Some examples of our crazy perfection:

We physically cannot leave a conversation unfinished. We make sure the other has gotten everything off their chest and acknowledge their thoughts.

We are incapable of not checking in. Even if it is a stray "I love you" or lovey emoji when the other is busy. We both go nuts when we haven't checked in.

We worry if we are doing enough for the other compulsively. Who wouldn't want their partner to deeply desire (more like need in my case) to improve their relationship?

We validate each other obsessively. Without hesitation. Without question. A million times if necessary.

Something I think needs to be addressed about this kind of love, though, is that our perfection comes with frustration. He reassures me he doesn't get frustrated with me and I reassure him as well. But I think we both know that it still happens. It's not that we are frustrated with each other; we are frustrated that we can't always take the bad away, understand fully what is going on with the other, or make it better with a text or phone call. For me, sometimes the only outlet I have for that frustration is in my communication to him and he may feel the brunt of those feelings. I feel awful when that happens because I know sometimes he can't help but feel that he is causing it and that might trigger an insecure feeling. I am trying to learn to redirect my energy to prevent that. But the best part is that he listens. If I explain what I was feeling, he trusts me and can reevaluate. He is so emotionally secure and receptive.

So I guess what I am trying to say is that loving someone with OCD isn't always easy. There are missteps and rough patches. Loving someone with OCD does not mean you never feel frustrated. Frustration is normal and healthy. It is what you do with that frustration that matters. Loving that person or letting someone love you means accepting that frustration will happen, not ignoring it or expecting perfection to always look like giggles and doting on each other.

Loving with OCD is possible, unique, and beautiful.

#ocd #i love you #love #loveislove #i love him #lovestruck #mental health #loving with ocd

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@five_o_clock79

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Between Doors

Maybe you have heard the adage "one door closes, another one opens". But no one really talks about the steps between the doors. Sometimes we linger at the threshold of that closed door for awhile, clinging to the old normalcy. We haven't been in the dark hallway for awhile, we aren't sure what it holds. Do you dare turn around and look for another door? It is dauting.

So when I felt one door in my life closing, I stood in that doorframe and thought for a long while. Months. And then I heard a voice in the hallway. Someone who had been standing in their doorframe for longer than I had been. They were venting into the void about their frustration. In the moment I could not place a name on the feeling I felt when I heard that voice. I know now that it was a beacon calling my soul home.

Me and the voice began our conversation from our doors. The voice reminded me of who I have always been. Strong. Worthwhile.

We met in the dark, daunting hallway for the first time. There was panic. I retreated back to my door feeling that I was doing wrong, wondering if I should force my way back through the closing door. The voice was persistent. I remained on my doorstep watching my door close.

I knew there was a countdown. I also knew there was nothing left for me behind that door. So I took hold of the doorknob and pulled it shut, soon it will be locked and officially left behind.

Here I stand in the hallway, which has transformed from a cold, fluorescent-lit tile corridor into a sunny street. I am seeing houses pop up with open doors. Opportunities I have lost sight of. My vision is less obscured. My heart growing. My soul having space to breathe. Here I stand with my bags packed, waiting on my ride. Enjoying my meetings with the voice.

There is a huge house at the end of the block that is still a little blurry when I try to look at it. But I see the beacon shining bright. In my soul, I feel myself being driven there. There are other doors I will be exploring for my career, my happiness. But I know I will be moving into that huge house at the end of the block in the future. A mansion with a million new doors and new doors being opened every day.

And that voice? He's a person. A wonderful person. And he sits in his door frame with his door closing, too. We meet in the street sometimes now in the sunshine. His countdown might be a little longer than mine. But he has reminded me of my patience. He will be moving into that mansion with me and those millions of doors to happiness and security. It may take some time; but we are here for the ride.

So here I am, between doors. Enjoying the sunshine. A little unsure of my steps, but growing in confidence every single day. Letting my soul breathe.

#simple

bruwho

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Be at one with nature 🌳

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Loft in Ferrofinestra by MC A

peaceful-undertones

Oh my word. I would never leave.

I'm so impossibly sad and angry and hurt.

I feel like someone stuffed TNT into a bowling ball and rolled it. I feel my momentum building up as I travel farther and faster. I feel the heat in my cheeks as the friction threatens to light the wick of the explosives.

I don't remember any of the things that could act as buffers to slow, stop, or lessen the effects of my explosion and destruction. When I have this momentum and try to reach out to grab onto logic my hand misses my goal. I wish I had a list. I tell myself next time I'll make one.

So I roll down what feels like a never-ending hill, picking up speed, picking up heat. Unless there's a million pillows or a way to stop at the bottom, I will explode. Someone will get hurt or burned by my anger.

I will myself to remember the things that can stop this bowling ball bomb. I will myself to protect myself and those near to me.

I will myself to direct toward the ocean. At least there the destruction might be hidden.

I will myself to have peace.

I pray for peace.

#venting #love #chaos #poetry #anger #sadness #imagery #desperation #im so upset #original #original work #talk to me

How can Chaos be calm?

How can I make peace in my life when all I’ve ever been is the raging sea ruining other people’s beach days?

How do you change the fibers of your being that way?

Do I change or do I hide? Move the tides into currents beneath me and rage below instead of above? Is that worse in a way, can I do more damage?

The worst part of being Chaos is knowing that some people like you like that because they can try to control you. They think since they have pieces of Serenity and you don’t they are better than you, more deserving than you, more intelligent. That’s hardly the case; would I have made it this far without you if we really weren’t created equal?

Is it better to have broken bits of Serenity and incomplete peace or to be entirely Chaos, sure of who you are and what you can do?