A Poor Excuse Of An Extended Metaphor

Date: Friday, 25th August 2023

Topic: OCD

Okay, so. You're waiting for the results of the test which will tell you whether or not you're sick. It doesn't matter what illness you suspect you might have, it only matters that you might have it, and you don't yet know for certain. What are you going to do now? Well, you're going to do quite literally anything which helps in the short term, because otherwise the stress is going to kill you - or alternatively, you're going to kill yourself - before you make it to the long term. It doesn't need to be a conscious decision. It doesn't need to be much of a decision at all. What other option is there; what else can you do that isn't to live with that awful uncertainty?

And it won't help you, you're aware of that; it won't prevent you from becoming sick if you aren't already, it can't heal you if you are, there's no connection between (most of) what you're doing and the outcome you're hoping for yourself. Maybe sometimes you're deliberately nudging at that fear, trying to map out every part of your body and double check that everything still feels fine. Maybe, sometimes, you let yourself think that this one thing or another could be a step in the right direction. Think that quietly, because you don't want to jinx it. It's just something to do. It's a distraction, it's a relief, it's some little way to take away the fear for a while. You might be dying - but give it half an hour of your time, and you're guaranteed ten minutes where you don't have to think about that. It takes so much energy to do nothing, do something, convince yourself of the truth that there isn't anything you can do to change the results of that test. You're so tired.

Nothing really helps for long. You ask for reassurances, you grapple with the guilt of having other people assure you that you're fine - because if you're not, you made them lie, or you somehow misled them into thinking you're better than you are so you're the liar. You think back to how you felt before, if you'd felt any different, if you'd noticed something was wrong. But there's a day or two or three where you can't recall the details, so what if you've hidden some early warning sign away there? You live in the moment and get lost in there, repeat silly little routines again and again, because the next time might be the one where it (and you) finally feels normal. Everything is temporary, because at the end of the day, you really can't know for certain until you're called in for a follow-up appointment. And this whole thing finishes unravelling and falls apart completely at this; you will never get an answer! You will live the rest of your life with that uncertainty, or you will kill yourself because of it, but you will never know! Isn't that insane? It doesn't end. You don't get an ending.