Memoir Monday: Foreword
OCD and Me: A Comical Tragedy and Tragic ComedyAlso titled:Where Did I Put the Lysol?
Looking from a perspective on the other side of Normal, I am the Other Normal and I spy something red.
You ask me, Idea?
No.
Mineral?
Nope.
Vegetable?
I hope not.
Animal?
At times.
The answer, my friends, is none of the above. The red that I am seeing is multifaceted. It is my blood, my anger, my red. Why am I angry?
My name is Beth Overmyer, and I suffer from clinical depression and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder…and, to top all that all off, I am a recovering and relapsing cutter.
This is not a self-help post. I cannot help you. I cannot heal you. I cannot share my Lysol, because you might’ve touched something taboo before you came here.
And while it’s tempting to call this something other than a stuffy memoir, that’s what it is. So, why read this if I can’t help or heal you, especially when I’m suffering myself? Maybe you should close this window now.
If you are suffering or have suffered from OCD, these posts are most likely not for you, so pass the link on to your loved ones, because it’s really for them. It’s for the other side of our Normal. You and me, we’ll chill together sometime over a fat latte in our own world of Other Normal where we don’t talk about anything deeper than our fake lives. Leave the healing to others. It’s your family and friends that need to understand. So drop this post like the poison it is. I don’t want to give OCDers Ideas.
If you are a Cutter, maybe these posts are for you. Maybe they are just the right poison for you.
If you are depressed, these posts should be your poison of choice. I am you. You are me. And we are on both sides of Normal and Other Normal, because, let’s face it, we’re a majority.
Where does my tale begin? Where all good stories begin: With a kiss.
__Author's note: This is just a look at part of me. If you're offended, I'm sorry. I'll post the next entry right after this, so stay tuned for more of Memoir Monday
Looking from a perspective on the other side of Normal, I am the Other Normal and I spy something red.
You ask me, Idea?
No.
Mineral?
Nope.
Vegetable?
I hope not.
Animal?
At times.
The answer, my friends, is none of the above. The red that I am seeing is multifaceted. It is my blood, my anger, my red. Why am I angry?
My name is Beth Overmyer, and I suffer from clinical depression and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder…and, to top all that all off, I am a recovering and relapsing cutter.
This is not a self-help post. I cannot help you. I cannot heal you. I cannot share my Lysol, because you might’ve touched something taboo before you came here.
And while it’s tempting to call this something other than a stuffy memoir, that’s what it is. So, why read this if I can’t help or heal you, especially when I’m suffering myself? Maybe you should close this window now.
If you are suffering or have suffered from OCD, these posts are most likely not for you, so pass the link on to your loved ones, because it’s really for them. It’s for the other side of our Normal. You and me, we’ll chill together sometime over a fat latte in our own world of Other Normal where we don’t talk about anything deeper than our fake lives. Leave the healing to others. It’s your family and friends that need to understand. So drop this post like the poison it is. I don’t want to give OCDers Ideas.
If you are a Cutter, maybe these posts are for you. Maybe they are just the right poison for you.
If you are depressed, these posts should be your poison of choice. I am you. You are me. And we are on both sides of Normal and Other Normal, because, let’s face it, we’re a majority.
Where does my tale begin? Where all good stories begin: With a kiss.
__Author's note: This is just a look at part of me. If you're offended, I'm sorry. I'll post the next entry right after this, so stay tuned for more of Memoir Monday
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message 1:
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Suzanne
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Apr 28, 2015 07:43AM
That was rather deep.
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Suzanne wrote: "That was rather deep."Thank you, Suzanne.
