I haven’t brain-blogged in ages, which is a good thing: it used to be the more I blogged about OCD, the worse it was (and, conversely, the worst it was making me feel). Prior to Sunday I’d been symptom-free for months. Like, completely symptom-free. It was glorious.
And then, on Sunday, I lapsed.
What happened? A bunch of things, actually. Consider this:
- I got engaged. It was pretty much the greatest day of my life; it was also the culmination of over six months’ planning, none of which Sam had an inkling about until the morning we left for Calgary. Hey, speaking of Calgary…
- I went back to Calgary for the first time since moving away. The weirdest part is how it didn’t feel weird at all.
- I’ve been going non-stop since April. Since April 7 I’ve flown around the world; gone to Nashville for a bachelor party; seen Pearl Jam three times, including once as part of a weekend in Ottawa; planned a surprise anniversary party for my parents; stood up for my cousin at his wedding; finished the Ride to Conquer Cancer; gotten engaged; and, just this past weekend, gone to Stratford and Buffalo.
- I didn’t sleep well Saturday.
- I gorged on sugar candy last week.
A lapse isn’t the same thing as a relapse, which can happen when a OC sufferer lapses and immediately discounts all the gains they’d been making. I don’t think I’m at risk of doing that…but that knowledge doesn’t make me feel better right now, which of course is what I want.
And so now I’m taking evasive action, starting with two of the pillars of any successful recovery: I’m going to bed earlier* and eating better. (* – this will absolutely not apply Saturday when I see Guns N’ Roses.) I’m also aware I’ve been slacking in the personal fitness department since crossing the finish line in Niagara Falls, and so it’s back on a regime of biking (and biking to work, if the TTC could deign to reopen the College bike lanes) and running with Sam. (I’m going to fail spectacularly at my goal of running a half-marathon this year; I’m willing to blame my knees for one more year, and in fairness they still do get sore really quickly after I run.) And I’m going to write. I don’t know what I’m going to write about: music? Mental health? Wedding planning? (God help me.) It’s therapeutic. And it’s something I realize now I need to make time for, as opposed to just sitting back and waiting for inspiration to hit. I’m chasing after inspiration now–chasing after it for its own sake, but also because it makes me feel a lot better during times like these.