This post is inspired by Goldie’s Mental Health at work post, but also by me touching a broken glass this morning.
I only realized its state when I saw a puddle of blood on the kitchen counter.
It was a tiny cut on my finger and it didn’t hurt.
But the blood kept on flowing.
It was also now on my favorite white shirt, on the dough I was kneading and basically anything else I touched.
I started washing my shirt, but the stain didn’t come out.
I had to mix another sticky dough, which is never a fun task.
And even after I thought I cleaned everything I touched, I saw a dark red spot everywhere.
Out of desperation I started crying.
I already knew then that this was going to be a wasted day.
That’s basically what my OCD feels like.
Very tiny things that shouldn’t bother me, cause great distractions and emotional outburst.
I get impatient and end up not doing things according to my own rules, which results in doing the whole routine again. Just like my dough.
Even when I consider to “just forget about it and tomorrow is another day”, I get reminded by it. Just like that dark red spot of blood.
My OCD is everywhere and tiny things remind me of it, unfortunately.
I try sometimes challenge my with metaphors.
I previously did this in my post Was the view worth the climb? (Rescheduled post 10-2017).
Have you ever written a story with a metaphor or are going to?
Let me know in the comments and please link your post 🙂