Dark Fiction - Obsessive Crumb Disorder

Obsessive Crumb Disorder

Written by Casey Douglass

This piece was written for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) awareness week 2015. I hope it is a way for non-sufferers to get an idea of how easy it is for anyone to slip into OCD.

You are walking home through the forest, following the path you always do. You are tired; it's been a long day. A deer shoots across your path making you flinch in surprise, your heart racing. Silly deer! you think to yourself. You walk on, the twilight of sunset casting strange shadows on the leaf-strewn ground. What if I'm lost and I don't know it? No, that's just silly! I walk home this way every day! A feeling of unease grows inside you as you walk on, going left past the knobbly tree, or should it have been right? You live with these thoughts all the way home.

The next day you have a day off work but decide to go for a walk and to take a picnic to eat in the forest. You like the forest, it's lovely this time of year! No sooner have you crossed into its leafy embrace when you remember your fears of the day before. Being quite bright, you stand and try to work things out. Okay, I know it was a silly thought but I still feel like crap. Maybe..maybe I could use some bread from my sandwiches to mark my path home. I won't be long enough for the birds to eat them so yes! That's what I'll do! You pull a smidgen of bread from your sandwich and, thinking to thwart the breeze, press it into the crack in the bark of a nearby tree. Feeling a little happier, you go on your way, leaving bread in all the right places. You still feel anxious, anxious enough not to fancy eating much of your second sandwich when you stop at the meadow in the middle. This upsets you, you hardly ever are off your food.

As you head back home, another thought crashes into your mind. How do I know I'm following MY bread trail? What? As if there would be more than once person doing that at the same time! What if someone left a trail and they never found it? You might find their trail and meet the same end they did! You see a crumb in a tree and walk up to it. Check the bread. You lift your uneaten sandwich and compare the colour of the crumbs. Looks the same but still, someone might have just bought the same bread as you! Your heart is pounding. Maybe check how the bread feels? You roll a crumb from the tree between one thumb and forefinger while you do the same for one from your sandwich in the others. Does it feel the same? Yes I think so. I'm not sure though. I'll find another tree and try another crumb, just to be sure! Day turns to night, warm turns to cold and light turns to dark. You do get home in the end, but any thought of entering the forest again fills you with such dread that you think you might never go in there again. You sob a little. You don't feel well, and what is that rattling coming from the washing machine? Does it always do that? You'd better check, just in case.

This story was written to illustrate how easily fatigue, shock (the deer) and a random thought that becomes hard to shake can give birth to an entire head full of catastrophe and fear. Just a day in the life of an OCD sufferer. Think before you take it too lightly, it's not a life style choice, it's a mental prison sentence. Visit here for more info on OCD: OCD UK.

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Dark Article - Obsessive Compulsive Disorder Version 2.0

I've written a small piece about the interactions of my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and Technology / Geeky pursuits, about how it always catches me out and why it just plain sucks in general. There is hope though. You can read it on Geek Syndicate here.

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Chronic Illness and the Writer's Path

Sometimes writing takes on the aspect of being called on to do a public speech at very short notice, the blank page mirroring the expectant faces of the audience as they await your words. Your chest might tighten, your hands might tremble and your mind unleash a host of unhelpful thoughts about your abilities and your right to even try.

As with many things, even if you are strong enough to not worry about what other people may think of you, the voices in your own mind may well be the hardest hurdle to overcome. Yesterday I wrote a short paragraph that could have led into a quite satisfying story but anger flared and I deleted it as I declared it to be “A load of bollocks!” I then felt ashamed at treating myself that way. It is said over and over and over by experienced authors: “Write first, judge later!” or words to that effect, so why didn’t I do that yesterday? Who knows?

My health has been very poor, both mentally and physically, so it could have been pure frustration that writing one crap paragraph took more effort than seemed worthwhile.

My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder has been dragging away parts of my life for years. While I have made what I feel to be good progress in many areas, the ones that are left are particularly hard to deal with. It is a mental disorder that is very treatable and I have had various help and treatment over the years. There is nothing else left for me to try, but as with many things, knowing and doing are two different things. I know my OCD inside out, what is going on, why and what I need to do, but when the fear grips you and your body is in fight-or-flight, that is far easier said than done. It still claims a large amount of my time and energy; energy I can ill afford to lose.

My Chronic Fatigue Syndrome forces me to rest for hours on end, my body trying to deal with the pitiful demands I actually ask of it. CFS is a very misunderstood and devastating illness, and far more needs to be done rather than just diagnosing by exclusion, spouting trite advice and then being baffled when the very unwell person fails to improve. I was relieved when I was given the official diagnosis of CFS some 12 years ago, having a name for how I was feeling and some measure of recognition. Now I see it for what it is, a license to be pushed aside and forgotten about, all effort to really find out what is wrong seemingly ending overnight.

I very rarely mention my illnesses on this site as I wanted it to be all about my writing and less about me. I know that, by virtue of the processes involved, my writing is about me in many ways, or aspects of me, but I don’t feel I have blatantly revealed much of myself in this way before. I think now is the time to inject more of myself into this site, especially the parts of me that play such a large role in who I am and what I do. I feel ashamed of being ill, inferior, jealous of others and bitter about life. I am also working on these things and trying to accept myself for who I am.

I am really trying to do something with my life, and have been for many years, but the struggle and strain skewers any feeling of progress or achievement, comfort or connection. I have things that I am thankful for and I know things can always be worse, but damn it, I’m exhausted and about ready to drop. Writing is my thing, the thing. Those blank pages I mentioned at the start of this piece? They won’t be blank for long, even if it’s not words, it will be something of me, a doodle, a rant or a smear of blood from my bleeding hand. Whatever it is, it will be something!

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