I’ve been getting overwhelmed for as long as I can remember. Things affect me and I react, sometimes unhealthily, to the stimuli. Take, for example, the time I moved myself to Caracas at the age of 23. I thought I was prepared for this adventure. Two days later when I lay dehydrated on the floor of my shitty motel, finally drinking Gatorade after being paralyzed with fear for a full 36 hours, I realized that I wasn’t as prepared as I had thought. I stayed, though. Even through the “coup”, I stayed. My unhealthy reaction evolved into an embrace and turned out to be one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.
When I first learned that my unhealthy way of reacting to life’s stressors and overwhelming moments was OCD, I was forty and on the other side of the globe in “paradise”, aka Kaua`i. It was less aha and more of an oh fuck moment. Suddenly, everything clicked and all of my life’s decisions, reactions, and mistakes made sense. To know that the time I had been convinced that the mercury in my cavity fillings was causing a significant health problem was more OCD and less deductive reasoning was embarrassing. To finally understand why I often find myself counting steps was eye-opening. To realize that a major move to Hawai`i was, in part, inspired by a compulsion to avoid was humbling. It stung like a mother and I licked my wounds for quite a while. Then I got a couple years older and, by default, wiser.
Aha/oh fuck moments come with them a whole lot of reflection. After thoroughly reviewing many of the events of my life through this public publication, I have finally come to a conclusion about myself. I am a rock and an island, somewhat like the ones that Simon & Garfunkel sing about but far more social and a million times less jaded. I say this not to be immodest, I say this because it is true. I have heard of people being completely paralyzed by OCD’s grip and are unable to live the one amazing life they get. We’re talking never-leave-the-house kind of paralyzed. In fact, I know people like this. For some reason, my flavor of OCD has never completely tied me down. I have punched and macheted my way through its thick walls and overgrowth in order to have the experiences I want out of life. Fear still grabs me, has its way, I get overwhelmed, and curling up into the fetal position seems like an appropriate way to react. But I don’t back down, don’t curl up, and probably never will. It’s not in my DNA to surrender and I like being this rocky island that laughs at all of life’s shitty forces.
This year, so many have reached out and thanked me for putting mental health, shit, and humor into words. “You’re so brave” they tell me. No I’m not, I’m just me and I’m done pretending. That’s not bravery, that’s radical acceptance. Talking about myself has been easy because I have nearly 42 years of being inside my head. It is time, however, to move forward and away from discussing just me and OCD. After all, obsessing over having OCD and confessing just about anything is all part of it so I imagine that this entire year’s worth of writing could technically be construed as a compulsive act. If it is, I don’t give a rat’s ass. There are far less healthy outputs for me to have chosen. Evergreen & Grey will continue on in 2020 with an outward focus. Less me, more the other rocky islands I encounter in this thing called life. Humor through shit, evergreen through grey. If you have a story to share, I’m listening. And, if you haven’t already…subscribe! I will always aim to entertain.
P.S. I’m looking to have Evergreen & Grey t-shirts made for loyal subscribers;) If you have an idea or connection, let me know!