ClippedWings
Member
- Nov 30, 2024
- 94
By the time I was 18 years old, OCD replaced my true identity with itself. Because intellect serves identity, my intelligence served this false master. It used symmetry to feel safe. How? Because symmetry = beauty = order = control = safety. My broken brain had an overactive fear system, like a motion sensor that triggers from the wind. OCD locked my true self away in a prison for 13 years. Then, my intellect built, brick by brick, a fortress around myself. Ironically, in its attempt to keep me safe from irrational and imagined threats, it killed both itself and my true self. Why? Because it denied my true self, which would have pursued a positive delta in life, aka growth. I would've been pro-social and been on tons of dates. Gone to events, worked hard, played hard, and banged hard. Because of this, the underlying insidious degenerative disc disease and full body acne would've needed to be addressed promptly. I would've gotten proper negative feedback by life and people, and that would incentivize me to fix the issues. Instead, OCD turned me into a rotting recluse living only in low-light and neurosis. So, my degenerative disc disease became permanent nerve damage and pain, and my acne is full body scarring.
Only after my second back surgery have I learned who I was really supposed to be. A pro-social, charismatic, passionate lover, leader, risk-taker, womanizer, serial dater, and on and on. But instead, the following happened. I was excluded from humanity and lived in double solitary confinement for 13 years. I now know the exhilaration and madness of life. How swelling and magical it could've been through my imagination. But, my deep, deep mental and physical ailments disillusioned me. I now think life is evil and would never risk recreating myself.
I write this 6 weeks before the date of my voluntary assisted suicide.
It would seem that the best I can do is act as a cautionary tale for others. So, before I pass, I will try to write some advice on how to at least avoid my catastrophe.
Only after my second back surgery have I learned who I was really supposed to be. A pro-social, charismatic, passionate lover, leader, risk-taker, womanizer, serial dater, and on and on. But instead, the following happened. I was excluded from humanity and lived in double solitary confinement for 13 years. I now know the exhilaration and madness of life. How swelling and magical it could've been through my imagination. But, my deep, deep mental and physical ailments disillusioned me. I now think life is evil and would never risk recreating myself.
I write this 6 weeks before the date of my voluntary assisted suicide.
It would seem that the best I can do is act as a cautionary tale for others. So, before I pass, I will try to write some advice on how to at least avoid my catastrophe.
