Not a Game

“My wiring has gotten all mixed up.”

My life with OCD is like a game of operation. You know the one, with the tweezers and the inaccurately-sized organs and the overly-loud buzzer that lets you know every time you have failed. Except my buzzer is broken and instead of reaching for little plastic organs, I’m reaching for goals, loved ones, basic necessities. My buzzer goes off constantly whether I’ve touched something or not, an incessant alarm going off in my mind warning me of a non-existent danger. It’s loud; much louder than you or me.

My wiring has gotten all mixed up. And while your buzzer only goes off when necessary, mine goes off always, a constant impending loss or risk. Unlike the game, there are no laughs or do-overs when the buzzer goes off. No longer a game.

Though you cannot hear my broken buzzer, I can. It has become my reality; the world I live in. Though you cannot see the danger or feel the fear. I do. I feel it all too much and too convincingly. But I do feel it. It is just as real as your buzzer.

From the outside it might look like a silly and trivial excuse. To you it’s a game. But to me it’s real life. Life with a broken buzzer. Life with OCD.

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