Control.

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The mind is a beautiful yet mysterious wonder.  It can sense unease and react in ways that attempt to protect us.  My mind is in disarray.  My thoughts muddled, as if saturated in treacle.  Everything it intense, yet muted.  How does that even make sense?  This illness is such a contradiction.  People talk at me, their voices muffled like blurred out extras on a film set, yet other noises pierce through my mind like nails on a chalkboard.

I wander about in a dream-like state, making little sense to those few that I come into contact with.  ‘The Grammar Queen’ who cannot even contemplate using ‘text talk’ is sending messages that make little sense.  My mind is fogged with the depths of blankness.

As I feel myself slip deeper and detach further from those around me, survival mode kicks in and an all-consuming need to control my environment overwhelms me.  It is so true about what they say, “Tidy home = Tidy mind.”  My chaotic thoughts of late have been further encouraged by the disarray in my surroundings.  And so sub-consciously I have taken control.

My home which usually has a lived-in but cosy look is now under my constant scrutiny. Everything must live in its place.  No it cannot be returned in an hour or so.  It must be returned, right now.

I am not this kind of person.  I am not a controlling person.  I am not a neat freak. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t live in a pit but there is more to life than neatness and order.  Generally.  Just not right now.

I realise that my behaviours are compensating for the lack of connection and control that I feel with my environment and social interactions, yet I still cannot help myself.

I want to be me again.  I want to feel.  Really feel.

Have a beautiful and carefree day!

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