On a Serious Note.

Well, I managed to survive Halloween, barely. I really did have several moments of absolute panic when I thought of my kid reaching in all those bowls of candy. Like, full-blown anxiety attacks. And now I think I'm going to have to either wash my hands every single time after touching any of the candy to open for my daughter, or else put the candy away for a couple of weeks until I think all the potential cold germs have died slow suffering deaths. That doesn't account for the bum-bum germs on the candy though. Do bum-bum germs ever die?

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I'm still seeing my doctor to try to get this OCD under control. So far she's got me on a cocktail of medications so wild that it would blow your mind and destroy your pansy liver, but you see, my liver is made of steel. Things don't affect me like they affect the typical person: caffeine, alcohol, painkillers, all medication really. And that sucks.

Certain symptoms of mine are much more under control (I was seeing her for atypical depression as well, so long as we're airing my dirty laundry), but the OCD is completely untouched. I'm on 3982743279.5 drugs and my OCD is all, "IN YOUR FACE, SUCKER! You can't TOUCH me!!"

And I'm on some hardcore shit. I take all these pills and sometimes more each day:

If you look at this, doesn't this kind of look like a sideways infinity symbol? Fitting, no?

And do you think they're working for my OCD? In a word:

That is to say, 

So I don't know what to tell ya. I'm still seeing my doc on a regular basis, and we're still tweaking this and increasing that and adding this, but right now, OCD still has the upper hand, and I still constantly tell Maya "DON'T TOUCH!" and use hand sani up to my elbows 259 times a day and shroud my baby in Saran-wrap and so forth.

Honestly, I've lost faith. When motherfucking KLONOPIN didn't do jack squat for me, I lost faith. I truly believe nothing can calm down my OCD symptoms, mostly because, see, I still believe I'm right about the things I'm afraid of. I still believe know there ARE germs on things like restaurant tables and ketchup bottles and McPlaguePlaces and people's hands and doorknobs, etc. I will never be OK with my baby slobbering on a shopping cart handle or making out with a Saint Bernard.

There's no drug that will make me forget that there are germs on things, and I don't think there are any drugs that will make me be OK with me or my family ingesting or spreading about those germs or not washing them off at our earliest convenience.

When I was seeing a shrink about this, he said there was a little tiny blue area of the brain responsible for panic or fear or worry or concern that you could turn up or turn down. He said mine was obviously cranked way, way up. (Thank you Captain Obvious!! Now here's 300 American dollars for your diagnosis).

He said that medication could easily crank this "blue area" of my brain down. He prescribed meds. Then later my other doctor prescribed meds. Lots of meds. Lots and lots of meds. But it's just not working. I don't think anything can crank it down. I really don't. I think the little blue area of my brain will stay cranked up to red. Code Red. Forever.

I really do feel hopeless about it all.