Facing Fears

Face your fears.

It's an age old concept, and being a person with OCD living with two clinical psychologists as parents, one I've been exposed to often.

It's told to us often throughout our lives, referring to many different fears. Heights, spiders, you name it. But many people have secret fears that nobody encourages them to face because they don't know to.

Last week I faced one of those secret fears when I got my seconds done (second set of ear piercing). It's not an uncommon thing for people my age to do, but what many don't know is that I have an obsession with the idea of contamination. If I get so much as a paper cut I obsess over it getting infected, so the idea of letting a strange inserting a foreign object into my ear lobes terrifies me. However, I love the look of piercings and have always envied my friends who freely pierce themselves and look fabulous. So, after a conversation with my mum about getting back into more exposure therapy (basically 'face your fears' on steroids) I decided to go get them done.

Sitting in the chair watching the lady sterilise her gun and put on rubber gloves, I was terrified. I was even more terrified afterwards as I bought four bottles of antiseptic spray, knowing I'd use well more than necessary, as I thought of bacteria invading my body. I was more scared for the next week as I envisioned a severe infection beginning in my ears, flowing through my bloodstream and leaving me brain damaged. When my left ear became red and swollen five days later, I was completely petrified.

But then, my anxiety began to lessen. Not quickly, not completely. But a bit. And then a bit more. And then, I realised that as much as I fear contamination, as much as I fear germs and disasters happening and I fear being a terrible person, I also fear being afraid. I try so hard to avoid triggers and stay away from anything that will upset me that I never have a chance to face those fears.

Today, I'm not much less afraid of the idea of contaminating my bloodstream as I was before getting my piercings. However, I am happy and proud that I faced that fear and took a step in the direction of recovery and self-determination.

Don't Judge Me

Some people just go too far.

I'm currently in a double period of ancient history, sitting outside on the verandah because being in the classroom was getting to be too much. A few others are sitting out here too, including one friend who we have been having a lot of problems with recently.

She consistently goes too far. If the rest of us can be joking around about something slightly risque, she will take it over the line. If we are lightheartedly making fun of something, she takes it too far.

When thinking about how she takes things "too far", I started wondering: what is too far? While trying to come up with my own definition of too far, I found myself analysing my own thoughts and actions and wondering if I too have, at times, crossed the line.

So what did I decide was the definition of 'too far' when talking about someone?

• Saying something that would humiliate the person if they heard it
• Saying anything which suggests there is a fault in their tastes, personality or appearance
• Making fun of something they can't help

Making fun of something they can't help. 

This is a concept that has always angered me due to my own experiences with TS and bullying. But thinking things over recently about my friend, I have realised that I am a hypocrite. I am a very judging person. I would never treat someone differently for it, but when I see a person I will judge them on their habits, their abilities, their personality. I judge them for who they are. Who am I to complain and feel sorry for myself when others discriminate against me, when I judge others on a daily basis?

“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye."

~Matthew 7:1-5

God? Are you there?

How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts,
And day after day have sorrow in my heart?

I read Psalm 13 about 10 times last night. It was one of those nights.

As I read the words above, all I could do was cry and get angry at God. I sympathised with David when he wrote the Psalm, with that feeling of knowing God is there but not understanding why He does not take away the pain. Why some seem to go their entire lives with no real problems while others  experience troubles, abandonment and heartbreak their entire lives. Why some are born into wealth, love and opportunity while others never experience anything more than poverty, sickness and hatred.
Why he lets some people experience joy and happiness while others quietly die inside.

These are the questions that run through my mind and the ones I cannot answer. However, as I was upset and feeling angry at God last night, I realised what a significant step I had taken. For a while during my struggles, I had stopped thinking about and talking to God altogether. I was almost at the point of denying His existence, because I just couldn't comprehend how someone that amazing and loving could exist while there was such hurt in the world. I realise now, as much as I struggle, I am turning to anger towards Him, an acknowledgement of His power and control. At the moment, I think this is as good as it will get.

Hello there, people of the internet!

Hello there.

So this is my first blog entry, and despite having countless ideas running through my head all night about what I wanted to write about, I'm now sitting here staring at the computer screen, and my mind is completely blank.

I suppose I'll use this first post as an opportunity to introduce myself. 

I am (not really) Rose. 

I am in Year 11 and at a point in my life where things are really not going the way I want them to.

I have Tourette Syndrome, OCD, anxiety, depression and insomnia (yay). I do not want this blog to be solely focused on these issues, because I am more than my conditions. However, as they are a very significant aspect of my life right now, it is likely they will frequently make their way into posts.

I love to read. Reading is an escape for me, it gives me the chance to break away from reality for a short period of times. 

I love cats. It's a bit ridiculous really, but I am much happier at home with my two beautiful, fluffy babies than out socialising. Call me a hermit, whatever.

I also love babies, chocolate, the feeling of freshly washed hair, Schweppes Pink Lemonade and the smell of hairspray.

I dislike mushrooms, football, maths, the feeling of being ignored, Monday mornings, buses, Ask.fm, fights, gory movies, nights, mosquitos, ignorant people, lemon squash, odd numbers and hot weather.

I spend most of my time at home; studying, reading, online,making lists, studying, doing homework, writing, worrying, counting, listening to music, cooking, writing.

I am a Christian. This is an important one. The past few months my faith has been shaky, but I know I am and always will be a child of God.

I am strong. I am weak, and I am strong, and then I am weak. I am together and I am a mess. I am lost and I am found. Mostly lost. I am struggling, but I am not defined by my labels. Yes, I have several neurological and psychological disorders, but they are not me. I have them, not the other way around. I am not Rose with Tourette's and OCD, I am Rose who loves her friends and enjoys reading and wants to write for the rest of her life. 

I hope that people actually read this blog. I’m not going to use my, or anyone I talk about’s real name as a matter of privacy.

I’m not really sure how to end this… but I’ll be back soon to share more of my life.