Not Otherwise Defined

NOT OTHERWISE DEFINED

BY PETE ROSCH

I am not really defined by my OCD, but some days it feels like I am. It dictates my behavior every minute of every day. It is perpetually in doubt as to whether I am doing things myself, or because I’m compelled. Meaningful moments outside of spelling are few and far between. Every moment is permanently possessed by compulsions. But I am not my OCD. Nor am I defined by my diagnosis of autism. I am Peter Rosch, fried food aficionado, reader of poetry, lover of music, and writer of this blog.

10/7/2024 0 Comments

Trying Medicines

Getting the right medicines to help us can be difficult, but it can also be life altering. My parents have been trying to help me, but it was only in the last month that they succeeded. I want to say that Abilify barely made a difference but I cannot, as it would be a lie. It damn well changed everything. I feel like a new person. Using a scale from one to five, where five is the worst possible, my OCD has gone from a five to a two. I can think more clearly, and my thoughts are happier. I am calmer by a factor of a million.

So for all you parents who feel guilty for putting your children on meds, maybe it’s time to feel guilty for NOT putting them on meds. I was suffering more than I can say. I am not cured, but I am so much better already there are no words. For the sake of your suffering children, I can only beg you to consider trying. It can take years and scores of medicines that fail first, but in the end it is worth it.

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9/23/2024 4 Comments

My Cognitive Brain

The thing about typing for communication is that it’s respite for me. While I’m engaged in the process of talking, my OCD vanishes. I want that feeling of freedom to last forever. I believe that the act of typing forces my brain to disengage from its idiotic loops. I’m likening it to watching TV and not hearing the doorbell ring. I’ve realized that my brain cannot think about two things at once. Thus, thinking about what I want to say precludes me from thinking about where Judy’s laminate boards are or the seams in my pants or that my mother’s bag is on the floor not her shoulder and the bathroom that I don’t really need but must use anyway, and so forth.

That is why typing is respite. We get stuck in patterns of thought just like our bodies make repetitive movements. Maybe Judy is right when she tells us to “get into the cognitive brain.” My cognitive brain is a wonderful place to be. I wish I could stay there forever.