The Prison

My brain never stops thinking. I wish I could relax, but I can’t stop reliving some things, like the trauma of going away to school. Psychologically, I am a mess. Maybe I’m not alone in this:  we nonspeakers have all suffered trauma simply by not being in control of our bodies. Totally, I am lucky in that I learned to spell relatively early in life. I often think about those who learned at much older ages…or those who will never learn. And then my heart starts to pound and I feel the panic on their behalf. 


The loop of thoughts is endless. I am a prisoner of the OCD:  I cannot do things I want to do if the OCD isn’t ok with it. For example, I really want to join the Wednesday songwriting group, but that requires a change in schedule.  I really want to be in it, but that change is likely too much for me. I can’t tell you how traumatizing it is to not be able to do the things you want to do. My world is so restricted by the constant need for sameness. I want my world to open up to new possibilities and adventures.