OCD Episode: Anhedonia

Here.

That’s it. Here. I don’t want to say I feel nothing, because I feel so little that even expressing such a feeling would not do justice to how I am feeling. I feel nothing. I know I can feel joy and I know I could be rather anxious right now. Those feelings are locked up behind concrete right now. All feelings are. I am just…

Here.

This isn’t bad, but I want it to be better. This isn’t good, and I want it to be better. I have no reason to feel nothing, I have not gone through any trauma in a very long time — years, in fact. Maybe sooner, but still years, yes. So I am not numb because of something, I am numb for no reason.

It is so very difficult to describe nothing, it is quite the challenge. And at this moment, it of course is a challenge that is giving me neither anxiety nor happiness as the words come out and form. Which is generally a beautiful thing, except when it is frustrating to get the right words. Those feelings are not here right now. Nothing is.

I want to tell the world I have nothing to say!

I want to tell the world I have nothing to say!

I want to tell the world I have nothing to say!

That makes no sense both on the surface and in terms of process. But it makes sense to me right now. As I am, merely and only…

Here.

I’d rather feel this way compared to other things, but I can’t live life feeling this way forever. Oh, and of course I think this is going to last forever.

When I say “there is no joy” I now mean it in the most literal fashion. Now, hopefully not forever. I would rather feel the lack of joy knowing that my OCD or anxiety is holding it back. But nothing describable is holding back the joy, other than it just cannot be accessed.

Nothing. Nothing good, nothing bad. Nothing.

Other than…

Here.

I could repeat myself now, that is all I can do. A circle of…

Here.