Dear Fellow Warrior,
There is so much to say sometimes. Way too much...It’s all there. All in the head. The ruminations.
I even started a document called Ruminations while I work on my Academic job applications because I cannot seem to get myself to concentrate, in part because of the shame and guilt I feel for yet again delaying my applications, in part due to my perfectionism paralysis, and for all this time that passes by.
And in part because of how the Ruminations seem to increase due to my stress levels. This recognition, this insight, this incredible enlightenment and self-understanding of my own condition, beyond the professional prognosis, connecting-the-dots within a broken brain, or GPS system, should be sufficient enough to tell the world about who I am.
Someone fighting for change, both within her and around her. Even as she remains hostage to the past, to no fault of her own. Fighting to break off those mental chains that have locked her up all these years. Fighting for freedom.
Every day, I am pacing, pacing, so I can manage the 15 billion thoughts, thoughts that I refuse to believe to be false. Some are true. Most are true. Most are absolutely true. Why?
Because I am also a social scientist.
I am doing the research. Both for my condition, and for the Bigotry and Stigma that people with my condition face, when accommodations or lack of empathy, compassion, and love don’t exist.
And my obsessions, the intrusive thougths, make me do the research. Both the actual research and the connecting of dots that makes it all make sense.
I spend hours of my day navigating this, because my condition forces me into fight mode, survival mode, into finding something that could help me cope.
I wish sometimes that my computer wasn’t slow. And that I was a better writer, so I can share my thoughts, and make my thoughts make sense. This makes it harder to be able to release the pain, the catharsis.
So then, in my private space, I say it outloud. Writng it by hand in my journals happens as well, but it is still slow, especially with my carpal tunnel pain. Sometimes I think that God has given me this carpal tunnel pain to stop me from writing, from sharing my thoughts with the world. S
Sadly, the world is stupid, merciless, and heartless. I am supposed to be afraid of being authentic and real and honest with my emotions and thoughts. I am supposed to be afraid of sharing these thoughts because it would make my science less credible, right?
If I am wrong, then why not tell me. Talk to me. Communicate. Engage. Why be a coward?
Narcissism. Ego.
People don’t want to be “outed” and revealed for their insecurities and vulnerabilities which are visible to those of us who have the capacity to read people well. And you won’t think that we do, but that is partly what has made a relationship with us, challenging, because we read people well. We know things. I know that I know things.
And even if I have gotten the help in the past, I have known things about people, things have been visible to me about people and I was right. Others across so many spaces have told me, sometimes years later, that I was right.
But that is what it comes down to. That label “Crazy” helps them solidify their internalized narrative, by making you, the most vulnerable person, the villain of the story.
People will do everything possible, use anything that appears to be a weakness against us.
OCD is a personality disorder. A real debilitating, incurable condition, a disability, that is protected by the law.
But how can we prove the stigma against these conditions of the brain has reinforced our suffering? People, those who pretend to care about curing stigmas, talk about these conditions and these stigmas as if it doesn’t actually happen to people in their lives, and as if they are not participating in these actions that stigmatize, demonize, and dehumanize people.
Millions of people suffer with chronic ruminations, with OCD, and life is already debilitating when you have it…
Imagine living with these conditions, with no one who understands, who is willing to see your heart passed the condition, who is not going to use the illness against you. Not having anyone who is willing to be there for you, not one friend who checks in on you from time to time.
I share this with the world, and the world scapegoats me, the most vulnerable person, rather than taking a second, a step back, and realizing that Dr. Elsa is correct in her assumption that it is a very cruel world out there, that people are selfish, narcissistic, cruel, and that bullies target the most vulnerable, “the weak.”
When I see Simon Sinek talk about how he always had that one friend that would pull him out of the crisis situation he was in… it means it’s possible. It cannot be your parents, a generation before you that has denied that you have any condition, but still provide you the security, economic support that South Asian parents always feel obliged to do, until you are married. The truth is, you wouldn’t need any of that economic support at a certain point in your life if you actually had the consistent moral support of a Friend.
That talk was with Simon Sinek and Trevor Noah. They were discussing friendship, and how we were never really taught how to be friends. That’s true.
It was always too much for anyone. No one wanted to be there for me or listen to me, not because it was such a grand expectation on my part, it was because I wasn’t valued and loved by them enough to take a second to call or reach out in a substantive way. When I didn’t answer because I was hurt, they would blame me, that Elsa isn’t talked to us, when really, they weren’t communicating and offering support and being supportive. If the very people will blame you for any anger or turn your pain, your legit suffering back around at you, why would you think it would be beneficial to talk to them.
They all blamed me, and they will continue to blame me. And my suffering will always continue, because of their stigma, and their refusable to communicate, their refusal to learn how to be a good friend, brother, or sister, to someone with OCD, anxiety, depression, suicidality. People need to be reminded that this is precisely what that bigotry and stigma is for mental health. You would check in on someone who broke a leg or suffered with cancer, but you wouldn’t check in on the one fighting to stay alive.
I have been off Instagram and Facebook, and it has been difficult because of the addiction of finding a connection online with anyone. You can’t blame me for wanting to find connection. Everyone deserves a community, everyone deserves a support network. If you don’t have one offline, you try to build one online. That’s all I did. People from my offline networks saw that I was trying, and they didn’t engage, didn’t connect with me there, and me sharing my life and being vulnerable in the only spaces I can be authentic, led them to not want to connect with outside my online spaces.
Of course, its’s my fault. It’s me. The person with a big heart, who gives so much, and barely gets anything in return. The person who is the real victim, survivor of emotional and physical abuse. They say don’t make yourself the victim, don’t think the world is always against you, but what if you actually are the victim? Why have I always had to be in survival and fight mode? Things actually did happen to me, and that were out of my control. That’s life, right. So if it is normal, why is it not normal that I am hurting. Why do you have to dehumanize or demonize my hurt?
I will stop here for today, even though the intrusive thoughts continue, my dear fellow warrior, thank you for reading my stream of consciousness. I think I may have to do SOC sometimes on here to help with the pain and the stress I am enduring these days. And I won’t share any of it with anyone in my networks because it just hurts when they don’t care, and I have to accept that. I was in denial that they wouldn’t care for me, I was in denial that I didn’t matter to them, and perhaps I am still a little in denial. You categorize people who need a little assurance, just a little extra attention and love sometimes as being needy, but this is a part of that stigma. You decided to put me in that category of people… rather than someone who should be engaged, supported, who deserves an online support network.
I see the others who have it. Why can’t I? Why don’t I deserve a tribe? What do I have to offer? So much. I give you so much of my heart and myself, and alongside that, wisdom and courage and love. I have to empower myself, I have to advocate for myself too, especially as I am fighting against all odds and the adversity.
They may never see these words. But I write to find connection, even through the stream of consciousness. And I hope perhaps something from this, my articles, my journals, my blogs, can have a stronger impact.
Okay, the thoughts will never cease, which makes it harder to do anything else in life, but engage and honor that intrusive thought.
People will never understand this. People will think its unreal. People will deem me lacking credibility for every aspect of my story, and for the social science, for my words. But I still have to share the words.
I had big dreams. And I deserve a chance to fulfill them. Because I have proven and provided all the reciepts that I can achieve my dreams despite my OCD and depression. My four diplomas are sitting in front of me on my desk right now. My PhD was proof that I could do it, and if I just find the support network, the community, the space to be authentic, the loving and nurturing environment, the people who will accept me for who I am, who know that I am a kind person with a big heart, and a job with healthcare, I will be okay.
It is tragic. My story… it’s tragic. But I am still here. I am still alive. and I must push through the intrusion.
Thank you for reading, my friend. If you made it here, you are truly my friend.
And I hope I haven’t scared you off. I hope you will stay.
Even if I have to call myself the Warrior KQueen in this space.
Even if some things don’t make sense to you.
You will stay, because you have seen me. You have seen my heart.
And that is what I pray I can do.
I have let the world I know, from high school all through the way through my PhD program, “other me” and demonize me for my condition, and I will not let you do it to me for the rest of my life… I will not hide my truth. I will not be afraid of the stigmas, bigotry, and conventions that tell us to mask our suffering. I will rise above it all.
And I appreciate you, fellow warrior, for being there, and for rising with me. Because I am the kind of queen that will take others with her when she inevitably rises…
Solidarity, Peace, Warmth, and Blessings,
Your Sister, Dr. Elsa, Warrior KQueen
“She wasn’t looking for a Knight. She was looking for a Sword.” – Atticus
********
Thank you for reading and engaging!
You can learn more about me here. If you feel inspired by my writing and would like to support me, you are welcome to do so HERE.
I also welcome discussion. Please feel free to use the comments section below. Thank you, I wish you well on your academic, writing, and artistic journey!
1
0