It's not that life hasn't been interesting; it's that I have no idea how to talk about it.
A couple of months ago I realized my OCD was beginning to seriously impact my life. My mother was seriously ill and I had to abandon routines and schedules in order to go home for a couple of days to take care of her. It occurred to me in the car on the way that I was seriously angry and incredibly anxious. Not because my mom was really sick, but because her sickness was impacting my routines. I tried to convince her that she wasn't actually throwing up every 20 minutes because...that just wasn't going to work for me. I wasn't going to be able to do the things I NEED to do in order to keep my shit together. This was a problem. I've never really had an issue with keeping my issues from seriously impacting my life, but I was definitely heading in that direction. I knew I needed to start practicing the therapy again. Where you basically just don't allow yourself to succumb to your compulsions and wait out the anxiety that brings on. That was a really fun month. The thing about OCD is that you don't cure it, you only control it. Unfortunately, sometimes the things you use to control the OCD become things that need to be controlled. In my case, exercise, eating right, and going to bed at the same time every night help me control the worst of the anxiety. Things that are helping you slowly become things that you are compelled to do, that you can't NOT do. So I had to take some time off.
Later on, fabulous tales of watching movies I pre-hated (Eat, Pray, Love) and an hour long conversation with two women in front of a RedBox Movie Rental machine. One of whom has apparently studied the Bible very, very seriously.