Other Ramblings...

Friday, 2 November 2012

Meet Geoffrey.

So, after my last post, I've decided that I am not 'talking to myself', I am, in fact, talking to my OCD.

And I have also decided that I shall call him - because it is most definitely a him - Geoffrey, or Geoff for short.

I know that this might sound equally mad, and absolutely as though I've gone off my rocker and lost some of the buttons from my cardigan, but I've been thinking about it, and it really seems to help me get my head around what my OCD actually is, and what it means for me.

Because, although Geoff is another part of me, actually he's not in control.  He is simply another 'voice' in my head (not that I am hearing voices in my head...oh, this is so confusing and difficult to explain without making me sound like an absolute mad woman!) which I can choose to listen to, or not choose to listen to (that is the theory, anyway...).  Geoff, I think, will probably always be there now, but I can choose to accept him, and we can rub along together, or I can fight against him, which seems to make him more cantankerous.  It is easier to tell Geoff to 'shut up', though.  Much easier than it is to try and talk to myself.  I can tell other people that I don't want to do what they're telling me to do, and Geoff is just another person.  Why should it be any different for him?

To halt any worrying about the strange British girl who's suddenly started hearing voices in her head, I'd like you to know that I am indeed aware that my OCD isn't another little person inside my head, and I do know that the obsessions/compulsions are part of my brain, but it's just so much easier to think of it as not being part of me.  If I think of it as being part of me, then that makes me really sad because it's like there's something wrong with me when, in fact, I think that my OCD is just another part of me, same as I've got blue eyes and three wisdom teeth.

Geoff and I are off to bed now.  He says that I shouldn't be writing about him on my blog because it might make bad things happen.  I think he should know when he's not wanted...


  1. Kate, I've heard of people naming their OCD for the very reasons that you give, and that it can be helpful. In a novel I read (and reviewed on my blog), "Oxford Messed Up," the main character calls her OCD Oliver.

  2. Ha ha ha - I LOVE this post. This is great, Kate. And I don't think you're mad, I completely understand everything you said! I think you need to tell Geoff to shut up more often!

    My favorite line is "lost some of the buttons from my cardigan." Ha ha ha

  3. I agree! I love it and I get what you are saying!

  4. Thankyou for your understanding - it's lovely to have a little corner of the world where people don't think I'm entirely strange!

  5. I talk with my OCD, too. And my depression. That way, sometimes, when I have a disturbing thought, I don't have to address it directly, and instead can say something like, "Oh, hi, OCD, how are you today?" And I understand that it isn't hearing voices, but it can still be annoying. :)