Conquering Your State of Anxiety by Kirsten Pagacz

Author:Kirsten Pagacz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mango Media
Published: 2022-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

The researchers found that the students consistently rated the statements that were repeated as more true and valid every time they were repeated. It is known as repetition and the illusion-of-truth.

—Ben Parr, Captivology

Usually, Monkey’s repetition made things seem more truthful. Now his unrelenting repetition made it very clear to me that it was my OCD talking!

I started chanting, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Kirsten, you have got to get it together!”

But Monkey kept at it. In his sinister voice, teasing and tormenting again and again: “Mary is going to kill you.” And he said that like he was doing me some kind of favor by giving me the information!

I tried with all my might to just touch the cold tile floor with the palms of my hands and fingers and focus my eyes on the tile and not look at the images of Mary stabbing me. Then I said out loud to myself my learned and practiced steps. “This is OCD! Reattribute: Chemicals are misfiring in my brain. Refocus: I am going to do something else. Revalue: This is just OCD! This is just Monkey. Goddamn it, motherfuckinggoddamnsonofabitchasshole! Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I pounded my fist on the cold tiles. “I do not have time for this bullshit! Enough is enough!”

Just then, a much softer and sweeter voice came out of me. Get up, get up! It’s as though I was having an out-of-body experience. I was like an observer, looking at the trouble I was in. I was above, coaching myself in the boxing ring. I was there to encourage, dry off my sweat, and give myself some smelling salts. Get up, get up! It was no longer just me and Monkey. I felt my angels close; they were standing by, watching me with profound hopefulness and belief in me.

Through my madness I was still able to feel my desire to marry Doug pumping in my heart. I asked myself, What would someone without OCD do? And I answered, They’d get up and go get married.

I wanted to be that person. My love for Doug and desire to be with him were stronger than my desire to please Monkey and listen to his battery-acid-like sermon. Love is stronger than Monkey. I could finally hold on to this thought. Yes, Monkey, you are right; I will be killed by Mary, but I am pressing on anyway! I was risking the dreaded experience and getting myself out there.

While swallowing, I tried to suck all of my tears back into my eyes and face. Although I was there on the floor, I was also in a newfound spot within myself. I was focused like I had never been before. I was floating in the middle of anger and passion. I felt decisive. I stood up erect like a Viking warrior wearing an elaborate wedding dress, hands dropped to my sides, facing forward toward the door. My racing heart had to catch up with me; composure became the name of the game. I opened the door.

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