He’s tangled again. Tangled is when his OCD is off the charts and moving a shirt twelve inches can cause a thirty-minute screamfest. I’ve talked to him this morning about the ways he hurt other people yesterday.
“Do you understand that your words hurt them?” I ask.
Tears. “But I need—”
“I will listen to what you need later. That’s not the question I’m asking you. Do you understand that they were hurt by what you said?”
“I know you are hurting as well. That’s so clear, sweetie. What I need you to know is that the words you used when you had your breakdown yesterday caused hurt feelings. I believe you can learn to use kind words, even when you’re hurting. What do you think?”
“I think I’m going to remove my existence from other people so that my OCD can be happy. I don’t think I’ll be happy, but my OCD will be able to control what I need to be controlled.”
And that’s a snapshot of what it looks like with my son’s self-awareness and my continued need to provide safety for everyone in my life. This journey with these different brains is baffling, difficult, ongoing and . . .
Love to all of us, including the different brainers, on this path.