Finding GOD in the OCD

I texted them last night: How do I distinguish between the voices in my head that tell me over and over to do things being OCD or being God? 

There are no easy answers–to that question or the other questions I’ve been asking lately.

If we operate under the assumption that everyone has a purpose, and that I got a second chance at life because I have a purpose, what about those who didn’t get a second chance? Do they not have a purpose, or was their purpose to die? And if so, what kind of messed-up God makes that someone’s purpose? 

Sometimes I question myself into a spiral; actually, I question myself into a spiral quite often. OCD does that: once a thought gets into my head, I can’t get it out. On repeat, over and over again, evolving, evolving, evolving, questions, questions, check on them, check on them, what if, what if, what if. 

I’m still here. I must have a purpose. But why do I not want to be here? How can I have a chemical imbalance and a purpose? How do I reconcile the fact that God is good with the fact that what happened to me happened? How do I exist in that overlap?

How?
How?

How?

This is how the spiral starts, continues, ends.

God has to at least exist within the realm of my OCD thinking because I can think myself into spirals by asking tough questions that have no answer, but I can also sometimes be content with sometimes not having the answer.

And maybe therein lies the answer to my first question: How do I distinguish between my OCD thoughts and the voice of God?

Maybe God lies in the contentment.

In the crazy chaos of OCD-induced repetitive thinking, calmness.

Contentment in the spiral.

I have to check to make sure they don’t hate me. They hate me. They hate me. They hate me. 

I have to text them because the voices in my head are screaming at me, and texting them gets rid of them.

I can’t tell if the nagging voice in the back of my head telling me to check to make sure they’re ok is the OCD or God.

I have to check. I have to check. I have to check. I have to check.

Breathe. Breathe.

Quietness in the storm.

Contentment in the chaos.

God exists within the realm of my OCD thinking, hope exists within the realm of my repetition.

God exists.

God.

Exists.

Exist

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