Express-yourself

02/02/2025

Echoes of Rituals: A Day in the Mind of OCD

The alarm rings sharply at 6;00AM, marking the beginning of another carefully planned day. I open my eyes to a familiar, heavy feeling in my chest. The first thought rushes in, it’s my mental checklist—the never ending checklist, every task has to be executed with flawless precision. This is not my routine; it’s a structured sequence that cannot fall through, or my day will spiral into chaos.
I sit up and proceed to set my feet on the floor, the coldness on the floor seeping into my skin as I count silently one to ten. “One, two, three, four,....ten.” The counting is a rhythm, a way of controlling myself as I make my way to the bathroom. And the ritual of handwashing begins, exactly 28 seconds. No deviations allowed. Soap and water intertwining in a way that must meet my precise duration. Any lapse ignites a voice of doubt in me: Are your hands really clean? The thought will push itself in, sharp and persistent, until I start all over.
But today, I’m trying something new. I’ll be taking a pause, a breath that interrupts compulsion’s grip. My therapist’s words echo softly, like a lifeline: “It’s just a thought” So I take hold of that reason, even as the urge tugs at me. It’s just a thought.
The morning blends into the afternoon, a series of rituals defining my day; how my table is arranged, how I read and reread my emails. Even the simplest “Thank you” email I sent gets scrutinized three times before it’s sent. It’s a compulsion that briefly calms the storm of ‘what ifs and worst case scenarios.”
Launchtime arrives, another challenge for me. When I eat, I chew for a specific number of times at every bite. It’s a ritual that my coworkers always notice with an amused glance. But today, there’s a small breakthrough: I swallow a bite after counting only to eight instead of ten. The room is steady, no earthquakes. The sky is not falling too. And I feel what feels like victory.
As the day winds into evening, my rituals persist. I lock the door but not without the process of double checks and rechecks, to ensure that each click of the lock, each tug of the handle, are being done accurately, until my doubt slowly turns to a murmur. Bedtime arrives, and it comes with the final challenge: intrusive thoughts becoming loud in the quiet.
But I have a journal I keep on the nightstand, its pages worn from use, filled with affirmations and small documented wins. My fingers brush over the cover, and I open to a familiar line, reading aloud: “Not every thought is truth. Not every ritual is necessary. Not every process matters.” These words do not silence my thoughts, but they ease their hold on me, just enough.
I lie down, my heart still racing but calmer, my eyes slowly closing as the mental checklist in my head starts to fade. It’s another day endured, another day met head-on, with small significant steps that feel fantastic.

01/02/2025

The Voice Of A Forgotten Companion

I remember how I was carefully handpicked by you, “I love this model!” You exclaimed to your dad. I noticed the way you covered my face with a guard so I wouldn’t break myself when I fall, yet you never gave me a chance to fall—you prevented it like your life depended on it.
Slowly I became your best friend, your favorite company, your connection to people and the internet.
I appreciate your care and love for me, and I love the fact that you became my owner.
You chose me when you were 18, when life wasn’t bad and all you had on me were good memories. But now you are 20, and a lot has happened.
Do you remember when you said “Yes,” to him? I was bothered at first, thinking you’ve gotten a better person to replace me. But it turned out I worried for nothing. I watched how you stay glued to me, sending tons of text to each other back and forth. I remember the way you giggled when he sent you love stickers—and your smile the first time he said, “I love you.”
How I wished it lasted, but it was just for a fleeting moment. That jerk! He ruined everything—you hardly picked me up, and whenever you did, you were hoping to see a text from him pop up on the screen. You couldn’t handle it, those three words he sent to you—”Let’s Break Up.”
Slowly I watched the light fade from your eyes, all I saw through them was pain. I tried to cheer you up with memes and reels, but they only made you laugh for a few seconds, your pain wasn’t reduced.
It’s sad how you switched from Cardi B to Billie Eilish and Adele. But it seems their songs somehow made you feel better. And that new friend of yours—It’s a good thing your path crossed.
You didn’t get over your heartbreak alone, but you got over me too. You got tired of me over problems I couldn’t control; full storage, unnecessary hanging, and my inability to download specific apps due to my model.
“Dad, I’m tired of my phone.” You said, looking at me from the couch you were sitting on with disdain. I wish I could do better, but did you know I was in my weak moment?
It was two years of ups and downs together, and I never regretted each day I spent with you. I can’t feel the love you humans feel for each other, but if there’s a feeling like that in my world, then I won’t mind saying it to you—I love you.
“Are you swapping or paying for everything?” The lady behind the counter asks. We are now currently at the store where you plan to get a new phone.
“Yes, I”m swapping. I want a model better than this one.” I can hear the tone in your voice, you seem to be very happy you are parting ways with me.
Minutes later, I watch as you hold your new phone, looking at it like you’ve just been handed a gold. You pick me up, and I know what you are about to click—“Factory Reset.”
60,59,58,57………1,2,3….
“Thank you so much, I really like it. It’s exactly what I want.” A lady in her early twenties says as she walks away from the store.
I feel like I‘ve been used before, but I can’t remember who my owner was. How long do I have to wait before someone else comes for me?

31/01/2025

The Words Of The Broken Mirror

You know after you wake up in the morning, you’d stand before me — stretching and yawning. And I’d take in your features; your disheveled hair, wrinkled clothes, and tired face. My job is to be your reflection; I’ve always enjoyed doing so.
The smile on your face after you’ve successfully tried on a dress, “I’m so beautiful.” You’d chirped to yourself.
I’ve watched every part of your body grow beautifully. You are undoubtedly wonderfully and fearfully created. You used to be cheerful and never had to worry about your looks, so what happened to you?
I saw how you changed; the way you looked at me — the disgust in your eyes. You’d stand in front of me for over thirty minutes, measuring your body, with tears streaming down your face.
You never said it out loud, but all your actions screamed, “I hate my body!”
“You have to eat.”
“I am not hungry.”
“Why are you not eating?”
“Because I’m full.”
That was the regular conversation you had with your parents daily. You complained about being fat and having a humongous body in front of me, making me feel like I was doing a bad job at reflecting you. It hurt me to see you break down in front of me, while you try to push in your tummy with all kinds of tummy belts.
Two weeks later, you came in with a doctor’s report. You stood in front of me with it, “The doctor said I have Anorexia, and it’s making me see things that are not true about my body.” You leaned in towards me, “But that is not true — mirrors don’t lie.” A tear dropped from your eye, and you went straight to bed.
Yes, I don’t lie. But your Anorexia is powerful enough to manipulate your reflection. I wish I could tell you the doctor is right, that you are more beautiful than you think, and your body is perfect. Yet the moment that tear dropped from your eyes, I knew I couldn’t convince you.
I was hoping seeing the doctor would help you conquer your fears, and face anorexia head-on, but instead, I only saw how you pathetically look into me, hoping to see something different from ‘You.’
You started going through the cycle of ‘if only, rigorous exercises, and the rituals of checking your weight.’ Hoping that something would change. But eventually, at the end of the day, you’d stand in front of me, wondering why you are still the same.
And the day you threw a mug at me, I was broken — shattered into pieces. I was broken beyond repair, but I didn’t mind because you are broken too. If breaking me would end your suffering, I’d gladly be broken a hundred times for you, but I guess that’s not how life works.
For now, I am out of your sight, since nobody uses a shattered mirror, and I hope the fact that you can’t use me anymore grants you the peace you deserve.

31/01/2025

I Am Love, I Am Rage

I am love and I am rage.
Not just a little of each — but a whole lot of it, whelming up in my heart. My heart gushes with a wave of emotions that swells too high, too fast, and leaves me drowning in myself.

I love with an energy that scares me deeply and fiercely. One moment I could hold you in my arms and never let go, another moment I push you away, afraid that one day, you’ll leave me first. You see in my world, love isn’t warm and cozy, it’s not home, it’s not safe. Love is a thin line I walk on, trying to balance myself with every step I take.

I can love you like when the moon embraces the sun. I can love you like the moon loves the stars, but I can also burn you like the sun that sets abruptly in the day.

I give all of myself, I give all of myself — every piece of me, without much thought, without batting an eye. All because I want to be enough for you, I want to be your everything. But when I can’t be, when I fail to be, I crack and fall apart.

Then my love comes with questions. Do you love me as I do? Am I being too much? Do you still want me? Are you going to leave me? Am I not good enough for you?

I don’t know how to keep the fear away, the fear of being abandoned, the fear of watching you slip away without even knowing why you are leaving like you’ve always wanted to leave. It’s like a needle under my skin and I can’t stop it from pricking me. It’s actually a voice in my head that’s always screaming “Not again, you are also leaving me, not again.”

So, I rage….I rage at my heart that feels so fragile, rage at the people that can’t see what’s inside me, rage at myself for loving and holding on so hard, I rage because I feel too much and I’m afraid it will be too much for you. Terrified that you’ll be gone one day, and I’ll be left here all alone, I rage. And the rage burns me, it burns me to the ground.

I can love, but I rage too. And I don’t know how to hold both at the same time without falling apart. But I still carry them, like heavy rocks, because that’s who I am, and the weight of my heart.

I am the fire that can warm you and the fire that can consume you. I hold a flower in my right hand, and a sword in my left hand. I pull you in with my right hand, and I stab and push you out with my left hand.

I want to trust, I want to believe that the love I give is enough for you. That I am more than enough for you. But sometimes I need to just let it out. I have to scream, cry, and throw tantrums to let the rage out before it consumes me. I don’t want to be left alone to burn.

So I ask you, can you love me? Can you stand with me despite my rage, even when I pull you in and push you out a hundred times? Can you hold me together in the places where I’m broken, and still see the part of me that is worth holding onto? Can you accept my love and endure my rage?

✍️Phoenix

21/04/2023

*LETTER TO MY NON DEPRESSED FRIEND*
Dear non depressed friend, I remember calling late in the night and told you about my pains and asked if there’s something that could take my pains and self-hate away? I told you I was tired of everything and I feel like I don’t wanna live anymore.
You said “You just need to be better at dealing with it”. You told me su***de is not the end of my pains, that i will only transfer the pain to those I left behind. You told me I can save myself if I’m willing to stop overthinking every little thing. You said there are things about life I will miss, like the yet to be released movie I anticipated, the album I’m yet to listen to. You told me to wait for my true love that perhaps a kiss from him might be the cure since my loneliness might be as a result of not being in a relationship.
Dear clear-headed friend, how do I explain it? How do I make you understand? I mean, how do I make you see, that people like me can’t be saved in that way? Will you try to understand me better if I say pushing my pains away is not really in my hands? What I’m going through is not like an headache or a back pain that can be cured with swallowing painkillers or by taking a nap.
You told me I’m being really selfish, that I have everything already. You said “what do you have to be depressed about?” You told me there are people out there dying of hunger and natural disasters. You told me to look at those who have been displaced by wars, that I should be thankful for the privilege I have. Like I don’t know, like I don’t know there are people in the world suffering from what is far worse. But do you know that I’m trapped in a big world I created unconsciously for myself, that I don’t even know what’s real or what’s not real anymore.
Dear non depressed friend, I wish you wouldn’t have to overlook the things I struggle with. I wish you know how broken my body is and how shattered my soul is.
You don’t know that what you are doing is not helping me but rather it’s pushing me into living while I act like my pains do not exist. And that will only drive us apart. Then I will be isolated without a friend, will you be okay with that? Because I won’t be.
So, don’t stop me from trying to fight my demons. Let me reach out to people and seek help, let me find people like me. I know you mean to help but your well-meaning advice won’t fix or help me in anyway. Instead, you can help me by showing me support by saying things like “This isn’t the ending. You can beat this!”, “I’m here”, “I got you”. Those words alone will help me more than you realize. Help me by taking me to a counselor or a professional who knows well about my plight.
God knows how much I love and care about you. And the last thing I would want is to be separated from you due to my depression. So, I hope you’ll understand why I’m writing this to you.
I love you, please take care.

*~phoenix~*

15/09/2022

Nothing is hard, nothing is easy. It all depends on your mindset. Sometimes we see what we want to see and believe what we want to believe. Just like an illusion we create a different world, a world that’s far from reality.

09/09/2022

Most times we keep our emotions to ourselves because we are scared of the potential consequences our words and actions might create. But the important thing is to express ourselves in a way that produces positive results both internally and externally.❤️❤️

02/08/2022

Sometimes speaking to someone might actually help you a lot.

What you feel is important!
What you have in mind is important!!
Your mental health is important!!!