Job talked about how his days are swift and spent on futility and darkness. What is my life? I have everything I need but every single day I’m showered with doubt and the flames of hell are ever before my conscience. It’s not even that I want it to be I want to believe the love and grace of God.
But every-time I believe it for a time the doubts return, I’m always suppressing how I actually feel. There’s never real relief it’s simply a coverup when in reality the pendulum of my sanity swings to the left and right and is based on if Jesus at last will say to me: “I NEVER KNEW YOU.”
Fear is all I think about, it’s second nature to me. I understand why people self medicate and do drugs to escape reality because even I’ve wanted to. Though it would destroy my body I don’t think I care enough for it to even matter to me.
What words of comfort can I tell myself that I don’t already know? If I am wicked woe is me if I’m righteous I can’t lift my head up. I’m tired of talking about it, wondering if I’m “reprobate” and if God hates me I’m over it all. It’s such futility
How much time has been wasted with me thinking like this? Where if I was normal and had complete assurance of my soul I would make my life a living sacrifice and nothing could stop me from progressing. But here I am stuck in this black hole, sleep is my only escape. Money can’t fix it, words can’t fix it. There is no rest for my soul.
MY STORY OF RELIGIOUS OCD 