Apparently, I Still Care

It was 6:20 a.m. and I was about to do my workout when an inner voice whispered, “Look at your blog.”

I usually try not to get distracted by something else because it is never just a minute or two, and I have a schedule to conquer.

Still, I clicked on my blog.

And suddenly, I felt my whole body become light, as if I could no longer feel the ground under my feet.

The page said:

“This blog is blocked and will be deleted.”

I could not understand why or what had gone wrong.

I immediately requested a review and a new decision because I genuinely believed I had not violated any community rule.

Then the waiting started.

And I felt upset, robbed, and completely misunderstood.

This blog is like my little child.

I admit that I do not have as much time as I wish I had to work on it, create more, or write more often. But it is still a huge part of me.

It is part of my voice.

And, in many ways, part of my own therapy.

I once wrote about building this little sanctuary brick by brick, and I think I only understood how much it had become mine when I thought it was gone.

I decided to continue with my day. I did my workout, made breakfast for everyone, and went to work.

But the stress stayed with me.

There was this emptiness filling my lungs and sitting there like a brick.

I wanted a solution.

I wanted my blog back.

And I have to admit something: I did not realize how much I cared about it.

When I got to the office and tried to open it again, it still did not work.

That was when I started crying.

So much work.

Actually, forget about the work for a moment.

This was about something much bigger.

This was about me being brave enough to face my OCD.

To write about it.

Some of the hardest things I have written are also the ones I once felt most afraid to say out loud — like what a single intrusive thought can do to an ordinary moment.

To share parts of myself that are not always easy to share.

To put thoughts into words and hope that maybe, somewhere, they could help someone else.

That has always been the reason behind this space — to say the things out loud that might help someone feel less alone.

And suddenly, with one click, all of it was taken away from me.

I think this was a very important lesson for me.

Lately, I had been wondering whether I should continue writing and spending my time on this blog.

I was questioning whether it was worth it.

And then, the moment I thought I had lost it, I realized that it was far more important to me than I had allowed myself to admit.

I know that not many people read it yet.

I know that Google still does not index many of my pages.

But I hope — and honestly, I pray — that someday someone who really needs it will find a little peace here.

That would probably be the best reward I could ever receive.

Because I know how hard life with OCD can be.

My eyes are filling with tears while I write this.

The next day, I came to work and decided to try opening the blog again.

IT WORKED!

I honestly became speechless.

It felt as though a huge weight had fallen from my shoulders.

I was excited, relieved, happy, and incredibly thankful.

I do not know whether this blog has the potential to become successful.

Maybe this is another reminder that I do not have to wait for something to become perfect before I allow it to matter.

I do not know how many people will ever read it.

But I do know one thing now.

I am keeping it.

It is my space.

My diary.

My voice.

And you are always welcome here if you find even a little support, comfort, or love in it.

Apparently, I still care.

A lot.

THANK YOU!

Maybe Your Story Belongs Here Too

That has always been the reason behind this space — to say the things out loud that might help someone feel less alone.

If you have a story of your own — about OCD, intrusive thoughts, motherhood, anxiety, starting over, or simply one of those messy parts of life we rarely talk about — I would love to hear it.

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You may also like:

• Building a Sanctuary, Brick by Brick
• Start here — if you’re new
• “Did I hit him?”: Surviving the horror of Hit-and-Run OCD thoughts