At least, this is what I'm telling myself right now.

It seems to be the cure, because I'm always anxious about something. So if I do XYZ, then I won't have to worry about this one thing.

The problem is that the thing my brain is currently freaking out about (did I exercise enough? Did I ask the right question during the interview? Did the person I was interviewing think I'm a dumbass?) really isn't relevant to what I'm actually anxious about, which is the boatload of uncertainty in my life right now. Being compulsive fixes these little worries (do more exercise, double-check the interviews, nitpick over their transcriptions, analyze the questions you asked) but it really does nothing to address that big, looming question.

But at least that one worry is fixed, right? At least then that's one thing I don't have to worry about.

Except that outside of my OCD-wired brain, I'm not actually worried about these things. They're a smokescreen. Or a record that gets stuck. You know, the old black vinyl circles that our parents (and occasionally some of us aged bloggers) used to listen to. If the record got a scratch, the needle couldn't translate the sound right because it got stuck on the scratch. It couldn't play any further. OCD is like that stuck needle, playing the same annoying two-second stretch of song over and over and over again. It can't get off of it unless you get up and physically move the arm. The entirety of the album is like my overarching worry. Focusing on every little scratch doesn't help you listen to the album.

(Am I totally dating myself here? I owned several records when I was younger, one of which was a Sesame Street album, and also a Debbie Gibson record. There were others that I'm blanking on. Good times.)

So metaphors and reminiscences of the 80s aside, it's easy to over inflate the importance of these nagging worries. Sometimes yes, they do need to be addressed, but sometimes it's just your brain getting stuck. It's easier to focus on silly things you can do something about that a ginormous, looming fear that you can't quite articulate.

Of course, when these nebulous worries plague me, my brain gets stuck more easily. It's almost primed to get stuck on every stupid little thing that comes my way. I don't deliberately try to focus on the minutiae, but that's just where my brain goes. Then I forget all about the big picture because I'm caught up in ridiculous details like "is the fact that I exercised for 27 minutes instead of 30 going to make me gain 10 pounds?"

One not-so-irrelevant detail is that it's bedtime, and sleep deprivation doesn't help one bit.