In my latter formative years – which is to say my early teens – I adopted something of a romanticist’s ideology.

A view that centered around the preeminent importance of finding Love.

Not a passive, lowercase, normal-font ‘love,’ but a greater kind of Love.

One with a sense of weight & gravity to it.

One that pulled me in.

I was entranced by this notion of seeking Love for two main reasons:

First & foremost? I believed in the idea of love being our true raison d’etre…

…but also because I felt that in finding a partner I truly loved, I’d find the truest escape/repose from my sufferings with anxiety & depression.

While those dual, entwined notions still strike me as true – the reality is that I’ve fallen short of finding true love. Sometimes by misfortune, but more often due to my own isolation & incompetence (both being masterfully tempered by my neurosis & depression, but still – my character flaws through and through).

I hope things may change in time – that I might find someone captivating, witty, creative, & whimsical.

An Aphrodite of the heart & mind alike.

But, for the moment? I find myself simply trying to push forward in terms of life & self-betterment goals.

Finding love seems…difficult verging upon impossible at the moment. But growth seems ever-viable.

What ‘growth’ looks like, though, tends to vary based on the day.

So… Here’s my initial attempt at listing some challenging-yet-attainable goals:

• continuing to track [and rededicate myself to striving to reduce] my shower-times
• limiting checking compulsions [and striving to track how often I yield/buckle in doing so]
• working to reduce my use of disposable gloves [used at an incredible rate for cleaning, cooking, & much more]
• writing/editing [for ocdstories.com & in other capacities]
• tracking condo prices weekly-biweekly
• adding [likely modest] amounts to my savings account monthly

More goals/tasks abound, so additions seem inevitable. But… The first three goals are linked to my primary mental illness: OCD (shocking – right?). The latter three goals are tied to my efforts to develop this site, grow other stories, and work towards making an offer on a condo in the near future.

In this moment? Those goals each seem clear and actionable.

But I’m all too aware of how quickly my neurotic thinking drains my energy, dampens my mood, and narrows my focus. How it limits my ability to even think. And also how much depression funnels me into inaction with ease.

Lofty goals mean little without constant (or damn near constant) efforts of pursuit.

Only the coming days will tell if my words ring hollow or true.

Here’s hoping.