I can’t pinpoint the time it happened. I’m not sure if it was a gradual process or abrupt, but it’s likely it was building before I fully registered what was happening.
My grandpa passed away, alone, in a veteran nursing home. He was the light of my life, the anchor of my family. I was laid off from my work and found myself with abundant time to process the increasingly volatile news cycle.
Stripped of the intellectual stimulation and the routine, my obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) spiraling, I slipped into a state I hadn’t seen in some time.
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