Every night, I take some time to read poems from some of my favorite poetry books I have. I've been marking some that particularly stick out to me with sticky notes. My books end up looking pretty worn and messy, especially with bent edges of various colored sticky notes adorning their pages. One night, I sat staring at the book in front of me, and found beauty in the messiness I held. It was an unusual feeling, because anytime things are out of order or not perfect, I feel uneasy, frustrated, like the world is closing in around me. My mind is unable to focus on anything else until I feel settled. I wrote down several thoughts I had about my OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) and how these sticky notes were some sort of symbol to me about overcoming my obsession with perfection. It rules pretty much every aspect of my life, but at the end of my notes I wrote, "OCD doesn't have to rule my love for poetry." I then wrote a poem with the opening line being, "Poetry heals-"
With everything that's been going on, life has felt completely out of control. One of the things I've been struggling with the most is my OCD. In trying to ease anxiety and find control, my obsessions and compulsions have felt stronger. In the 7-8 months that I've been working on overcoming my OCD, many of the things I had worked through came back with a vengeance. I recognized new habits forming as well. I can't tell you how many times I've done my breathing exercises in the last few weeks, how hard I've tried to do exposure therapy, but mostly end up clenching my fists and rationalizing my way out of letting things go.
"It's a stressful time, so it's okay to give into all those compulsions and obsessions. No big deal." *throws up peace sign*
As I said in a previous blog post, giving into those things isn't the end all be all of trying to overcome my OCD (and mental illnesses in general). I've been trying to not beat myself up for all the intrusive thoughts, the incessant checking of things, constant tidying, reorganizing, and several other symptoms I experience in living with OCD. Despite not trying to put so much pressure on myself to be "perfect" in relation to my mental health, it is still very frustrating to live with OCD. My medication has helped to alleviate some symptoms I experience, but it's obviously not perfect. Because of my OCD, I often have a hard time focusing on the things in front of me. Things have to be done a certain way. If I don't check something, or I don't do it a specific way, or enough times, or everything isn't exactly how I need it to be, my anxiety feels overwhelming and I feel a sense of impending doom. It's nearly impossible for me to move on to the next thing unless I do something exact and perfect.
OCD is so much more than the need for things to be perfect or clean. And for some that's not necessarily a manifesting symptom. Though we share common symptoms and similar experiences, OCD can look different on those who struggle with it. That's why I wanted to share this post with you today, because I've given you a look into my life with anxiety, depression, and my eating disorder, but I haven't focused a lot on my OCD. I've really only mentioned it in passing, but I think it's important to bring awareness to because, like I said, it's really misunderstood. *It's important to note that just like everything else I write about, this is strictly from my perspective.
I had no idea OCD was overruling my life. When I was younger, I used to check to make sure my windows were locked multiple times each night, everything had a place and if it was moved, I got upset. Things were coordinated, and I fully believed my intrusive thoughts, obsessions and compulsions were a part of life. I had this idea that if I didn't pray for the safety of my family each night, they would surely die. I lived in fear my actions would cause harm to someone else, I feared losing control, often felt guilty for my thoughts, and believed if everything wasn't absolutely perfect, something terrible was going to happen. The list of obsessions and compulsions could go on. Some had gone away over the years, many still linger. In fact, the whole, "My family is going to die unless I ask God to keep them safe," was an issue up until mid-last year. I was 21 years old and under the belief the safety of my family was in my hands all the time. If I nearly forgot to say someone's name, they would die, and I couldn't sleep until I prayed for them.
For years, we had people come to our house to clean, and whenever they moved something even an inch, I couldn't focus on anything until things were exactly how I had them before. I knew the days they would come, and throughout my school day wouldn't be able to focus because I knew when I got home, things would be rearranged and I would have to put them all back. Nothing else could be done until I checked everything I owned.
Hoarding is often a symptom of OCD or a type of OCD, and let me tell you, I kept a lot of stuff that was super unnecessary. I kept birthday cards from when I was like, ten years old. I felt guilty throwing them away. I associated them as being valuable and a connection to that individual who gave it to me, so if I threw it away, I was essentially throwing away my relationship with them. Stuffed animals were even worse. I kept a lot of things despite the clutter it created and the stress it actually brought. Every so often my room felt so out of control despite how organized it was, that I would get upset walking into my own room. But the guilt I felt in getting rid of things outweighed the frustration I felt.
When I was little I got this huge PlayMobile castle set. It was one of the greatest gifts I ever received as a kid. I loved that thing so much. I couldn't let it get dirty, so I had paper towels I used to place all over it so it wouldn't get dirty and dusty. To this day I can't handle dust and touching it or seeing it makes me so anxious and disgusts me. I stop breathing by anything dusty because I can't handle the thought of it in my lungs and contaminating my entire body.
When I went to college, roommates always commented how clean I was. Many didn't know that I couldn't leave the apartment until things were perfect. I was often late to class because of it (even missed class a few times). I checked the floors repetitively for things to pick up, even a tiny shred of paper or thing of fuzz. The kitchen area was always the hardest for me. My food had a place and it was hard to share that space with others who obviously weren't going to have things put the same way I did. And if they moved something of mine in the fridge, they had no idea it honestly messed with my entire day. It threw me off and I had to fight with myself to not always put it back where it was. Or, sometimes I wouldn't stop myself and I would probably seem petty by moving it back, but it (temporarily) relieved the anxiety I felt by having my things out of place. Moving it meant I could go to the next thing.
I still have this need to check if I locked the front door before I leave, because if I don't, someone will break in and steal everything we own, and it will be my fault. There's a need to put my deodorant on a certain number of times under each arm or else no one will want to go near me and I'll feel like this disgusting human being until I go back and put the right number on. So when I say it impacts every part of my life, it impacts even the tiniest, daily things we all do.
I honestly couldn't tell you how my OCD diagnosis began. I spent about 20 minutes looking through old journal entries and all I really mentioned was, "Working on my ED and OCD. Help meeee." That was sometime in September. So, it's a relatively new diagnosis for me. But, anyway, all I really remember was how we were probably talking about my perfectionism issues, and then my therapist asked me about some other stuff and then said, "You probably have OCD." I talked to my psychiatrist friend about it and then I realized I really do have OCD. I think I started laughing a little when I talked about it with them both and was diagnosed, because I had this attitude of, "Of course I would have OCD," and just couldn't believe I'd missed that my entire life.
Exposure therapy is probably one of the worst things in the world. My counselor on campus-the worst counselor I've ever interacted with-tried to do exposure therapy with me, but he was like, "Yeah, just don't pray for your family and see what happens." And when I told him I didn't and that my family didn't actually die, he went, "See? So you don't have to pray for your family each time and do it by name. Next." Totally unhelpful because the anxiety was still there and I only did it once, but went straight back to that habit for a while longer. Anyway, my new therapist was so helpful and encouraged me a ton to keep pushing through exposure therapy. When I told her I didn't follow through with something, she didn't make me feel bad and reminded me of how freeing it would be to not have to live like I was. When I did my "homework," she was so excited for me that I actually nearly cried once because I felt so good. She'd tell me, "This is so exciting. I am so happy for you I feel like crying."
When she first brought exposure therapy up, though, I got all rigid and then started laughing when she was done speaking because I was so anxious and uncomfortable with the idea of not giving into my OCD, that I had no other expression for it. But I was also tired of missing out on a lot of things in life and feeling like I had no control. I hated living in fear, I hated never feeling fully comfortable with my surroundings. I hated feeling dirty and guilty and obsessed with things that didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. I was so blessed to have two roommates who helped me a ton. They were probably a little too happy to help me with exposure therapy (y'all know it), but I was able to overcome some major obstacles with their help (even though it caused me physical pain). Like, my closet is color coordinated, arranged by sleeve length, pattern, shirt type, you name it. I could not leave my room if a shirt was misplaced. I would try so many times but physically could not do it. If I did, the image of the misplaced item haunted me during class and I couldn't wait until I could get back home to put it where it was supposed to be. I once walked into my room and my shoes were all over the place and clothes off hangers or in different places. I had to re-enter my room multiple times and sit with my anxiety until eventually it was bearable and it didn't bother me as much. These days I'm proud to say I often leave shirts inside out and on my floor without too much of a problem (9 times out of 10). I also had a huge problem with my bed being unmade and being dirty. One time one of my roommate's was eating on my bed and dropped like, two crumbs, and I almost had a straight up panic attack. My first thought was, "Throw it away. Get rid of the entire cover because now it's contaminated and will never be clean again." She felt really bad but I calmed down. I still have the cover, and she was a real champ in dealing with me in that moment because I was lowkey losing it.
The list could go on for all the times my OCD comes and interrupts my daily life. All the times I've compulsively cleaned, rearranged, all the intrusive thoughts, everything symptom I deal with, but it'd be boring and I think you get the point. It's so hard, because it's more than being neat and tidy. It's way more than watching those "satisfying" videos of things being put in order or being a little bothered by an image of something being out of place. It's a living hell and something I wouldn't wish on anyone It's a feeling of everything being life or death, panic attacks, losing control, impulsiveness, and fear. It's terribly time consuming and often against my will. I know it doesn't make sense to do a lot of the things I do, or to think about them. I'm well aware that my OCD is not "normal" but it often feels like the only way I can control my surroundings and alleviate my anxiety. And like I said, it's often life or death. So, when you say something like, "Oh, I'm so OCD," or when your professor misses a tiny spot on the white board when erasing things and you say, "Ugh, my OCD is so bothered right now," or whatever way you say you "have" OCD, please think about what you say, because OCD isn't a small matter. It's quite often disabling. As I've sat in my apartment as this pandemic occurs, as I've made my way back to work, my OCD is attacking me from every front and it's the worst feeling. But I found a lot of power in those tiny sticky notes the other day. It gave me a sense of hope, weirdly enough. So, today's quote is simply, "Keep going." Hopefully a reminder for us all, especially during these times. Take time to do the things you love, realize you don't have to be productive at every second (let's be real- it can be hard to work from home and find motivation to get all those things done on your to-do list), take a breath, and allow yourself to feel all the emotions that are coming. Remember to reach out and keep connecting with your loved ones! Really, just take it all one day at a time and do what works best and is healthiest for you. We can make it!
As always, thanks for reading!
---Maggie
PS: Some basic info on what OCD is. Education is key to understanding!
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