Obsessive-Compulsive Darling

Written by a 24 year-old me

So often, when people hear “Obsessive Compulsive Disorder” (OCD), they picture the quirky Tony Shaloub: the typical wacky germaphob obsessed with cleaning and counting. So here’s why Monk stunk. I’m all about bringing lightness to heavy and difficult situations but it was done so distastefully in this show. I am by no means a Monk connoisseur, I in fact I have never sat through an entire episode. I cannot stand to watch this clown with his pathetic demeanor and his inconceivably untreatable disease. He is actually referred to as the “defective detective.” This show made a mockery of people with OCD. We were made to look like a broken toy whose only parts that could restore us were no longer being manufactured.

Anyways, this isn’t a piece bashing Monk. What it is is my experience with severe OCD & bringing light onto an often misunderstood topic.

Let’s start off with The “Bad.”

I remember the exact moment my OCD made itself known to me. I was twelve years old and it was Christmas night. I had a stomach ache and recalled the horrific moments in my life that I had thrown up. I wanted to make it stop. I decided to pray, then I decided to pray again to make sure it really stuck. Then I started reassuring myself: “If i flick this light switch 40 times, I won’t throw up.” “If I pray two more times, nothing bad will happen.” And so I obeyed this self-appointed commander in my head. It was the longest night. But you know what? I made it through without throwing up. BAM! There’s something to this. It worked. Obviously, what I did had saved me.

My fear of throwing up, which I now know is called emetophobia, didn’t dissipate along with my stomach ache. In fact, eleven years later, it’s still the worst possible thing that could happen to me. Ever. But anyways, here I was, twelve years old and not knowing what the fuck I was in for. At first, I was very willing to go along with these rituals. It was maintenance and a small price to pay to ensure everything would be alright.

I complained of a stomach ache for months. I would have my parents pick me up from school every day. I saw several specialists, had an endoscopy- everything turned out OK. This was the year my period came around, however. This was the final nail in my coffin. There was no coming back from this. My OCD was enhanced by my hormonal shifts until I eventually couldn’t leave my house out of fear of “something bad happening.”

More rituals were soon birthed:
Touch the TV screen. Outline the corners of objects and people.
Repeat everything you hear on the television.
Pray forty times every night.
Flick every light switch in the house forty times. You mess up, you start over.
Open and shut the doors four times.
Rub random objects on your hands, feet, elbows, & knees. Do it again.
Crush every leaf outside. Don’t miss any. Are you sure you want to skip that one? What if that’s the very leaf that will stop you from throwing up? Better be safe than sorry.
Hoarding: I had to hold onto random objects: receipts, tickets, wrappers, scrap paper… You never know. What would happen if I got rid of something and a horrible incident followed? I could never retrieve that item. It’d be gone forever and I had tossed away the magical healing elixir.

My life consisted of having tutors come to the house, watching Little House on the Prairie, & performing these rituals. If I tried to be strong and resist, a bad feeling would gnaw away at me until I found my next distraction. I fixated on knowingly irrational yet disturbing imagery. I was a prisoner being controlled by a faceless puppet master. It was decided that I would venture out to see a psychiatrist who confirmed what my mother already knew: I had OCD. He also informed her of some things she did not know: I would be on medication for the rest of my life and would be forever handicapped (like in a wheel chair handicapped.) I started crying uncontrollably. My mother asked the doctor to assure me that I wasn’t crazy to which he responded “Depends on what you mean by crazy.” Needless to say, we never went back to Dr. Becker .

I’ve seen dozens of psychiatrists and therapists. No one fit the bill. They all understood the textbook definition but they hadn’t gone through what I was going through. So it came of no surprise when none of them stuck. I was a guinea pig for anti-depressants. I’ve been on everything. Prozac has always been my stabilizer. I was always “just good enough” on this medication. Without it, I don’t know where I would be right now; who I would be. Let’s get back on track. This went on for years. I’ve adopted and overcome many OCD rituals along my journey. It wasn’t until senior year of highschool that I truly got a hold on all of it. I wasn’t free of my unbroken, untamed OCD but I was learning how to calm this bucking bronco and lead him to go where I needed him to.

I would say that I am now in ninety-six percent control of my rituals. I actually have to think hard to remember what they were. I never thought I’d be where I am now. Not only am I surviving, I am thriving. I have finally found a therapist that supports me in my journey of overcoming severe anxiety disorder and is helping me chip away at the true causes. I will be forever grateful for her.

So, the cons:

Your plans are orchestrated by what your OCD will allow.

You are EXHAUSTED from performing these rituals. It’s a full time job with no salary.

You worry that people might think you’re stealing because you have to touch everything while shopping

You have to deal with people saying ignorant things such as “Omg, I’m so OCD about that.”

You can’t watch anything that stars a character with OCD without taking on their rituals. Suggestion: If you are struggling with OCD, I urge you fast forward the scene in The Aviator where Leo pees in bottles so he doesn’t have to leave the room. It’s not pretty.

It can take you a while to get places. “Let me just touch that wall with my knee one more time to be on the safe side.”

You’re often told to “suck it up” and that you’re being ridiculous. Just stop it!

A great strain in relationships often occurs. It takes strong people to support an individual with OCD. It’s a two-way street.

It can be debilitating and ruthless. It’s annoying to have to flicker some light switches, it’s terrifying to have to touch knives and scissors to your eyes, your throat, and your wrists.