Walking in the Shoes of OCD

In April, 2016, I wrote, “My theory returns that ultimately we are all alone. It's not reasonable to expect someone to save you. Everyone is already trying to save themselves. No one is coming to my rescue. That's just how it works. What does it take to have someone cradle you in their arms for hours and let you sob because nothing makes sense? There's no formula to achieve this. We all want to be loved. But it won't happen because people help when it's convenient for them. It won't happen because it's not realistic to expect that from someone.” I can see where I was coming from. But my mindset is so different now. I can see what a difference we can make for someone else, whether in the moment or years later.  Looking back, I think I must have had some level of depression. I was functional enough to work but I counted down the days. I remember longing to be able to just sleep. I remember the split second of forgetting my mental state when I’d wake up, only f...

If I'm going to drive, I'm driving with a monster. I will create a monster. I need a monster if I'm going to start driving again. The monster is with me anyway. She's been my faceless passenger for years, breathing fear into the steering wheel, dread onto the dashboard. Today I have chosen to give her form. Just not a face. She doesn't need a face. Her presence speaks volumes, doubt and dread on overdrive. Her dialogue, relentless: Watch out. There's a person on the sidewalk. What if you hit them? Check and make sure they're still on the sidewalk. Was that them? Was that someone else? What if it was someone running to get help? What if you just hit the pedestrian? You're getting closer to that a car parked on the side of the road. A child could dart out. What if a child darts out and you kill the child? Be careful. Drive slow. Check to make sure you didn't hit a child. Can you be sure? What if you just hit a child? There's an...

Have you tested your OCD radar lately? People are announcing that they are 100% OCD because, according to the quiz instructions, " OCD free people" will look at the below shapes and see them all as identical. The quiz tempts you to discover whether your "OCD radar" can spot the difference.  Sure, there's a disclaimer, a disclaimer that it was "created for amusement and is not diagnostic in any way." There are many things wrong with that statement, the most glaring being that doing a doing a test for a serious medical condition is fun . People don't appreciate how it's akin to that same quiz claiming to test one's cancer radar. People don't make the connection because they say things like "I'm sooo OCD" or "I can be a bit OCD when it comes to cleaning." People. Don't. Get. It. OCD used to be known as the doubting disease but do people know this? Doubtful. Why on earth would it be called the ...

I considered skipping the International OCD Foundation's annual conference this year. Initially, I thought I learned what I needed from the previous two conferences I had under my belt. My confidence was short-lived after a driving trigger that left me feeling like I had started over from scratch. I felt resentment towards the treatment for OCD, resentment towards the professionals treating OCD, resentment towards the creation of vehicles. A professional told me that I had to work on the hit-and-run OCD as it would just morph into another form. I didn't like the answer. I asked another professional: same answer. I asked a third professional: same answer. It wasn't until a friend posed the question to me, "but couldn't OCD impact you just walking from point A to B?" "Of course not!"  But then a light bulb went off. My mind took me back to a few years ago when walking down a sidewalk was stressful, back to a time when peripheral vision felt l...

OCD is not a meme. It's 3 letters that should be seen, for the reality of what can feel like tragedy. "I'm so OCD." Self-proclamations knock me to my knees. An injustice to the torment, the terrorizing dread. You don’t recognize its breadth. "I'm so OCD." Said with such glee, thrown on like an accessory. While there's me, an uninterrupted factory, custom orders of fear and guilt, stitched together like a quilt. That's my accessory. Let’s make a trade. Maybe then you’ll be swayed, and realize the adjective needs to be slayed. Try it on for size, think of all that dies. Try on being a pawn, think of everything that could go wrong. Wrap my quilt around you, let it concoct its brew. Breathe in the suffocation, exhale the damnation. The castration of hope. A slippery slope. Am I out of your scope? “I’m so OCD.” Is it still your choice accessory?

A brief tutorial before the fictional short story that follows: Harm OCD takes various forms. An example is a person with OCD who feels it is their responsibility to protect people from items they think might cause others harm.  No, I'm not talking about seeing a used syringe and taking the appropriate safety precautions to dispose of it. I'm talking about something like a small rock. Seeing a small rock on the pavement could lead to catastrophic thinking for someone with this form of OCD. Their mind might race to thoughts like, "Is that rock sharp? What if it has jagged edges? What if someone kicks it and it hits them in the eye? What if they go blind? I have to move the rock. It will be my fault if I don't move the rock." OCD doesn't care about logic. It wants you to worry and take action to keep it satisfied.  Waves and the stereotypical surfer are home to Venice Beach. Before you hit the boardwalk, I promise you'll spot the blonde locks and accompa...