Before I go on, I want to explain that even though I can break up my life into various OCD episodes, this does not mean the OCD is not a part of my life between these episodes. Nay, it is a CONSTANT part of my life. I simply term these moments in my life as OCD "episodes", because they are times when I have felt I was completely out of control in my brain, that I couldn't get it to stop, that there was no help. The episodes are simply pockets of the worst.
Back in the Fall of 2003 I had one of the worst OCD "episodes" I have ever had. I had just finished my Master's degree the previous spring and moved in with my boyfriend (soon to be husband) in his grandfather's house. I was looking for work, not finding much, taking care of my new dog (a cute little pug named Oswald), and trying to fit into my new life.
I got a job, finally, working at a local college teaching a simple class on studying. To me it was a bit of a pointless class, but the college required their students to take it, and pass it with "Satisfactory" as the grade, in order to move past the first term of classes. It was a simple 3 day class that I would teach three weekends in a row. I had 3 different classes to teach spread over Friday and Saturday. I was so excited!!! I had always wanted to teach at a college and even though it wasn't the biggest job ever, I was doing it!!!
I did well. The students loved me and would write me all the time. But then the obsessive worry started. Almost out of nowhere it seemed. Another instructor pointed something out to me that I was supposed to be doing that I hadn't done. That was all. That was it. But it was enough to set wheels in motion. I then took it upon myself to make sure each and every student got the exact instruction I was "supposed" to give. There could be no leeway in any direction, I had to teach this exact way that I had failed to do in the first day of class.
The students had minor homework, something most instructors would hardly even worry about. But I had to get the students to do the homework precisely. I began calling each and every student on the telephone to ensure they had correctly heard me when I explained the assignment. I would pace back and forth in the back yard as I called them all. Smoking a cigarette, worrying that I was going to inadvertently cause these students to fail. And I will point out again that this was a simple STUDY class. Simply designed to teach students how to study. Something I should never have worried at all about.
However, in order to actually pass this class, the students had to do one simple assignment. Get onto a website called Blackboard and email me. That was it. And I told them that in the second class. The third class would be our last, and I reminded by both writing it on the board and emphatically stating it, that they MUST email me. Some did not. That sent me reeling into obsessive thought even more.
I called each and every student again making sure they knew that they had to do this. Some of them I could tell by their voice on the phone with me, were a bit freaked out by my constant calling them. I would have been too. I was slowly losing it. But I was certain in my mind that I was causing these students to fail by not helping them enough. Certain of it! Even though it was the farthest thing from the truth.
In the end, 3 I believe, just 3 students, did not pass the class. They did not do the work and they shouldn't have passed. But for the next few months I was certain it was all my fault they had not passed and would now be forced to pay $60 to retake the 3 class course. I began thinking for hours and hours on end about what I could have done to have helped these students more. How could I have messed up so horribly. I stopped eating almost altogether and lost 30 pounds in about a month. I smoked endlessly in the backyard as I paced and thought. I would go in the bathroom, stare at myself in the mirror, and think about how I could have done this to these 3 students. How I could have let them down so very much. Once again, I will state that this was a simple, $60 course on studying. Nothing more. Stupid to worry one second about it. But it was literally killing me.
When the starvation and smoking wasn't cutting the pain enough, I started cutting at myself with thumbtacks. Little scrapes across the skin. Maybe physical pain would take away the mental pain. My boyfriend would find me lying in the hallway of the house softly repeating words or just crying. He would make me meals and I would just sit and stare at them. I would lie on our bed and just cry staring at the wall. I was certain I had caused those students to fail and that it was my fault and that somehow this would ruin their lives. Finally, one day I was stuck in the corner of the living room, behind the couch, crying. Unable to get me out of the corner and fearful I was going to do something to harm myself, he called my parents. Within a couple days I was seeing a counselor. And very quickly we determined what was going on with me.
For most of my life I have exhibited signs of OCD. But for most of my life up until that point, OCD had not caused me major trauma. That episode brought out the worst of my OCD, and the worst has remained with me to this day. That was a painful time in my life and it actually took quite a long time to get past it, but that was far from the worst. It is easy to pass OCD off as just being anal or orderly or clean-freakish...but it is so much more than that. It is an inner turmoil that cuts down to a person's heart and soul and if not caught and treated, can lead to major physical harm or even death. OCD is serious and the only reason I am glad this episode occurred is because it helped me gain the tools I need to fight through each day and survive.
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