Its ME, and my OCD...we're back!!!

I have not written on this blog in so long. I can hardly remember what I meant it to be, can hardly remember the words I have wanted to say for so long. And I still don't really know what I want to say, but I know I want to get back at it, get back to blogging about this nasty crap called OCD.

So much has happened since I last wrote, so much. And my OCD has certainly been affected both good and bad. The simple fact I live 2300 miles from my family members affects the OCD daily. But add in to that losing a very close family member that almost a year later I am still having a hard time saying good bye to...Or add in the loss of a pregnancy that wasn't known until we were saying good bye...Or add in the loss of my fertility, womanhood, etc...Then add in the loss of a dear friend by murder, a friend you can still hear laughing in your ear...all that ties into my OCD and how it affects me daily.

You might ask how it affects the OCD. It isn't necessarily direct. Its stress. Stress grates at the inner workings of my brain like no other, stress causes me to lose control of all the synapses firing each millisecond and allows the monster I have know so long to reemerge and strike out.

Now, when I say the OCD has reemerged, I don't mean to say it was ever gone. Rather it has been kept under the rug...still able to get me with little bumps, but not overly affective in its attack. It has been much easier for a long time to live within my body with the brain I have (THANK YOU meds and therapy!!!). The reemergence allows its attack to grow, to actually exert pain upon my psyche.

As so often in the past, it has returned in many similar fashions, but has also changed its emotional shape. It will always provoke massive anxiety within me, leaving me breathless upon attack. But the compulsions have taken different routes. I get frozen nowadays. The thoughts, or obsessions, attack and my body literally freezes. I can't move until I can stop it. Just happened tonight watching a simple episode of Tosh.0. Physically freezing can certainly be interesting when you have wee ones under foot. Along with freezing, I am continuing my ever present excessive hand washing and I still count in threes and check check check (oh how it felt good to write that three times!).

To be honest, I want to get back to this blogging business because it truly helps. You readers, if there are any, listen to me purge my stress, my anxiety, and it helps. It relieves the pressure of what's going on inside my noggin. I haven't been doing the best ever lately, my OCD has been hard on me, I feel weary and worn. Getting back to blogging gives me hope that I will survive again this little *bleep* in my life. Thank you whoever you are...I'll be writing to you more and soon!

I'm Back

Holy Wow, it has been quite a while since I last posted...right about the time my body was starting to grow weary of carrying out the process of pregnancy, right about the time I could no longer sleep in my own bed and holding my son in my lap was impossible. Yep, pretty much everything started to get put on hold and since the act of keeping up with this blog isn't priority, it fell away completely. Oh there have been so many nights I wanted to write something, really had something to say but I was just too utterly exhausted to even manage the thought of typing. Sleep took control.

I am not even sure what I will say tonight in this post, I am not sure what there is to say...Since my last post I have given birth to my second son, an absolute blessing on this family. Since his birth life has felt so haywire and I wouldn't even know where to begin in explaining it, except to say I love it. He completes our family!

Alas, though wonder and beauty have been filling life as of late with the arrival of my little one, OCD doesn't really give one rat's patootie. It still keeps roost in the caverns of my brain and when I am overwhelmed, when I haven't kept up my care, it crawls back out and gets a foothold and takes me for a ride through anxiety, fear, pain, sadness...OCD doesn't care I have things I need to get done, it doesn't care that I am in the middle of a conversation with a friend, it doesn't care at all...It is a sickness. A sucky one at that!

Lately OCD hasn't been too terrible. I have been better able to handle my symptoms and most of my usual symptoms are fairly quiet and managed. Unfortunately, I recently suffered the passing of my beautiful grandmother, an occurrence that would upset anyone but with my OCD it has caused new symptoms to occur, has opened a new road for the OCD vehicle to travel on. It has thrown me for a massive loop and I am struggling to handle the painful symptoms at times.

Death has always been something that has caused me great anxiety. I can't tell you exactly why, it has just always been something I was overly concerned with throughout childhood and until now. The finality of death, just the thought of it, leaves me breathless. Makes my body instantly churn with sadness and fear. The death of my grandmother has awakened symptoms in me that were not usually there, are not a normal part of my OCD pattern if you will.

I am overcome with hypochondria for both myself and my family and friends. I watch my husband closely as he still battles constant pain and discomfort stemming from a surgery a year ago. As I stare at him, lists roll through my brain of sicknesses he could have, of something I am not noticing and he isn't telling me. I stare endlessly at my infant son, eyes hyperfocused to notice every little nook and cranny of him. Is he breathing? Yep he is. But is his breath strong? Its fine...BUT! I watch my older son's breathing, does he need extra allergy meds? is that another rash breaking on his arm? is that a temperature I feel? My mind is obsessively filled with worry that something will happen to me and I will not watch my children grow.

Everyone has these worries from time to time, sometimes more than they would like to admit. But for me these worries, when attacked by the OCD monster, become obsessions. I can't let them go, the swirl through my brain 24 hours a day. Sometimes they keep me awake, while other times they simply invade my dreams. And as most of you reading this know, with obsessions come compulsions in OCD. I am compelled these days not to discuss my constant anxiety, it is my compulsive tool to keep the bad things from happening. Even writing this is causing me stress (I can literally feel my blood pressure rising and my head beading with sweat from breaking the compulsion)...but I want to share, I try to fight my compulsions, I want to keep the OCD from taking me away. So tonight I share with you my fear, my fear of losing family, of them losing me. My fear of death. My near inability to handle the idea of it. I share with you that for the past two months my mind has been quite filled with my obsessional thoughts regarding death.

I share and let go! I must let go to keep moving with the OCD. As my husband just said to me when he learned I was writing about death..."don't write about death, write about life"...so that's what I want to do. I want to write about life and I want to refocus on life and I want to live life. (But you all know that will be hard work with OCD involved LOL)

I've missed you all

Life Keeps Moving...

Well, its been quite sometime since I posted anything. Months. I've been tired and worn out and by the time I get a chance to write anything these days, I am too weary to put my fingertips on the keys. I'd rather lay in bed watching a show and passing out. But, I want to get back to posting, I miss it. There isn't really a reason to post right now. Nothing much new is happening. But I just want to keep the ongoing discussion of OCD.

Back in September I found out I was pregnant, which was absolutely welcome news. I had decided at that time, for the health of my child, to go off of my medications, both celexa and ritalin. This was overall smart choice for the beginning of pregnancy, when so much is happening to your child, so much is forming all at once. However, by week 14 I realized there was no way I could remain off of my medication and stay healthy for this child. I made the decision to ask the doctor to put me back on celexa (I remain ritalin free). I thought it was going to be tough talking him into it, but it was far from that. He was totally behind me in my decision and that was mighty reassuring.

Since returning to my medicated life, the pregnancy and life outside of it are much easier to take and handle and move through each day. Interestingly, going off of my medication made me realize more than ever how much I needed it. How much my disorder is truly ruled by the chemicals in my brain. How much I can't control the disorder, I can only control my reaction to it. 

I have had this disorder for a very long time. I have been diagnosed with it for a fairly long time as well. But it is only in the last year and a half that I have finally come to truly understand it, conceptualize all its many facets, and learned its attack patterns. And now that I understand it better, I am able to attack back and neutralize most situations.

Am I still affected by my disorder? You betcha! I will always be affected by it, it does not go away. My counselor described it so well the other day...It is like if I had diabetes and I had to learn how to control its affect on my body. Well, with my OCD, I have had to learn the everyday tasks I have to carryout in order to control its affect on my brain. It is a sickness too, one not easily seen or discerned but a sickness nonetheless...and I have finally found the best treatment for it. And I think because of this I have become a better wife and mother...and I am able to enjoy my pregnancy even more this time!

No Medication and the Reversal of Symptoms

About 3 months ago, maybe less, I could tell you that the symptoms of my OCD were rocking. And by that I mean, they were almost non-existent. I would have called myself about 95% good, feeling great and riding high and wondering what all my fuss over OCD had been. Speaking as a person with severe OCD, this was a freaking fantastic accomplishment. I never thought I would be so good.

At the same time, my husband and I had been trying to get pregnant. I though, no biggie, once I am pregnant I will just go off the medication and keep being positive and all will be grand. I can keep this mojo going and I can not lose sight of the fact that I have a disorder, I am not the disorder.

I got pregnant. I went off the medication immediately. I still felt good.

But this did not last. About the time my medications should of been drip-dripping their last little bit out of my blood system, my brain and my old nemesis, the OCD monster, hip-hopped back into action and took hold.

At first it wasn't too bad and I could easily recognize that I was just dealing with some OCD symptoms I had had before. I figured without the meds my defenses had been lowered a tad, but I still thought I could control it. I still thought I had the decision-making ability for the chemicals within my brain.

I was wrong.

My symptoms today are pretty strong. They are not the strongest they have ever been, they are not as bad as they could be, but oh how it is a different world from just three months ago.

But as I work through each day, battling the anxiety, curbing the feelings of insecurity, keeping my brain cells aware of the world, I know it is the best thing I could ever do for the little munchkin resting deep within me. I did this for my son and I am doing this for my little Bean. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

How Will It All Go

Hello to All My Friends! How are you? Hoping well. I haven't been on here in a while, been so busy the idea of writing a blog post takes too much energy from my already energy-zapped day. It's been quite insane. I have been doing rather well. I have my OCD moments, but I seem so better at working through them, so better at handling the stress and strain on my brain. It's been a new life, really. An almost seemingly normal life. Couldn't get much better than that!

However, recently I have taken a step back from my medications. I am now completely off all medications. It feels so weird to say. No meds, how can that be. It is a decision my health care provider and I have not made lightly, but one that takes into account some personal things going on with me. Needless to say, I am not positive the medications will be gone long, but neither am I sure I will be back on them any time soon. One thing I am 100% positive about - one day the medications will be back, for it is quite certain they help me live my life the best way possible.

So as I go forward with this new period of zero medication, I feel liberated. It is like walking freely in the water when you have been stuck in an inner tube for so long. But it is also a scary feeling, as I am not quite sure I know how to swim in this environment, I am not sure how I will do without my medication inner tube. So far, things have been okay, but it has only been a few weeks. I can tell you I have already noticed the return of symptoms that were almost squashed. I can tell you I feel the strength of OCD stronger than I did a month ago when I felt almost completely in control of it. But even with these little blips on the screen, these little peeks of it coming back to hit me with a sledgehammer, I still feel quite strong and I feel like I can hold the sledgehammer back for now.

And you know what, that is a great feeling!!!

I don't know how it will all go...but I am ready to see...

A Very Different Contaminant - Me

I have been wanting to write a new post for so long...but the weird thing is, I have been doing so much better I have been drawing a blank on what to write about, what knowledge to pass on. It's not that OCD is gone. My goodness, wouldn't that be a dream come true, a miracle. Nope, it's just I have been dealing with it so well I haven't felt the urge to dive back into it...What if I come up out of the depths with it sticking to me again.

But tonight I have thought of something. The idea came to me in the shower as I followed my routine of certain things that must be done to ensure I am clean and that the shower and it's contents remain clean. I was thinking about why I do these things in the shower, about my rituals for getting dressed, using the restroom, cooking a meal, doing laundry...they are all rituals focused on contamination...however, they have nothing to do with me becoming contaminated. Hell, I could probably lick a rusty tailpipe and not think a thing of it. Nope, these rituals have all to do with me...Myself...I am the contaminate. In my mind I am the origination of contamination. If I don't keep myself clean enough I will contaminate all around me. If I don't follow the rituals in the shower, it will be unclean and contaminate my husband or child when they bathe.

This contamination fear makes my ritualizing very similar to those who fear germs, or sickness, or whatnot. However, it also makes them different enough to confuse other OCDers and to mostly confuse friends and family of my own who don't fully comprehend the disorder. It is hard to explain that you are wiping down the kitchen counter again, or washing your hands for the 50th time that day, or not touching certain things as you walk through the house as a way to control contamination...this is so hard to explain when in the same day you are able collect your dog's poo from the yard, clean up your cats' puke, and buy clothes from Goodwill. I mean, if a person is fearful of contamination, most people don't expect them to purchase someone else's stinky Puma shoes.

I also have a ritual rather difficult for even others with OCD to understand. If I walk into a store and touch a product in the store while thinking a bad thought or while my hands haven't been sanitized in the recent past, I feel I must purchase the item because it has become contaminated...I have been able to walk away many times (I don't think my wallet could handle it all), but walking away from the "contaminated" product makes me rather stressed, anxious, and overwhelmed. I am horror stricken with thoughts of the next person touching it falling ill or being hurt because of me.

When I am cooking, the idea of me contaminating the food is a major stressor. I spend an inordinate amount of time, when cooking for those outside my immediate family, insuring that the food has not been contaminated by my careless actions of maybe not washing my hands again, for the 10th time. Baking cookies or cakes for friends, or making a meal for a family can cause my brain to sizzle with anxiety. It takes twice or three times longer than most to cook or bake even a simple item because of this. Despite this, I absolutely LOVE cooking and baking.

It is an interesting way to be...seeing yourself as the source of contamination...but you live through it and you learn inventive coping skills. When you have a child you learn to mask you horror and pain and concern with a big smile and a cheery laugh. You remind yourself 100s or times and hour that they need not be subject to your disorder. When you are in a workplace, you take extra measures not to show your stress. It is interesting and can be tough...but it is what it is...And despite it all I am happy and feel lucky and love my life!!!

Pain, and Stress, and the Whatnot...

A few weeks ago I was given a steroid burst treatment. It lasted about 2 weeks to whittle down through the steroids. I felt so much better on the steroids, my pain throughout my body, throughout my tissues and joints, was almost gone. Bye bye. But mere days after finishing the burst of steroids, I started to feel pain flares again. They were minor and short. One would hardly notice them really. But every one of them left me feeling more and more anxiety. Today, the pain is truly returning. I can now say with certainty it is my disease's pain. It is nothing else or more or less. It is what I carry within me that is doing this. I almost thought for a second it might be gone, maybe it had all been some crazy bad dream. But I was wrong. It has returned, scared away for a minute, back for vengeance. You might ask what the pain feels like, and I am not even sure I can explain that...my goodness, I have no idea how to explain it. My neck hurts pretty good right now. I am trying not to move it in order to ward off the pain. My wrist hurts and aches and flares. Along with that my fingers hurt. This morning I woke up in pain as I had so many times before the steroids. Stumbling across the floor to my son's room. Gripping the steering wheel as I drove through town I felt the pain coursing in my fingers...not at the knuckles or joints, but in between, in the meat of the finger. My wrist ached with my internal groan on so many instances of grabbing something or turning my hand or whatever. My neck just is pain. Oh I wish it would go away. I wish I could stay on the steroids forever. (Oh, but I don't, because steroids have their own terrible side...) I just really can't believe this happening. I still, so many weeks later, am shocked by the situation I find myself in...So unexpected! But, then, I guess, who expects some crap like this...I feel quite a bit like crying. I still might. 

 Needless to say, my OCD has been on high alert. Grasping onto everything. Reminding me that this disease has a life expectancy. That this disease can be painful as hell. But, my OCD also makes me feel guilty...oh isn't that OCD's way...It reminds me of how many people have it worse and why do I have to be a whiny little snot about it. It yells into the far reaches of my mind, get the hell over yourself!!! I feel guilt for all those who have it so much worse or have had it so much worse...I can't imagine all they have gone through. I feel awful for what so many have been through.

But then I say, what the hell is wrong with me feeling awful about my own situation for a minute? What the hell is wrong with me feeling scared about this at all? Because that is what I am...scared...It can't be real, it must go away right?...But, no, it doesn't. There is no cure. And I am scared...

 

Imperfect Perfection

One of the biggest parts of OCD is an extreme fear of failure. Whether you fear you'll fail by contaminating yourself or others...or you fear you'll fail by not tapping that light switch three times and someone gets in a car wreck...or you fear if you eat that piece of fried chicken you have not eaten perfectly and will now die an early death. So very much of OCD is focused on being the perfect person.

But guess what!?! No one, not a single person in this world, is even capable of being perfect. We all make mistakes daily, we all have our little failings. And in a way, the rigors of compulsive behavior associated with OCD cause even more imperfection. We strive for perfection and are completely imperfect the whole way. 

I strive all the time to be the perfect wife and mother. To be the perfect friend and relative. But you can't be everything to everyone. You really can't even be everything to just one person. And trying to be, striving to be, will slowly eat at you. I worry incessantly about how much cleaning I have done in a day or how well I have cleaned. A perfect mother would not have a dirty house, or dirty clothes, or dirty kitchen...I worry incessantly about my weight and my looks and my being...a perfect wife would always look good for her husband, right? Does this mean that my house is always clean or that I always look my best. Oh my goodness, NO! In fact, it is quite the obvious, my obsession with wanting to clean "properly" or "look my best" keeps me from actually even achieving those things. I am overweight, I do not have the best clothes, my hair rarely is "done"...my house is constantly in the process of being cleaned and my floor is always dirty. Do I think that if I let go of things and didn't obsess so much that these things would change. Not really. But I do think I could enjoy more of life if I did. I do think that it would be much more enjoyable to spend time coloring a book with my son or watching a movie with my husband, if I wasn't obsessed continuously about the perfection of my being. 

But even with that being said, it is almost impossible for me not to obsess about it. My mind is filled continuously through every day with what needs to be done next. Always.

I am feeling more hopeful everyday that I can let go of some of this pressure to be perfect. I am so very hopeful that one day I can just enjoy time spent with my son and husband. That sitting down to a dinner with them will just be that and not be paired with continuous thoughts of what do I need to do after this or was the food good enough or is the kitchen cleaned enough. One day, I will just sit with husband and son and BE.

Had a Good Cry (not really an OCD post)

Tonight I had a good cry. I actually found it hard at first to start crying. I could feel the tears stinging my corneas. I could feel them pool at the edge of my eyes. And then I cried. I cried pretty good too. Probably not long enough to let it all out, but I cried. I have so many wonderful things in my life, so many things to be thankful for, so many things that can be so easily taken for granted. But, lately, I have been overwhelmed by some of the bad or sad or painful things in my life.

For as long as I can remember, I have not had a day without pain, physical pain, somewhere in my body. It has usually been in my back and I have not thought too much of it, as I hurt my back in college. But the pain grew, it is worse, and I have just managed over the years to bear it. Slowly, my knees and ankles joined the painful fray. Like a team hell bent on making me stop in my tracks, they would flare here and there. Still, I didn't think overly much about the pain. I would go to physical therapy, I would take medications. But, the pain has persisted. And lately, the pain has increased. It flares in various parts of my body, flitting between joints like an Ouch Fairy. It wasn't until my wrists started hurting for no apparent reason that I became concerned. Out of nowhere it seemed, my wrists began to hurt like I had sprained them. I couldn't put away dishes, because the weight of a bowl was too much for me to deal with at the time. I called the doctor, I made the appointment.

I felt stupid in the appointment. How odd does it sound to say that you are having painful joints and the pain moves around your body and, no, there is no apparent cause. They are just painful and sore and tender and sometimes swollen. The doctor told me it was a symptom called migrating myalgia, not really that common. However, it can be a symptom of some autoimmune disorders. But he really didn't think that was it. He wasn't sure what it was, but he just didn't think that was it.

When I returned to see him a week or so later, the pain remained and he sent me for blood tests. Once again I didn't think much of it. I mean, really, it must just all be in my head. I went back to life as normal and just bore the brunt of the pain. Just put my chin up in the air and kept going. I was in pain, I was exhausted, but I kept moving through the days. And then this past Monday, about the time I was thinking I should call to check on my blood tests, the doctor's nurse called me. Something had been found, my inflammation marker was elevated and they wanted to refer me to a rheumatologist right away. What!?! Excuse me, can you just wait a second...What did it mean? I asked the nurse if it could mean I have RA (rheumatoid arthritis), she told me yes. I asked her if it meant I could have other things, she told me yes. But she wanted to get off the phone with me it seemed, "the specialist will explain everything when he looks at it"...I hung up, I cried, and then I went back to the world.

My pain continues. Right now as I type this, my knee is swollen and very tender and covered with an ice packet. The pain in my fingers seems to have subsided a bit, thankfully. As well as the pain in my back and neck...my feet are still sore. I don't know what I have in store for me. I am still waiting to hear back from the rheumatologist. I just know I needed a good cry and now I will jump back into things. Sore or not.

Tick Tock...Tic Tic Tic

So, several months ago I started developing tics. Maybe I had them before, but if they were present they weren't at a recognizable level. It started small. A few twitches in my face when I had a bad thought attack. I didn't think much of it, because I thought I was just grimacing at the thought. But then it increased in number and severity. It hit a high point while I was taking a high dose of a medication. I thought, well it must be the medication. I had been on the medication for years, but never at that high a dose and never with that effect. I had my doctor switch me to a new medication. The tics slowed in number, but have never gone away. 

There are tic disorders out there. The one most people think of is Tourette's syndrome. I don't have this as this develops in childhood. However, something is happening in my body and unfortunately, this is a common disorder associated with OCD. I swear, I am like a walking definition for OCD and it's related disorders. It SUCKS!

Nowadays I can cope with the tics. They don't happen frequent enough for most folks to notice. My husband notices. But he is with me every single day. My mother notices, but she is my mother. I don't expect my nearly 2 year old son to notice for a long time. It's just Mama and she just does those things. But I hate noticing them. I hate when I know they are going to happen. I hate its ugliness. 

Yes, I said it...I find it ugly. I mean, who wouldn't? Your face contorts, or you make a funny sound, or you do a weird body movement. I can feel the tic, or whatever it may be called, about to happen. I feel the sensation of tension throughout. And for a millisecond I almost feel like I can control it. Like, maybe somehow my will can overcome it. But then it hits and TIC and it is over. It is an amazing process if you think about it and it takes an amazing amount of energy. But, sometimes when I am having a bad day, it wears my entire body out completely. Sometimes it makes me want to cry, because I just wish it would stop. I don't expect it ever will. 

I am not sure why some people have tics and some don't. I am not sure why some are born with OCD and others have almost no anxiety. If I knew these answers I would feel so blessed. But, I know what I have and I understand it more everyday. For that, I am blessed beyond compare. For that, I can move forward and still enjoy life, still feel the love of my husband and son and family and friends. For that, I can wake in the morning and accept what life throws at me. 

Could It Be?...Did I sign a new lease on my life???

As many folks know, I have been fighting the good fight with a serious mental disorder called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It is a disorder that is very often made into comic relief, but nonetheless is very serious. The medications many folks with the disorder need alone should signify this!

Well, I am in constant search and constantly filling myself with hope that there may be helpful answers out there somewhere. Not answers that will cure the OCD, I am well aware this will never happen - it is incurable. But answers to help me better tackle the Tiger that is my disorder, answers to help me choose the best path.

Recently I was able to visit an OCD specialist in Portland, OR and I feel with all of my heart and soul he handed me at least one of those answers, if not 5 million of them. Taking what he told me I have been able to return to my home and discuss things with my primary physician and finally get on some more appropriate medication. With his help I have finally got a better picture of what is going on inside my brain, why I think the way I do and why I have such a hard time with certain things. It has been miraculous!!!

And for those of you wondering what he said...well...He finally confirmed a diagnosis of ADHD. It is a diagnosis that has been discussed in both my physician's and counselor's offices. And little did I know how important that diagnosis was!!! Apparently, for those of us with both ADHD and OCD, without conquering one's ADHD symptoms, one will find it highly difficult, if not impossible, to battle their OCD symptoms. ADHD and OCD are commonly related and highly inheritable (which means I likely inherited both from someone in my family and the likelihood of me passing them on to my son is rather high). ADHD acts as a kind of megaphone to the OCD symptoms. So, until the ADHD is dealt with, the OCD symptoms will be broadcast at mega-volume throughout my brain and life no matter how hard I fight them.

So, what does this mean regarding medication? I will stay on my current SSRI to help me continue battling my OCD symptoms. But I am also adding an ADHD medication, Ritalin. Already I have seen the improvement. Already it has made a difference in my OCD. Already I know I am moving forward on the right path!!!

I feel like I made such a fantastic decision to visit the doctor in Portland and I feel like things are finally looking up for the first time in a very, very, very long time!!! (And, yes, I did just right "very" 3 times...the OCD isn't cured, folks...LOL)

My Hands Are Scarred

Lately, I haven't been doing the greatest in my fight against OCD. Actually, nope, I take that back, I am fighting the fight, strongly, but unfortunately my OCD has new strength. I am weary, I am stressed, I am exhausted, and I am weak...my OCD knows all these things and is attacking with the ferocity of a caged tiger...because that is what it is, a caged tiger that sometimes gets loose and mauls my thoughts, emotions, reality.

I told a friend today that I feel like I live in two worlds. I live in the world that all of you reside in everyday. The world that holds reality and goodness and love. But inside of my brain amongst all the factoids I learned in college and the childhood memories is another world. The everyday person will find it hard to even find, let alone notice this world existing within their minds. Even folks with mild OCD only skirt the edge of this world. But those like me, those with severe OCD fall full force into this world every day and every day we battle to get out of it.

Some days are good, some days we can sit on the edge of the world and only see glimpses of the OCD...these days are joyous triumphs. But other days are bad. We fall deep into the depths of the world and scarcely see the reality outside our brain. Lately, I have had a hard time reaching the edge of this world, and some days I hardly exit it. This is why my hands are scarring. This is why they are red, dry, cracked, and pained. I am applying petroleum jelly to them at night now, just to get relief from the pain. And it only somewhat relieves the pain. It is hard for me to carry out the act of moisturizing my hands with things like petroleum jelly (another OCD trait), so they often are at the mercy of my will.

I see my hands during the day, I stare at them sometimes, not believing I can do this to myself. And then, guess what, I wash my hands. You would think the pain I now feel when I wash my hands would cause me to withdraw them and not wash as often. But somehow the pain reinforces my need to wash them. The drier my hands are the more I feel they are dirty...and so it becomes a vicious circle.

I am stronger now than I was so many months ago. I am better equipped to handle the onslaught of my disorder. But it still hurts. Truly hurts. And when I look at my hands and feel the pain, I can't help but feel a little bit pissed off...at the OCD and myself...

Walking On Eggshells With ME

Something I am always trying to think of is a way to best describe OCD to the person who doesn't have it and has never experienced it. I usually have zero idea of any way to best describe it. But in talking with my mother one evening, a way dawned on me. One can think of OCD as having to walk on eggshells with your self. Not eggshells with that easily angered boyfriend or eggshells with your in-laws or even eggshells with your ultra-conservative grandmother. Nope, I am talking eggshells with yourself. That is what every person with OCD is doing, walking on the eggshells, trying their damnedest not to crack one or make a sound to alert the OCD monster within their minds.


All of us with OCD have a line we feel we must tow. Actions that rule our everyday to keep a specific order so that we do not awaken the OCD monster. We fear that monster awakening. It is an abusive part of ourselves. It abuses us from within everyday. But everyday, we carry out certain rituals, compulsions, in order to try and keep that OCD monster happy or quiet or asleep. If we just wash our hands exactly twice each time, it will remain happy. If we make sure to tap the light switch three times or six times or twelve, then the OCD monster will not wake and lash out at us. That OCD can at times keep us scared for our lives, literally. It is like an abusive parent, spouse, or friend. Well, it's never a friend.


And somedays, for whatever reason, we are unable to tow the line perfectly. And because of this, our OCD monster awakens, grows grumbly, gets louder. It screams out in our head like a blow horn is attached to our thoughts. Like the images within our brain are being played out on a big screen in front of us. And in these instances, we hop to it, jump back in line, and work harder to carry out our compulsions. We exhaust ourselves in every way just to quiet the monster. We burn the circuits of our brain, wash the skin practically off our hands, fold and refold the clean clothes, open and close the refrigerator door, take shower after shower, check and recheck. It feels endless.


So, with that I simply say that having OCD feels like I am walking on eggshells with myself.

OCD...That Degenerate!!!

Lately I have been having a rather tough time with my OCD. Because of this I feel like coming on here and talking, or blogging, to get things out. I don't know that I really feel like talking about my current troubles too much. I am not really sure what I feel like talking about. One thing I was thinking was maybe helping you all to understand why, even though I have had OCD since early childhood, it is so much worse now. I have had treatment, right? I have found some proper meds, right? So, why would it be worse now. Well, to put it simply, OCD is a degenerative disorder. Left untreated, it grows worse and worse with time and then becomes harder to treat and change the behavior. (This site can tell you a little more: NAMI)

Thus, even though I am currently treated for my disorder, I was not treated for OCD until the late age of 25. This is unfortunately due to the facts of my not being aware of there even being a condition like OCD and from previous misdiagnoses from mental health professionals. I am thankful everyday I now have the help I need, but I sometimes find myself a tiny bit pissed, okay maybe a big bit, that it took so long to be helped.

Unfortunately, that is the case for most people. OCD is an extremely shameful disease. Not that folks should feel shame, it is simply that many of us who have OCD feel very, extremely ashamed everyday. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't at some point think I am some horrible, awful person. And many other folks with OCD are just like me. We shy away from getting help. We are scared to talk to those who can help us, for fear they will see this monster that we see. In the end, when we are finally able to get help, most of us can finally see that the monster isn't real. It is just a mask our OCD has created for us. But, that shame, even after being treated for many years, remains. It isn't as strong now. I know it isn't a reasonable shame. But it still remains.

We folks with OCD also tend to not get help until later in life, because we are so unaware of what is happening inside our brains. We know something is amiss, but not the what. We carry out weird, odd compulsions and people give us looks. We learn to cover up the compulsions. Everyday, many of us OCDers carry out compulsions that no one ever sees and that no one ever will see. To this day, my husband who I would tell anything and everything to, still hasn't seen all of my compulsions and probably never will. It isn't because I don't trust him enough to let him see. It is partly because I don't want to stress him with them, and partly because I don't even realize I am hiding them.

Finally, a reason that many of us, despite having good health care professionals on our side and wonderful medications to help us, have a hard time battling our OCD is because it is a constantly evolving disorder. It doesn't stay the same for many of us. What does that mean? Well, for instance, there was a time in my life where I was completely focused on prayers and having to say them exactly right, and an exact number of times, and with the exact words. Then there was another time where things had to be cleaned properly, where things had a proper placement. There have been many evolutions in my disorder, and along the way I have had compulsions come and go and sometimes come back again. And at this time in my life, I have too many obsessions to even list on this post and my compulsions have changed over the last 6 months and my OCD includes fears of praying properly and fears of cleaning properly and fears of how to speak things properly. It evolves all the time, and so many of us have to constantly evolve our treatment.

OCD is a continuous fight. It is a chronic disorder, it does not go away. But it can get better. And it does. If you can just get past the fear and shame, and sometimes the evolutions. 

The First Time My OCD Was Truly Severe...

In this picture I look really happy. I look like I am really enjoying the moment and taking it all in. If I look at this picture now I wish to be back in that very moment as happy as I appear. However, I know the TRUTH. I was happy on some level, but underneath, I was stuck in one big horrible OCD "episode". It was one, like many I have had, that I felt I couldn't climb out of...it was suffocating and lonely and scary. And, even though you can't see it here in this photo, my mind and spirit were in a horrific state. See, you really can't judge a book by its cover!

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.

Being Pregnant, Being OCD

This is a picture of me the night before I was due to give birth to my son in July of 2009. Of course, it would be a few more days before that birth actually happened, but I was happy and I was ready to let this kid out of my belly. Having OCD while you are pregnant presents a level stress unheard of by most.

First off, let me state how many times I saw my doctor during my pregnancy. Some of you may be kinda shocked, but for me it was necessary I see him this many times. I found out I was pregnant when I was about 5 or 6 weeks along and from that day forward I saw my doctor about every other week and many times once a week or more throughout the entirety of my pregnancy. This is not the usual course of care for a pregnant woman. I was only scheduled to see him once a month throughout, but I found it "necessary" to continuously check in with him. If I didn't have a reason to do so, I would find a reason.

The first half of my pregnancy was spent vomiting several times or continuously throughout the day. I felt there would never be a day when I could eat a piece of food and it would actually stay in my stomach long enough to be digested. I distinctly remember vomiting all over my car door, on the inside, driving to work one day at 6:30am. Thank goodness for the container of disinfectant wipes I had forgotten about in my back seat. You would think with all the time I was spending being sick, I wouldn't have found time to obsess over anything. Nope, not the case at all.

My doctor made an unwitting comment at one of my first appointments regarding the dreaded bacteria toxoplasmosis sometimes found in cat litter and potentially devastating to unborn children. My goodness, that set me off. The cats were each checked by the doctor, there litter was changed daily, Steve was made to put a door into the doorway of our bedroom to keep them out of it, I followed the cats around with disinfectant wipes. I can tell you, our house had probably never been so clean. If the cats came near me, I cringed in horror. If they made the mistake of trying to jump in my lap for a innocent pet, they were tossed to the floor. To me they were no longer my pets, they were infested vermin out to hurt my unborn child. Ridiculous in many ways, as I had had them each tested and they were simply fine. But all I could see in my mind was the potential of what they could be carrying. 

As the days and weeks carried on, my horror regarding toxoplasmosis spread to become an overall horror of germs. I remember quite clearly being in the restroom at work once and seeing one of the cleaner bottles used by the maintenance team. It stated on the bottle that the cleaner killed this many diseases and that many forms of bacteria, and I remember HIV popping out of that list and my eyes feeling like they would pop straight from my head. What if I accidentally touched something tainted with HIV and somehow pass it to myself or my child. The horror was real. It was palpable. It was a horror so severe and thick, you could cut it.

Somehow I got through the weeks and months of stressful cleaning and rules that had to be followed in order to keep things uncontaminated. My husband was worn out, exhausted. He did his best to keep up with my "rules", but sometimes just couldn't do everything. In those instances, I hate to say, I would many times go emotionally batty on him. I had no rationality concerning contamination during that time period. None. When I put on my undergarments each night, my foot could not touch the inside of the undergarment. If my foot did touch the inside, the undergarment was contaminated and could not be worn. I would go through several undergarments before I put one on that my foot didn't touch the inside of and contaminate. This got even trickier the bigger my belly got.

Later in my pregnancy, just as I was starting to not get sick all day long and learning to enjoy food once again, I lost much use of my hands. I already have severe carpal tunnel syndrome. During my pregnancy, the swelling of tissue in my arms caused the carpal tunnel to be extreme and nearly required a surgery during my second trimester (but they deemed it too dangerous). My husband at times had to cut my food for me and help me dress, for my lack of being able to hold the silverware and grasp the buttons. It truly sucked!!! But, my fears continued through this. I would still clean with the disinfectant wipes the best I could. I would still have to keep my foot away from the inside of my underwear, I would still have to sit properly on the couch over and over until it "felt right", I would still follow my husband around with disinfectant wipes as he cleaned the litter box each day. 

But then July 17, 2009 arrived. I went to William Beaumont Hospital in Troy, Michigan for a routine non-stress test. My son's heart rate dropped dramatically and my induction began a day early. For the next couple days I was wrapped up in a zone of determination...a determination to safely deliver my son into this world. During these few days, my OCD was obliterated by that determination. I was focused. Alas, soon after giving birth to my son and resting for a mere few hours, the OCD returned and has remained. As it ever will...

My Lips Are Not My Own

i thought i would write a short post on a disorder i have been suffering with for as long as i can remember, dermatillomania (i.e. compulsive skin picking). it is not a part of OCD itself, but a part of another disorder called body dysmorphic disorder, or BDD. however, it is often paired with OCD, or a comorbid condition.

for me, this condition is generally focused on my lips, though it has affected other parts of my skin. i literally pick my lips until they bleed, or scab, or even get infected. at the age of 11 i came down with a bad case of impetigo as a direct result of my lip picking. it remains vivid in my memory mainly because the scars of that illness are easily seen in my school picture that year...so lovely.

many folks ask, well have you received help for this particular condition and to them i respond NOPE. in fact, from what i know, there isn't as much knowledge as one might think concerning compulsive skin picking, so we pick on.

another question...doesn't it hurt? my answer...sometimes. most of the time there is actually a good feeling that comes from picking the skin from my lips. it is hard to describe why it feels good, but it does. other times it hurts, and can hurt quite bad. but, at those times i am still unable to stop picking. my husband tries to stop me, even my sister-in-law tries. but i get right back to it in no time. sometimes i don't even realize i'm doing it.

a final question that may be asked...why the hell do you pick your skin off? my answer...it is an unfortunate result of traumatic stress and continues to be a stress management tool my brain utilizes regardless of me liking it or not. i do not like that i pick my lips. i do not like that my lips very often look horrid, bloody, cut, scarred. i find creative ways to attempt to cover up the mess of my mouth. but it sucks. but i also know it won't stop anytime soon.

until then, i might look into getting stock in the chapstick company.

My Thought Process Lately: Sucktastic Mom...

Lately my OCD has taken a new turn in its ability to get at me. All the usual suspects remain, like harming thoughts, contamination, checking, hyperresponsibility, etc. However, the added bonus as of late is that my brain is obsessionally creating reasons for me to believe I am the world's worst mom. No matter what happens in a day, no matter what I do, I will continue, or rather my OCD brain will continue to come up with reasons that I suck at mothering.

Heck, just this morning, I was feeling good about my work as a stay-at-home mom. I had got my son through his super-poo diaper change and fed him a fairly good, balanced breakfast. We read a book, we played with puzzles, we read through my Parent's magazine together...but he is getting over a sinus infection and it was obvious he was not feeling too well. No matter what I tried, he seemed to just want to lay across the floor sucking his thumb. Or sit in my lap, resting his head on my chest. Finally, I put on his favorite TV show Spongebob. I felt awful sitting there holding him. Like I had given up as a parent. Like I was rotting my sons brain and because of me he would never learn things properly. Fearing I was doing irreparable harm via that square, yellow sponge dude. But I am not doing irreparable damage. He is fine. He is just dandy.

As well today, my son was having a very defiant day. A rough day for both of us. Maybe it was because he isn't feeling well, maybe my short patience was from arm pain, maybe we just hit a snag at the same time. But I know I snapped at him a few times and felt my blood boil a few other times. And then my old friend OCD jumped in and told me I was a horrid mother because of this. What kind of mother gets frustrated with their child if they really love them. What kind of mother would snap at her young toddler. I must be horrible, because I am not happy 100% of the time I am with my son. But I was able to brush past that eventually, as well. All the while rethinking and rethinking, as I do. And carrying out another handy compulsion of mine, confession.

Later in the evening, driving around with my hubby and son, finding a place to dine, my husband and I had discussions and even got in a small argument. At this point my brain became certain I was just the worst mother that could be because I had argued with my hubby in front of my son. I hadn't spent the entire ride smiling and talking to my son and husband, so I was awful. As we continued to drive, my mind continued its process of rethinking and rethinking every way that I have sucked as a mother in the last...well, the last whenever.

Oh my goodness, this disorder is such a tiring disaster. This little added on bonus of believing I am an awful mom does not ease the burden by any stretch of the imagination. Nope, it just exacerbates the rest of my symptoms. Today I am simply tired. That is all I am.

A Day In The Life Of My OCD

Just an FYI: I fear writing this entry, especially as I know folks who don't have OCD will read it. I fear that a lack of understanding of this disorder will lead them to false conclusions. But, even though I fear things, I feel also that I must write this entry and more like it to help spread awareness of this destructive illness. SO here goes...

I so very much want to share with you what a day in the life of OCD is like, but I am really not sure I can do it. Actually, I am quite positive I cannot properly convey what it is like. But, in this post, I will do my best to help you understand why it is so difficult to have OCD. It's not just an issue of being orderly or clean or whatever...it's an issue of life and death...at least to us who have OCD it feels that way.

When my son wakes in the morning and I hear a whimper or cry, because maybe I am not getting to him quick enough or maybe he had a bad dream, I immediately think I must have done something bad to him. You out there may think to yourself, "really Tara, how is that possible, you haven't even seen him yet"...but that never crosses my mind at that moment and I am not just wondering if I did something wrong. I almost feel certain I did. As I walk towards his room, I will rack my memory, roll through events like they are in a rolodex trying to figure out precisely what I may have done to cause him to cry at this very instant. 

I will go into the room smiling at him, talking ever so sweetly to him, and scooping him up in a good morning hug. However, in my mind I will be endlessly searching for the bad thing I must have done. As my memories that have been scanned and rescanned fade back into my brain waves, the OCD part of my brain will start to create new "memories", false memories you might call them. They are termed intrusive thoughts. Everyone has intrusive thoughts, but most might not even know they had the thought, because it will go into and out of their brain so quick. Doesn't happen that way for us folks with OCD. A thought will enter my brain of something horrid that I never, ever did, but because it entered my brain, well, goodness, it must be true...RIGHT?

After changing him and getting him dressed for the day, I will proceed to wash my hands at least two times, but sometimes 3, 4, or many more times. (And yes, my hands do get raw from washing. The skin on my hands has cracked and bled. I am certain that the skin will crack and bleed again someday.) After washing my hands in the bathroom sink, I will proceed to the kitchen, where I will wash my hands at least 2 more times, because the bathroom sink is not as clean as the kitchen sink. And, I must not spread my germs to my son. I will then prepare my son's breakfast with a particular order. Utensils must not touch certain surfaces, my hands must not touch certain things until the preparation is complete. If I have a "bad thought" while I am preparing his food, I must wash my hands. It is necessary. Once prepared, I will give my son his food and while he is eating, I will wash my hands again. This must be done because I did or might have had a bad thought as I was carrying his food to him. This is something called thought contamination. Even though they are thoughts in my head, I believe they hold weight and so, by washing my hands, I rid the thought of power and its "germs". 

After breakfast, my son and I will sometimes just play with toys in his room. Even this simple thing, such a wonderful moment each day, can be tiresome and full of anxiety. I have to place myself in certain spots in his room or touch his toys in certain ways as I grab them from the shelf to give to him. If I sit in the wrong place or touch the toy in the wrong way, then I must get up and sit down again or put the toy back and pick it up again. This, though it will likely sound strange as hell to the "normal" folk out there, is all done in an attempt to make sure my son is never hurt. As well, if I happen to get a bad thought during this time, I must get up and wash my hands at least 2 times. 

If in the morning we go to a playdate or the store or wherever, the story changes slightly. I have particular ways I must carry son and particular ways I handle items we take with us. Every time I pick my son up or carry him or hug him, I must wash my hands so as not to share my bad thoughts with him. It is essential, in my mind anyway, to not let him be affected by the bad thoughts. It's insane, yes, but its OCD. When we are out and about and I have bad thoughts, I use my handy-dandy hand sanitizer. If I am in a position to not be able to wash my hands, I will repeat phrases in my head to negate the thought. Something I might do is count "1,2,3...1,2,3...1,2,3..." or I may just repeat NO over and over again.

At midday when my son naps, this is another cleaning time. If I want to take a rest, like reading a book or watching a show, I must make sure to wash my hands at least 2 times before I sit down to do so. As well, I must sit properly on the couch. This is hard to explain. It is a feel right thing. I just must sit in a way that "feels right". If I don't, I must stand and sit again. I can stand and sit many times in a row. At this time in my day, I actually like to stay busy, because down time usually means more thoughts.

Ways I stay busy are usually doing laundry, or cleaning, or organizing, or checking things on my email or Facebook accounts. When I am cleaning, organizing, or doing laundry, everything has rules that must be followed, so germs aren't spread and no one gets hurt. This is extremely time consuming. I hate it, but I do it, because otherwise I am hysterically anxious. For instance, when I wash clothes, I have a rule of not combining our stuff with my son's stuff. As well, I will not wash certain clothes with other clothes. Lately, these rules have not been followed due to my broken arm and difficulty of doing laundry. And lately, I have been feeling overwhelmed by the stress from it. As well, certain things can not be on kitchen counters and certain things can not touch each other. Its exhausting keeping up with the rules, and my mind made them up. But, my mind is certain that if I don't follow the rules, something awful will happen...No, not just awful, but horrendous, life-shattering, epic disaster. The anxiety in these moments is awful. Its almost fatal. In fact, having OCD can be fatal for some folks. Sad, but true.

When my son wakes, the regular routine continues. Loads of hand washing and loads of phrases repeated in my head. As well, each time I wash my hands, I must make sure the faucet is turned off...and that isn't as simple as just turning the faucet off. I must stare at the faucet and repeat "1,2,3" over and over in my head, to assure my brain that the faucet is indeed turned off. 

After we put our son to bed for the night, I rush through a list in my head of things to be done and quickly start at that. But, remember, the rules must be followed. So something that takes you only 10 minutes to do, will usually take me twice as long. I will prepare for my shower. My clothes are dirty, so they can not touch anything clean. As well, once I have removed my clothes and put them in the hamper, I can not touch anything else until I have washed my hands at least 2 times. (I am not sure why 2, because most everything else I do is done in 3s.) I will then shower, but there are even rules to be followed in showering. Because of this, I am sometimes exhausted from just the thought of getting in the shower. Ugh! After showering, I will dry off and get dressed in a particular way and then I am ready to relax for the evening...or at least my version of relaxation. The "feels right" sitting will occur on the couch or in the chair again. If I have bad thoughts, as always I will be washing my hands. 

As I prepare for bed, I will start checking things. Taking my medications, I will stare at them counting to 3 over and over. Brushing my teeth, I will count in my head in 3s. I will check things, always counting in 3s. Then I will get into bed...oh, and it must feel right when I get into bed, or I have to get out and get into bed again. Of course, that can be repeated over and over again, too. Finally, I will sleep. Unfortunately, it is not easy for me to sleep...so I will usually stay up quite a while on the laptop or watching a show or rescanning memories in my head for anything I might have done wrong or bad that day. When I finally pass out, that is a good thing...Unfortunately, though, OCD can attack you in your dreams...Damnit!!!

So this is just a little taste of a day in my OCD life. I haven't included all my compulsions and everything I do. It is a generalized view. But hopefully it will help you understand this condition better. The horror that occurs in our minds is way, WAY more than I could ever convey here. Without any joke at all, we truly live in a hell inside our minds that we can only escape sometimes. OCD is something you learn to live with, though. I have learned.

My Compulsions Continued...Wash, Rinse, Repeat...

a lot of us OCD folks have a type of compulsion called "feel right" compulsion. in many ways, all our compulsions are "feel right" compulsions. usually the "feel right" component is an add on to a more defined compulsion. for instance, i have a compulsion to flick the switch three times when turning off the light. but my "feel right" compulsion might make me carry out the flicking of the switch three times over and over until i think it feels like it was done properly. another feel right compulsion relates to my prayers...i will often have to pray over and over until it feels right or at least repeat parts of the prayer. i also have to situate clothes on my body properly until they feel right. if they don't feel right, my anxiety overwhelms me to a bursting point. (a side note: right now i am hardly able to properly situate my clothes due to my broken arm and i'm quite upset by that!!!) during my pregnancy, my feel right compulsion revolved around my sitting on the couch properly. i would stand and sit over and over until i got it right. and i mean for a while.

another compulsion i have is to check faucets. i turn them off and then i must stare at them until it "feels right" to me. yeah, there's the damn feel right thing again. i will turn off faucets, go in the other room, start something, and have to return to stare at the faucet. during the staring i will usually repeatedly count to 3 or in multiples of three. its not a compulsion i want, but one i am literally driven to carry out...its like the drive to scratch when you have poison ivy. such silliness!!!

i will end tonight saying thank you to those out there reading this. not too many i'm sure, but nonetheless it helps. how does it help? well, it just means one more person is aware of this disorder and the toll it takes. actually, next time i am going to talk a little about that toll it takes...take a break from compulsions...see you  then!!!