My OCD text over computer headphones and notebook

Not just my OCD. My eyes have played tricks on me before, and sometimes I bite. “Was that…” and by the time I get a more focused look, it is indeed revealed that the coworker down the hall is not a juggling penguin. My ears too have played tricks on me, constantly. “Did she just say?” No Brent, she did not mention a ‘pungent doodle’. She mentioned ‘rent due’.

When my mind plays tricks on me, when OCD gets to tricking, it’s not as fun of a banter. I’ve dealt with OCD since a teen. It wasn’t until my mid twenties did I even know it had a name. I’ve been working on recovery since. With progress I can be proud of, and moments where I feel it trying to kick down doors again.

What is OCD – Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? It’s a bitch, that’s what it is. Those who deal with it obsess over intruding thoughts that trigger repetitive behaviors in an attempt to gain ease over the unwanted thoughts or images. It is controlling and usually cycles through feelings of Obsession – Anxiety – Compulsions – Relief, only to cycle through this again at the next distressing thought.

This is an intro to how my OCD has had a hold on me, then and now:

My OCD Then and Now

Preteen:

I was an outside kid. From sun up to sun down, all I wanted to do was be outside. Outside meant basketball, bikes, and swimming when applicable in Ohio. My first true love is the game of basketball. Before leaving my house for a full day of basketball, I had to make a shot before I left – Either in my room on my nerf hoop, or in my driveway.

This didn’t take long, I was really good at shooting. I would hit my shot, hit the courts, play phenomenally in most cases and before leaving the black top to go home, I had to make my last shot. This would ensure my next game would be even better than the previous.

OCD severity = 0. I chalked this up to superstition. Not much thought involved.

Basketball and hoop with text My first true love and where OCD came to play

High School:

Before the ladies were capable of breaking my heart, my first true love had me breaking a collarbone, ankles, and numerous sprains that kept me on the bench – Basketball seemed to have no problem breaking my heart. I was often hurt. When I could not play basketball, it was difficult to be happy. Even when injury free, instead of training to be stronger and less injury prone, I reverted to rituals.

Now, instead of one shot pregame, I needed to make a certain amount of shots in a row to convince myself that I wouldn’t get hurt during today’s games. If it took too long to make 3, 5, sometimes 10 shots in a row, then that day’s games brought risks.

Some days I would listen, some days I would play anyway. Sometimes I played great, had fun, was glad that I played, despite what my rituals told me. Other times I got hurt, whether I made my consecutive shots previously or not. I didn’t take it as sports come with bumps and bruises or the rationality that a bit of training could help reduce injuries. My friends didn’t deal with injuries nearly as much, if at all. So maybe I needed to change my ritual.

My senior year book had a “What if…” section. Mine was ‘What if Brent wasn’t always hurt’ – Ouch. My rituals weren’t working, so I dropped them.

OCD severity = 10. It only pertained to basketball then and I was able to drop the ritual.

College – Freshman to Junior years:

I played basketball frequently and enjoyed it without getting hurt too. I worked out more in general, so my sports injuries then were mostly aches and sores. Now I have other responsibilities over basketball. I juggled 21 credits along with 20 hours of work every week. My grades were better than average and I managed a social life. I also found myself caring for others as much and sometimes more than myself.

My best friends’ success was as important to me as my own success. I would pray, I would check on them, and when they were down, I was down with them and vice versa. Family was not on campus, so when my parents, siblings, aunt had reason to feel down, I worried.

I began to think then that my thinking could have an outcome on how they were doing. So when I thought of them, I had to think of positive thoughts only. You can see how difficult this can be since OCD focuses on the negativity. My thinking was if I didn’t worry about them, whatever they were going through would get worse. 

OCD severity = 30. Whenever unwanted thoughts came in I practically karate chopped them in half until I could replace with better thoughts. My OCD had me thinking that worry was a must but worrisome thoughts must be replaced with positivity. Contradicting.

Text book picture UGH

College – Senior year:

I was in love, I had someone that I genuinely cared about more than myself. Her happiness was more important than mine. My parents separated at the time and seemed unhappy without each other. I didn’t want that, nor did I want that for them.

Insert the physical compulsions. When I walked to class, I made sure to step inside each square a certain amount of times, I made sure to flip light switches a certain amount of time, and whenever thoughts of divorce popped into my head, I had to redo whatever it was I was doing during that thought, whether it taking a bite of food to spit it out and re-bite, or walking forward then stepping back just to take another step forward again.

It got exhausting, but divorce wasn’t happening and I was still in love.

OCD severity = 70. I found myself spending more time on things not to think of then focusing on what I really needed to focus on. Worries of love and divorce transitioned to well being and safety.

Right out of college:

Compulsions got worse. I now added self doubt about getting a job in my field as a mechanical engineer. Having an apartment to myself meant I could flick as many light switches as I wanted. I could walk in and out as many times as I wanted. I could beat those bad thoughts out of my head as necessary with no one around to find out my OCD secret.

‘Plush’ Written by Brent Peters, narrated by Fear. Free to subscribers
‘Plush’ Written by Brent Peters, narrated by Fear.
Free to subscribers

OCD severity = 80. It became difficult to hide it from others, but they didn’t know what to look for. I didn’t even know what OCD was yet. I honestly thought I was crazy, or superstitious, or crazy superstitious.

24 years old:

I’m engaged at the time, my OCD has its moments, and on a day where Michigan and Ohio State were playing football against one another, I found myself rooting for Michigan like I had always done. After the game, I got a call from my parents. The topic was if I had watched the game because everyone else in my family are Ohio State Buckeyes fans. I watched Michigan lose and drove home to my Florida apartment.

Later that day, my older sister was rushed to the hospital and my dad calls to tell me he was driving to Columbus Ohio to be with her. The next time I talked to him was because my sister had passed away.

While arrangements were being made, I went to work. I was young, I didn’t know how these things worked, but a buddy came in to talk to my supervisor and the next thing I know they allowed me to go home so I could go be with family. That same buddy came to check on me later at my place. I remember the sequence when he pulled up – he hugged me, I cried, and trying be strong in the moment I let him know that I left a turkey, mayo on white bread sandwich in the fridge at work. I walked away later thinking I’m never bringing a turkey, mayo on white bread sandwich to the work place ever again, and I’m never rooting for Michigan against Ohio State ever again.

OCD severity = 90. Same compulsions got worse. Mental and physical compulsions seemed to be more frequent with little control.

The 5 year engagement:

I began to question everything. Should I get married, do I want to get married, does she still even want to marry me, should I chase my dream of writing, should I move back to Ohio, should I go out tonight? I don’t have much money and I don’t want another night of hiding my compulsions from everyone.

All I ever wanted to do at this point was sit still, watch television, and not think of any obsessive thoughts. I didn’t want to walk into any more rooms, turn on or off any more lights, grab anymore door knobs. I grew tired of walking backwards, tired of repeating these numeric rituals which I knew was the cause of my unhappiness.

Text I wanted to tell OCD to fuck off but cussing made me feel guilty

Choices meant thinking. Thinking meant the possibility of intrusive thoughts. Intrusive thoughts meant that something that should take me 2 seconds could possibly take me 20 minutes. Don’t give me choices of what I want for dinner, I didn’t want my choices to negatively impact anyone else.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I was incapable to making decisions because of my OCD. I was more compulsive than ever, and I had had enough. Apparently, so did she. While breaking things off with me, she advised that I might have OCD.

Wait, what is OCD?

OCD severity = 100. It was at its worst.

After learning what OCD really is:

I moved to Virginia, met my wife. No other option but to be straight forward with her. I deal with OCD and sometimes it is really bad. She fell in love with me anyway. Thank goodness! Because of my OCD, I almost messed things up before we could start.

I was researching, I was googling, I was making attempts to do better. With the realization that there are others out there that do this too, what a relief. I talk about it more whether its hold on me is weak or strong.

OCD severity = UGH OCD. It’s a work in progress with a lot of progression that I want to share. I am proud of my progression. Anyone dealing with OCD or any mental illness should be.

Progress is progress I am proud of mine. Anyone dealing with OCD or any mental illness should be

Check out another post where my progress hits a snag: Never Thought It.

Let me know if you found this helpful. I am curious to hear your opinions. Leave a comment or find me on Twitter @UghOCD or Instagram @brentleybigkid.


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