You May Have OCD - Just A Few 'Oh Shit' Moments

“You may have OCD”. This phrase hits me in the gut. The wound from the punch is a bruise that connects to previous scars. Scars that remind me of a few ‘oh shit’ moments before hearing that phrase for the first time.

Pillow Fight:

It’s nighttime – I approach the light switch to call it a night. My mind is free. The only thought that enters is about how comfy it will be to crawl underneath the sheets. My fingers make contact, and I’m triggered. Death is the thought. With no victim assigned behind the thinking, the options are widely open.

If it were my very own thought, it would be easier. But, what if, what if the thought is about her? She is anticipating lights out just as much as I do in this moment. Lights out, another way of saying death, it could kill her. She watches me hold the switch with a pause, much longer than usual. I go for it in hope of replacing the thought with something happier by the time the switch faces down. No luck on this go.

So what do I do? I flip it back up of course. The room is illuminated again and she and I are unharmed. But I can’t put head to pillow until the switch faces down. Oh no, our relationship is going down, downhill that is. The more flips, the greater the chance things are over for us. Down, up, down, up, yet no other good thought has come to play along.

So I make it a game. With each flick of the switch, a goofy face is made. It makes her smile, after a while, her smiles are a giggle. That becomes my focus and the bad thoughts are forgotten by the time I let go of the switch. Up, down, up, down for maybe the thirtieth time and I have relief. A sigh, a brief walk to my side, and my head lies on my pillow. “You may have OCD”.

Handle That Shit:

What a day. All smiles, I reach the door of my apartment, knowing that on the other side is a furry ball of joy with a wagging butt to greet me. Key turns, knob twists, I cross the threshold, closing the door with me on the other side. This fur-ball, my fur-ball, that barely comes up to my shin, is standing on his hind legs looking up at me with a grin.

I rub his head with my free hand. My non free hand is stuck to the inside door knob. I don’t like the intrusive thought that enters my mind as I enter – It has to go. The only way I know how to do that, is to redo ‘that’. No one else is home, so I ask him to forgive me and remind him that i will be right back. Like, right back.

I don’t drop off my stuff. Instead, I exit, only to re-enter. Crap, I don’t like that unwanted thought either. Another redo is in order. I do it again. This time, I pay attention to the outside. You know, I need to see if anyone is watching me make a fool of myself. Yes, I know it’s foolish, yet I do it anyway. I actually do it a number of times.

At one point, I do drop off my things. My bags are making my shoulders ache, so I get one relief. Feeling embarrassed, I sit, with my back to the door. My free hand petting his head on my lap. My non free hand, hovering above my own head, still stuck to the doorknob. “You may have OCD”.

Calm Down. No, You Calm Down:

In this moment, all I want to do is relax. “Relax”, but I am apparently not listening to myself. I try to focus on my work, but I am triggering bad. My cubicle seems to be getting smaller and when that phone rings, I am sure to lose my cool. Ring-a-ring, so I lose my shit. I disconnect the call before they can even hear the noise in my background.

Now, I am even more triggered. I can’t hold still. I want to stand, but when I do, I can’t let go of the arms of my chair. This feeling owns me, and I can not shake it in the moment. I sit, I stand, I sit, I stand. All without letting go of either arm of the chair. Please, someone walk into my cube so that I might be forced to let go in fear of not letting anyone see me like this.

“Knock, knock, you ready for lunch? Are you alright?” Oh no, did they witness this, am I exposed? I thought I wanted this, now I have to explain or shake this shit off faster than… “Yeah, I’m good. I’m starving. I’ll meet you down there. Just gotta finish something up really quick.” I say something like this.

“Cool, I’ll wait.” They say, they stay, they take a seat. Great, now I have to relax or reveal my status as a fucking weirdo. Calm down. No you calm down. You calm down. HEY, that’s not how this works. I will not be calm in this moment because there is nothing calming about this moment. Fake it, be uneasy while doing it, and we will revisit this later with another opportunity. “You may have OCD”.

You May Have OCD:

Wait, what, did you say OCD? I’m pretty sure what I deal with does not have a name. If it does, it is not OCD. OCD is for neat freaks. These are just some of my initial thoughts hearing that phrase for the first time. If you have read any of my blogs before, this is where my road to recovery begins. With “You may have OCD”.