Every time I mention my OCD, I get a lot of questions. Some are ignorant, but some are genuine. I want to help you understand this disorder, as it affects me. I don’t know how it affects other people, so don’t take this as insight into OCD as a whole. This is my story. Short, sweet, and to the damn point.
I was diagnosed with OCD when I was eight years old. It started with me touching things twice, constantly counting to four, and grouping things into even numbers. Over the years, it’s done nothing but get worse, according to the doctors. According to me, though, it’s getting better. The relief that I feel when I straighten something on a shelf, or tap something twice, is unimaginable.
If I touch something, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I need to touch it again. Sometimes, however, my chest gets really tight, and that’s when I know that I need to repeat whatever I just did. I spend about 4 hours a day doing my compulsions.
My life isn’t greatly affected by my disorder, because I’ve gotten really good at making it look like nothing out of the ordinary. I’m an OCD ninja, all stealth-like and sneaky. The only people that know about my OCD are my parents and siblings…and you guys, of course. I’m not ashamed of it, I’m not embarrassed by it, I’m nothing but content with it. It’s just easier to not tell people, because once you do, there will be a million questions, assumptions that you’re crazy, and funny looks as the rumor mill is in motion.
I’m aware of my OCD, I’m aware that it’s not going to go away, and I’m aware that it affects me more than I’ll ever know.
Comments have been left open for this post. Feel free to leave a comment, anonymous or otherwise, below.