Le*Petit*Hibou

ANOTHER TEXT POST.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Funny how three letters that aren’t even a word, just an abbreviation, can control so much.

O.C.D.

Almost sounds like awkward when you try to pronounce them together.  It’s fitting.

I think when one has O.C.D. for so long, one forgets how to feel and that it’s fucking OKAY to feel anyway you want.  That it’s a dishonesty to yourself to deny your own thoughts because they make you anxious about things.  The O.C.D. assigns power to thoughts, and odder still, you almost believe they do have power past just making you anxious.  Which they DO NOT.

TESTING COMPLETE; REGULAR PROGRAMMING BLOGGING TO CONTINUE AS SCHEDULED.

I think one could say that I’ve had OCD my entire life.  It just manifested itself when I was 15.  It took me until I was 16 and a special on TV to get me to admit to myself that I even had it, along with a night of spending two hours trying to go to bed, which ended in tears.  I suppose that’s when I was given help; I think the next morning I woke up to hear I had an appointment with a therapist.

Seeing a therapist for the first time is scary.  Visions of a police-headquarters-like interrogation room with a single table and bare lightbulb (complete with that pull-chain I always want to, well, pull) hanging over it flashed in my head.  I saw the female who was to analyze my brain thinking to herself, “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”  Then she’d tell me that they had a nice facility for people like me.  It’s not like I thought I’d never get out, just that I didn’t even want to go in temporarily.

The night before my visit I must’ve gotten like five hours of sleep, max.  Probably not even that much.  I spent most of the night scared and crying, but I got up and went the next day.  Thank goodness I did.

I’d recently taken a photography class in high school, so I skimmed a photography magazine that was mostly ads, and when my dad figured out I was nervous, or I told him (I don’t remember), he said, “This is the easiest doctor’s appointment you’ve ever had.  All you have to do is talk.”  All I have to do is talk and get committed.

Maybe it’s because my therapist studied interior design and almost got a degree in it, but just the light in the room, a pleasant living-room yellow, calmed me down instantly.  I sat on the couch (not leather), and I never lay down.  I just sat there and talked, and cried some more, and basically got sent home with the knowledge that other people had this same thing, and that I was not insane.

I continued to see my therapist for a few years, the visits getting further apart each time, and now I am free to schedule my appointments whenever I want one.

The OCD is never going to be completely gone.  It will always be in my memory, and probably somewhat active; things become force of habit after a while, so I have to break habits too.  However, I’m completely confident that I will get this thing even further under control, so I can achieve my goal of being a writer.  Until then, I will continue to work at it.

Coincidentally, 16 was one of my favorite ages so far.

I have to say that I was initially a bit scared to post this, but I will now.  Some people may read this and think I’m crazy, but I don’t care.

Ponder for a moment what it would be like to fight with your brain every single day of your life.  You can’t do anything without nearly every thought you have causing some irrational fear, that you have to then “fix” by compulsively doing things that are time-consuming, and extremely frustrating, not to mention senseless.  You cannot do things you want to do, or if you can, not how you want to do them, because your brain is telling you that there will be some type of unwanted consequence(s) for doing that.

Suppose that your thoughts are constantly analyzed.  Over-analyzed.  If a thought that triggers the OCD comes up while you are doing something, you must re-do the action thinking of something else.  This can often take a while, since thought-suppression makes the thought harder to get rid of.  Tell yourself not to think of red balloons.  You’ll probably think of red balloons.

While doing all of that, try to go about your daily life.

This is my daily life.  From the moment I wake up, until I fall asleep, I live like this.  My life is basically consumed by OCD.  My mind is not what it used to be; I used to be able to think freely and do as I wished, but not now.  Now, almost my every action is considered, my thoughts interrupted or attempted to be pushed away.

OCD is based on anxiety and fear.  That is why most people with OCD can’t just stop doing the compulsive behaviors cold turkey.  The fear sets in immediately, and the only thing that relaxes you again is the compulsive behaviors.  I think of this like drug addiction.  Most drug addicts continue to use because the cravings are unbearable, and the only thing that fixes it is their drug of choice.  That is basically how it works with OCD.  The only thing that fixes the result is the cause.

I know that I can get out of this OCD, and I am going to do it.  I hope to one day look back at this writing and remember how it was to have OCD, at least pronounced OCD, and feel relieved that I can say I no longer feel trapped by my own brain.  I want to say that I am the free spirit that I want to be.  I want to exist as myself, not myself with OCD.