When something has been a regular occurrence or feeling in your life, you just assume that it’s like that for everyone else, too. You never stop to think that there’s even a possibility that you’re doing something that isn’t normal. Even when you’re moaned at or nagged, or called a control freak, for some reason you still don’t see that something isn’t right. Until you grow up.
I watched a documentary last night about people admitting to their problems, and seeing as there are still problems I haven’t mentioned on here or really admitted to myself, I decided it was time to unleash another. I think I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
I have irrational fears and intrusive feelings. For as long as I can remember, things have always had to be ‘just right’, and I simply could not stop until they were. Something odd I remember often doing is touching the door-frame. If I’d hit my shoulder whilst walking through, I would always have to stop and touch it again in exactly the same place, until it felt right, or until I got to a ‘comfortable number’. My number was usually 4. Sometimes I would turn around and touch the other shoulder 4 times as well, to make it even. I remember counting words, too. If I was singing along to something for example, and I sung a wrong word, I would have to repeat it 3 times, so that they added to the original to make a fourth. Then and only then would I feel that it had been ‘cancelled out’ and no longer mattered.
I once cleaned all the cupboards inside and out, before even attempting to put my things inside them. Spilling food drives me insane. If I feel like something is dirty, I must clean it, even if it's spotless. Contamination scares me. I remember being in cars and classrooms with people having to squish to one side of the desk or back seat in fear of being touched and 'contaminated'. I am protective of my belongings. I can’t deal with place-mats and coasters out of line on the table, or dvd cases and books out of place on the shelf. The clothes in my wardrobe are categorized and organised, just like my draws, books, shoes, and even my coats on the coat rack. I won’t rest until my clothes are folded exactly symmetrical or the corners of my towels match up exactly, and I cannot sleep until the top of the duvet is perfectly in place inside the duvet cover. I always move the chairs in my mum’s lounge so they are aligned, and I always have to close the curtains so they are 'perfect' and I can see no gaps. I get anxious that I will be at harm if people realise that the lights are on behind the curtains, and somebody is in. When I am alone outside I am always paranoid that somebody’s behind me, or out to get me. When I am home alone I am always anxious that somebody is in the back garden, or right against the door as I check several times that it’s locked. If I forget to check something, I will be stressed and unfocussed until I get the chance to check it. I notice details too well, and remember them too often. I reread things over and over until I feel like I know what it says, and I always worry that I don't know something well enough. When I travel places, I have to check everything I've packed several times, even if it means I have to unpack and repack. I fear too much that I will miss something out.
I have routines. I follow routines before I go to bed, before I go out somewhere, before I travel somewhere, before I go to work, etc. Often I have found myself late or rushing for something because my routine overran, or waking up at stupid o’clock downstairs because I lacked the energy to get ready for bed and had fallen asleep because I ‘just couldn’t’ miss the routine and go straight to bed. Changes in plans fill me with panic. My room at my mum’s is like my little temple. I’ll admit, it’s not always neat, but everything is in a place I am content with. It’s the one place in which nobody can touch things or move them, or lose them. I’ve always said that my bedroom is my organised chaos, because it’s the one room that is only used by me, or me and others at the same time.
Many times I have found myself obsessing over someone or something, and it used to hurt. I mean, I would be so fed up of constantly thinking about that one thing over and over that I would just get so distressed to the point of screaming. Having clean hands is something I also obsess over. I know that’s such a cliché symptom, but it’s one I have. I simply cannot cope with the feeling of sticky or dirty hands, whether they’re mine or anybody else’s. I remember being annoyed at school, wondering how people could eat their packed lunches without washing their hands before/after. I used to constantly be crossing out words in my books at school if I felt that they weren't neat enough or 'just didn't look right'. A reoccurring thought that’s been with me ever since I can remember is ‘I’m not good enough’ or something I’ve done ‘isn’t good enough’. I know that naturally as human beings we are our own harshest critics, but an obsession over a need for reassurance simply isn’t natural.
I go through phases of severity and my obsessions and anxieties have changed as I’ve grown up, but many of the things mentioned above are still things I struggle with daily. Up until last night I had never even thought about treatment because I thought it was all just 'ways of life'. I thought OCD symptoms were things people just continued to live and struggle with, but now help is something I’m going to look into. Since coming out of hospital and being 'labelled' with a stomach disease I have always feared adding 'labels' to my list of imperfections, but sometimes the things we need to do reign higher than the things we want to do. Half of me is still unconvinced and feels like all the things I do are normal, but the other half is tired of being obsessed and anxious, because it makes me feel insecure. Even the simple thought of a time when I won't feel it necessary to check everything is off or locked or closed, etc, or have everything perfectly aligned or 'in it's place' distresses me. The fact I have these feelings frustrates me but it isn’t possible to just stop like that, because it all revolves around thoughts in my head and they can’t be turned off with a flick of a switch.
Nobody's perfect, everyone has flaws. This is one of mine.
Step up and help yourself. Admit that you’re struggling.
Admitting there is a problem is the first step to recovery.
Here’s to a brighter, potentially less ‘arranged’ (AHHHHHHHHH!!) future.
It’s scary to try new things and ways of life, but hopefully this will be a calmer one.
Courtney’s Imagination★
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