A Day In The Life Of An OCD Patient

((It’s a long post, but I feel it’s worth reading. Also, I welcome and encourage other people with OCD to share their experiences as well.))

Obsessive-compulsive disorder is a widely known yet grossly misunderstood mental illness. The media would lead one to believe in the stereotypical representation of obsessive-compulsive disorder. If asked to describe the illness, the average person would likely give the following persona: a high-strung “neat freak” with an obsession over cleanliness and order. Some people with OCD may experience this, but they are not the majority. In actuality, there are two primary diagnostic criteria: the experience of obsessions and/or compulsions, and the amount of time spent on these obsessions and compulsions throughout the day. Obsessions are recurring and intrusive thoughts that cause distress to the patient. Compulsions are behaviors that the patient carries out in order to alleviate the stress caused by obsessions. These behaviors can manifest in countless ways. To illustrate, I will describe my own experience as an example of how OCD can present itself and how it disrupts daily life.

When I wake up and get ready for the day, my first obstacle tends to be brushing my teeth. I have always hated this task, and would often avoid it. When I brush my teeth, I always clean my tongue, or else I’ll have bad breath. When I clean my tongue, I have to be thorough or there’s no point- this results in me trying to scrub the very back of my tongue and triggering a gag reflex. Impulsively, I do this three or four times in a row, until my body is content, and then I finish up and move on. As I leave for class, I lock the door and check the doorknob. And then I check it again. And again. One more time for good measure? Okay, now I can go. I take a few steps forward, then pause. Did I remember to lock the door? I go back and check a couple more times. Finally, I’m on my way to class. Walking to class, I keep my eyes on the ground to be sure I don’t step on the lines in the pavement. I don’t know what would happen if I do- nothing, probably- but I’m worried nonetheless and do what I need to in order to alleviate the discomfort.

Classrooms are minefields. I don’t know what will be awaiting me, and what could set me off at any moment. Sitting down, I notice that the person next to me has their bag open and hanging over the edge of the table. My heart rate quickens and feel afraid. If that bag doesn’t move, it will surely fall off the edge of the table. I try to look forward and ignore it. There’s some writing on the board that hasn’t been fully erased. Haphazardly strewn fragments of marker taunt me, and I decide to just stare down at my notebook, trying not to think about the bag and the board. And then, of course, someone coughs. I tense up, wincing as I brace myself. They clear their throat loudly, then sniffle. They likely have a cold, making them a soundboard from my worst nightmares. It continues for a few minutes, and my body is shivering. Violent thoughts flood my mind, and they terrify me as I try to block everything out. I want to commit acts of great violence against the source of these noises. I’m upset, and on the verge of tears, so I get up and leave abruptly. Once outside of the classroom, I begin to calm a bit and wait around for my next class. On a bad day, this may happen during every class. During my next class, I keep trying to write a paragraph, but my handwriting doesn’t look how I want it to. I rip the barely marked page and crumple it up, having to start over until I am contented.

After all of my classes, I drive home. After parking, I lock my car and see the lights flash. I remove my headphones and lock it again so I can hear it lock. Then, I reach for the door handle and check as many times as I need to know it’s locked. I head back to my apartment and see the living room is still cluttered. I don’t bother to clean it, but I do putter around until nothing is unappealing to my eyes. Nothing over the edge of the tables, no misaligned papers, and so on. It’s about time to glue my dentures in again, as the sealant wore off. This means I have to go through the struggle of brushing my teeth all over again.

I make dinner, and suddenly I can’t remember if I locked my car or not. It gnaws at me, even though I’m pretty sure I locked it. But what if I didn’t? So I put on my coat and shoes, and I walk out to where my car is parked, a five minute walk from the apartment. I go and find that it was indeed locked, and then go through my cycle of checking before I go back inside. Dinner is ready, and I dish up my plate with absolute precision. No different foods may touch. At all. If the juices from a piece of pork dribble into my mashed potatoes, then I will dispose of the contaminated portion, wipe up the juices, and continue eating with an untainted meal. I take a sip of soda, then press my tongue to the sharp edge of the opening of the can. I don’t know why I do, but if I don’t then I become uncomfortable and nervous until I do. Some of these compulsions don’t make any sense, but here I am nonetheless. Throughout the evening, I notice various things to adjust and get up every time to fix it. I think about something that might be unsightly in another room. Is my plate hanging over the edge of my nightstand? I go and check. No, I didn’t. But I still had to check, of course. Every time I feel uncomfortable or nervous, I crack my knuckles. It doesn’t alleviate anything, it just feels nice. I used to bite my nails, but with dentures I can’t do that, so I make sure to trim them almost daily so they remain short. They’re kind of painfully short- I can’t open pull tabs very well. I keep them this way, though. That’s just how it is.

It’s time for bed, and as usual, I can’t get comfortable until I crack my back, crack my neck, crack my knuckles, stretch, lay on both sides, crack my knuckles again, crack my back again, and then lay down… and do it all again in a few minutes until I eventually pass out.

That’s my average day, every day. It used to be worse, but medication certainly helps a lot. I wish that more people know about this side of OCD; I’m fairly open about it with others because I want to dispel the myths and stereotypes. Even if it’s sometimes difficult to talk about, they are necessary conversations that will help us, as a society, strive towards the better treatment of mentally ill people.

So, I’m going to an intensive in-patient treatment center.

When I first heard about it, I thought about the stereotypical mental hospital. However, as I’m going through the process of setting up my admission and it definitely seems a hell of a lot different (in a good way) than my first impressions.

Anyways, what I’m thinking is that I might keep a detailed journal describing what it’s really like. For a long time, I feared being locked up or admitted. That prevented me from reaching out to the full extent of what I was struggling with.

I wonder if a firsthand, in-the-moment log of my experience may help others who fear needing that level of help. What do you all think?

Well, it’s official. I will be offline from July 10th to August 5th because I’m being admitted to a partial-hospitalization program. There’s a lot of stigma surrounding needing to be hospitalized ((partially or fully)) due to mental illness. It brings thoughts of mental wards and people fucked up beyond repair. Because mine is partial, it just runs from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. then I stay in dorms at the facility like any other dorm. I guess a better term is in-patient, since the word “hospitalization” is the key word that there’s a stigma against.

I don’t know how I feel. To be clear, I am 100% going of my own volition. I’ve been struggling with all sorts of mental illnesses and issues since age 13. Over 7 years, no therapy or medication or both has only helped. At this point I just want to get better. I flunked out of college and moved back in with my parents, and I’ll only spiral down further if there’s no intervening. It’s just a lot to take in, and a lot to think about.

Don’t forget to celebrate the small things.

To some people, it feels like you’re doing the bare minimum. However, if you’re doing things even when they extremely hard for you (in regards to taking care of yourself), you need to remember that you’re a fucking badass for doing it and you’re doing amazing.

Today, I ate before noon for the first time in weeks. My mom smiled and congratulated me, saying I did good. My girlfriend was proud of me and let me know it. It’s hard for me to love myself or affirm myself for doing these things I feel like I should be able to do easily, but those simple words of praise made a big difference.

There is not shame on relying on others for help.

I have trouble accepting this, and I probably always will to some degree.

It’s not easy. It’s one of the hardest things to do, but if it’s what helps you get better, then it’s worth it.

I already have trouble eating enough food, but the stress and depression from the past few days has made it so hard to eat. I feel hungry, but it feels way worse to eat anything. I ate half of the breakfast my girlfriend made for me and I forced down some popcorn just now, but that doesn’t really have much substance to it.

kcrra:

you know those intrusive thoughts that are so horrible and so shameful and so disgusting that you cannot tell them to anyone in the whole world- not your therapist, not your pets, not even the Internet or a diary because they are so intensely revolting and sickening that if anyone ever knew them no one would ever want to even breathe your air again

Hey, no offense, but can we stop making up childhood cartoon conspiracy theories? Let’s be real; they’ll all basically the same. That’s not the problem, though. What ticks me off is that almost all of them involve trying to prove a character as mentally ill. Now, I love to headcanon mentally ill characters, but in conspiracy theories, it’s usually thought up by an NT who knows nothing about mental health and thinks it’s okay to use mental health to creep other people out and ‘ruin’ their childhood. If you can’t make a decent theory or creepy story without throwing mental illnesses under the bus, you’re a shitty author.

Okay but it blows my mind that there are actually people that only feel anxiety sometimes???

It’s kind of exhausting that I’m often measured by my ability to mimic a genuine able-bodied neurotypical™.

pluto–nerd:

anguisettesnakedtruth:

misandry-mermaid:

gothicstripper:

lady-stella:

moneyandsins:

cvntcutie:

citrine8:

citrine8:

Babysitting has solidified the fact that I don’t want kids.

But if any accidents happen then I will absolutely beat my kids if they get out of line.

No fucking way a child will disrespect me like this little bitch does.

I would DEADASS smack my child in the face if they EVER raised their voice to me like the girl did tonight. She ended up apologized to me because I ignored her and I told her to never speak to me like that again lol Her parents might not teach her manners but I for sure will. 

@citrine8 I was a home tutor for about 4 years and I have “traumatised” all my kids into respectful adults now. I really don’t get parents who do not discipline their children! 

I babysit often and I could never have my own. Like I witnessed my friend’s kid under 3 punk/intimidate another kid OLDER than him and I was appalled when she didn’t do anything about it. That’s a bully in the making 😕 And she asks me all the time why he doesn’t act crazy around me…um because he knows I’ll whoop his ass? Lol

Hi guys don’t fucking threaten to hit children. Thanks!

Yeah that’s extremely fucking shitty. Fun Fact: You can discipline your kids without hitting them if you put some effort into it.

There is no excuse to hit or smack or even threaten to harm children. EVER

If I can control 30 goddam children at once at 5'2 and 47kg (not physically intimidating) without physically touching them -ever- you can control one child without fucking hitting them. Or, if you can’t, I guess you’re just terrible with kids and need to stay away from them.

This is disgusting, and saying if you ever have ‘accidents’ if you’re ever gonna have children and then treat them like that then please put them up for adoption so they have a chance of finding a good home instead of having a abusive prick like you for a parent.

EXACTLY. If you don’t like kids, fine. Cool. Then don’t have them. Use protection, and don’t have kids. But jokes about child abuse are NOT funny, and if you express any of that attitude around actual children, please leave. Leave from where? I don’t know, just leave. 

I personally don’t like kids, but here’s my magic solution: I’m not going to have kids and I’m not going to have a job where I regularly work with kids. Wow, that was super easy and I didn’t even need to make a joke about physically hitting a child! DON’T normalize that kind of “joking”. It’s not a joke. Let me tell you first-hand that my OCD causes intrusive thoughts, and some of them are horrific; the things that pop into my head frighten me and disgust me, but they’re involuntary violent thoughts. If you willingly make light of the things I’m horrified to find myself thinking, you’re probably not suited to be around children. Ever.

pyxis-star:

ok so i unfollowed a bunch of people and i still am going through my followed blogs
please reblog this if you are :

•mentally ill (esp. bpd, psychosis or ddnos)
•part of a system (median preferred, although multiple is fine too!)
•trans/non-straight
•over 13/under 25
•otherkin/fictionkin
•aromantic

or if you post :
•pokemon
•undertale
•homestuck
•pastels
•space
•pixel art

!! (note: i probably wont follow if youre cis sorry)
specify what applies to you in the tags!!!

also, if you want to follow me please read the links in my description!!

College Chronicles

I kind of regret offering to help cover someone’s shift today, but I really need the money and it’s just an hour- I need to double check but I think it’s two 25 minute appointments ((instead of one 50 minute appointment)). At the very least I’m getting a bit of rest since I left class early- all that sniffling, hacking, wheezing, coughing… I downed some Excedrin, made a bowl of soup and a cup of milky tea. The power is flickering here and there because it’s so windy and stormy, but such is life. Not having the best day, honestly.