As someone with OCD, I find jokes about it and people claiming they “have OCD” — or, even worse, “[are] OCD” to be very hurtful. But worse than people using OCD in an ableist manner is people telling me that I can’t have OCD because I don’t conform to whatever their idea of what having OCD means — usually that I don’t spend my spare time cleaning my flat or checking doorknobs. There are more compulsions than cleaning and checking locks, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the obsessions.

In short: Thank you for posting this. I now want to take a page out of this and write about my own struggles with the disorder (but I’m not sure it would make it to publication on my blog because of my obsessions and compulsions).

For anyone who is dealing with OCD now, you can recover, like others have said it is always there in some way, but you can greatly improve your life, it may take some time but you can get there.

I have OCD. It doesn’t manifest itself in a terribly visible form–a lot of the times, when i tell someone I have OCD, they say “Really? I never would’ve known!” This is probably because TV shows like Monk make everyone think that someone with OCD will be instantly easy to spot. It’s also because I’ve been able to manage it pretty successfully in the past few years. But the thing about my OCD is that it’s largely mental, in that it’s very visible to ME but not necessarily to others. I don’t check doors or wash my hands or do a lot of the other typical compulsive behaviors. I do pick my skin, and people have noticed that before, but it’s not to a chronic level. I also have facial tics, which may or may not be related to the OCD (might just be genetic, I’m not sure), but those have gotten a lot better than they used to be. The big problems I have are the intrusive thoughts, the obsessions, the horrible images that pop into my head. Before I was diagnosed, and before I started actively managing my OCD, these caused me to become very depressed and even suicidal, simply because I could not get away from the horrible things in my head. I didn’t understand why I was having these thoughts, I couldn’t stop thinking about them, and I thought that I must be a horrible person for having such horrible thoughts–even though I didn’t want to have them.

Anyway, that’s my story. Therapy and medication have helped me out a LOT. I’ll never be cured, and I’ll have to deal with OCD for the rest of my life. But I wish people would realize that, as you said, it’s not a cute habit. It’s not a funny little quirk. It’s very painful and, at times, devastating.

Thanks for this article!

This was uncomfortable for me to read because it reminded me of my problem. I have dermotillomania. My body is covered with scars. I’ve picked my scabs, pimples, and other blemishes for more than twelve years now. I can’t go more than a few minutes without doing it. Lately it’s begun to manifest as trichitillomania as well (I pluck my pubic hairs- what’s the problem? It’s unfashionable to be hairy there *sarcasm*). It doesn’t help that I have chronic major depression (although that’s managed with medication now). Stress and anxiety make me want to pick even more.
I’ve seen a hypnotist and a psychiatrist. Neither was effectual. I’m now 20 years old. I don’t know what to do.
Anyway, this was an interesting piece to read; thanks for posting it.

There is a difference between doing things because you prefer it that way, having things you feel antsy about not/doing but you can live with, and having a disorder that prevents you from doing things you really would rather do instead because you have do something else instead (often repeatedly). Conflating the three isn’t just incorrect, but can be awkward, unpleasant, painful, and humiliating. Yay!
.-= DDog´s last blog ..DDog: @bwvalentine I didn’t really get it either. The wrapper story was mostly useless, but the inner story was interesting. =-.

“Adults with OCD love them because the flesh doesn’t adhere to the pip in the same way as it does in a regular peach, so you don’t finish the eating experience covered in juice, having to lick yourself like a dog.”

It’s everywhere.

It’s the things they can’t see, like certain thoughts I just *cannot* get out of my head (usually involving doing something very violent to myself that I *know* I’m not going to do, like gouging my eyes out). Or pulling out my hair and not being able to stop. Or how I become attached to objects very easily and will often cry when throwing something away, even if it’s just a piece of paper.

When someone calls me OCD, if I’ve got enough spoons, I will correct them and explain why that statement is offensive/inaccurate/etc. People have been pretty good about listening, but they never seem to remember. And even if someone does know about, say, my Trichotillomania, they will not connect it to OCD.

Ugh, this all reminds me of hearing someone recount how he would call his friend when he *knew* his friend would be doing his rituals, so that the friend would have to start over, and he just thought it was hilarious. It wasn’t a social space I was comfortable in so I didn’t say anything but ho boy did I want to punch that guy in the face.

I also have emetophobia–fear of vomiting–and I completely agree with Lis that things that don’t seem that bad to most people are completely disgusting and triggering to me. One gross scene in a movie or book (or conversation), and I’ll be thinking about it all day, obsessing over it and ruining my appetite. It’s better than it used to be, but it still sneaks up on me sometimes.

Anyway, in the past I’ve joked about being “OCD about it” as shorthand for “this is just my particular quirk, and I can’t explain it.” But I’ve never had full-blown OCD. I do have anxiety disorder, depression, and ADD, though. I’m never quite sure what’s causing which behavior.
.-= notemily´s last blog ..itsthemusicpeople: awoodennickel:All by Banksy on the West… =-.

possible trigger warning
I used to have obsessive thoughts of gouging my eye out. I have a fear of heights and had some obsessive thoughts of plummeting to my death. It was really bad when I was living in a 14th floor in Egypt. Also, seeing the Happening didn’t help. D: