For years I didn’t think I had OCD, a.k.a. obsessive-compulsive disorder. With my ignorance, I thought OCD only strictly described people who are very neat and couldn’t stand to see things out of place. I didn’t know that OCD could be so particular, that it could branch out and apply to many other things. Most of all, I didn’t think OCD could be so extreme.
OCD is defined as having unreasonable thoughts and fears/obsessions that lead to compulsive behaviors. Two of the major OCDs that plague my mind applies to hand washing and driving. If I need to wash my hands for anything—after using the bathroom, after taking out the trash, after working in a lab, etc.—I have to wash my hands at least three times. I’ve tried washing my hands only twice, but I just couldn’t deal. The only thing I could think about was how my hands needed to be washed a third time. Those were the only thoughts that could generate, everything else got pushed to the back of my mind. Then when I finally caved in, when I went back to the sink to get that third hand wash, all returned back to normal. Life could continue once again.
With driving, I always have the paranoia of hitting a pedestrian with my car. I know that I didn’t hit that person walking on the side of the road because I didn’t feel a bump. And I know I definitely didn’t hit anyone that other time because there wasn’t even anyone on the road to hit. But my mind disagrees. It makes me think that I’ve just killed someone every time. There are two voices in my head fighting with each other: “You just hit someone!” and “No you didn’t, there wasn’t even anyone there!” and “You definitely hit someone, your mind wandered for 0.3 seconds and you weren’t paying attention. What if in that 0.3 seconds you ran someone over and didn’t even realize it?”
I’ve re-driven the same routes just to scope out the roads for any possible injured pedestrians. I’ve sat by my bedroom window after I’ve driven up my street just to see if another car will drive by, because if another car drives by that means they drove through the same route I did with no problem—which means I didn’t run anyone over. I would sit by that window for ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty, even forty. As long as it takes for another car to drive by, just so I can make sure I didn’t run anyone over. I would put my life on hold—I would start my homework late or miss the start of my favorite TV show for this.
I’m not a chill person. I get nervous at the slightest things. There’s a daily sense of anxiety that I go through; anxiety over a test or if I’m going to be late for work or if I can finish my homework before three in the morning. But the anxiety that comes with OCD is its own species. It’s the type of anxiety that completely consumes you, possesses you, and claims you as its own. It puts you in a cage and it’s the only thing that knows where the key is. It torments you and makes you cry violent tears and makes you shake like you’ve just felt an 8.0 earthquake and makes you question why you’re obsessing over something so ridiculous in the first place. You don’t understand why you’re so nervous because it doesn’t make sense to worry over these silly things. But at the same time, it all makes perfect sense.
Then you go to sleep, and the next day the cycle will start again.
