Ever Wonder What Having OCD is Like?

Click ^ above ^ for info. on this book for kids with OCD

It became evident to me today that, like me, my oldest son has telltale signs of mild OCD. I have suffered (I think I can safely say that) with a mild form of obsessive-compulsive disorder since I was about 8 or so. Thankfully, I have never needed medication for it, and I have always been able to function pretty well.

I know the age it started because I remember well a pivotal moment when, having handled something particularly disgusting as a child (someone else’s used Kleenex, I think), I mentally freaked out as my brother told me, “You know, no matter how many times you wash your hands in your lifetime, there will always be some little atom of ‘that’ still on your skin.” It’s clear now that my brother, whom I consider/ed brilliant, had probably had a lesson on the atom as the smallest particle known to man in his physical science class that day. He was just trying to teach me a little bit about it. But, to me, that statement made an indelible impression on the rest of my childhood. He laughs when I mention it and doesn’t recall it at all.

What I do want to point out is that the disorder is indeed in two parts — an obsession, which is a disturbing thought that provokes anxiety, and a compulsion, which is the behavior that one engages in to lessen the anxiety. What is confusing is that the compulsion one has to perform the soothing (often unnecessary and repetitious) activity in itself becomes an obsession. There’s something Pavolvian in it. And if the compulsion is not satisfied (performing the behavior), then greater anxiety results. If you have experienced this problem then you understand.

Perhaps what is most agonizing is that people consider the rituals odd and funny. But if you live it, the compulsions, which occur mostly when you least need them in your life (at the most stressful times), are crippling to a normal life and make one feel unproductive, mentally and physically exhausted, and helpless.  Unlike what many people think, it’s not a self-absorbed preoccupation, as one would surely choose to escape it if it were. Rather, the part of the disorder that people can see (rituals) is the coping strategy for the side (thoughts) that people cannot see. Everyone assumes that you are being picky, finicky, rigid, and/or ridiculous. Luckily, for me, I have mostly been able to handle my disorder privately, save a few things that my husband notices. It’s a blessing that he understands and accepts me as I am.

I think he drew the line, though, at my suggestion of wearing watersocks in the shower a few years ago. But still…I love him. LOL

I’ve noticed lately that my son, who is a twin and almost 12 years, has taken to arranging food on his plate. He is also meticulous about planning and tells me he is nervous about school on Monday on Sunday nights, worrying that he’ll have forgotten something. His compulsive weakness is hygiene, just as mine was, but he also has an obsession with contamination/contagion. He asks me constantly if he will have tetanus from simply touching a rusty nail, if he’ll die from eating the lunchmeat with a desiccant package in it (and when DID they start putting those in food packages?), and if shampoo in the eyes will blind him if it happens often enough. Like me, his room and desk can be a mess, and his paperwork disorganized, but he never forgets a deadline or lets someone down in their expectations of him. For him, it would be sheer terror to the point of mortification to not have his homework, to receive a conduct mark, or to get an F in school. His OCD plays terrible games in his mind in obsessing about school performance. And it’s during those times of heightened anxiety that I notice his compulsions worsen.

I tell him that, most probably, he will feel better as he gets older. But I’m watching him closely in the meantime.

Kids with OCD, though mentally impaired and often emotionally tormented, can be high-functioning. Because they must inherently learn to multitask — function in everyday activities/responsibilities while allaying fears and dealing with stressors that most people don’t experience — many are high achievers. But the problem can be unbelievably frustrating and embarrassing to admit to other people. As a child, I remember knowing that my anxiety was irrational and affected my daily habits. But I convinced myself that it was kind of a game to keep control and that I chose to act on the silly habits that I had, even though they didn’t even relate to what bothered me.

I’ve heard that scientists consider obsessive-compulsive disorder a neurological disorder. I’ve also heard something about OCD being possibly tied to strep throat. But, personally, having suffered it, I’ve wondered over the years if OCD isn’t related to either autism or Tourette’s. A lot of the behaviors and mannerisms seem of those afflicted with those two conditions seem too familiar to me. No matter, though.

To me, OCD can best be described as a nagging buddy that hangs around, constantly reminding you to do things, repeating things you already know or have done, or telling you a horrible hypothetical story over and over again until you believe that it will most probably happen. For me, the hypothetical situations would persist in my mind when there had been some remote possibility of a disaster in a daily activity in which I has just participated, as in dropping a baby I was babysitting (so I always sat with a baby), stepping on and killing my dog who was always underfoot (so I constantly looked down while walking), or accidentally hitting an accelerator instead of the brakes in a car. For the person affected with OCD, this scene plays repeatedly in her mind, to the point of wincing and drawing in breath until she is able to move on to just the right compulsion to break the disturbing thought — let’s say counting beads on her necklace five times over or redoing her hair, or rearranging items on a table.

Examples — Growing up, we had 13 steps in our home. Everytime I climbed the stairs (and still to this day), upon reaching the top, I would drop back and tap the second-to-last step again with the ball of my left foot. Can’t explain why…I just had to. Another strange obsession was/is sensitivity in the nail quicks of my ring fingers and corresponding toes. I know that’s a strange one, but true. To this day, my husband laughs that I must be the last to lock the door and try the knob a minimum of three times to ensure it doesn’t spontaneously pop out of locked position. On days when he wants to play with me as our family leaves for an outing, he will push me toward the car and beg me to trust him that it’s locked. No dice. Imagine with an OCD person what it is like to constantly check lightwitches, irons, window latches, and appliances to ensure that they are locked/turned off. And then there is the refusal to take daily medicine in any form.

In OCD, there is no psychosis, no voices, no need to harm to self or others (in fact, many of the rituals are to alleviate the fear of harm occurring). OCD is simply persistent disturbing thoughts and little habits that seem to help one to erase them.

This video I found shows it perfectly! Notice the persistent instructions going on inside the guy’s head…and repetition of the same act. I was impressed by how well the urgency and self-talk are portrayed, because that’s just how it is:

Perhaps the worst obsession from my childhood was in realizing that I was not, nor was anyone else, truly bilaterally symmetrical, nor was the world. I wanted desperately to be ambidextrous and equally functioning on both sides so that each side of me would wear and age at the same rate. And with inanimate objects — everything had to be used equally often. So to see a cup in the back of the cupboard that had not been used in a while was disconcerting. And there was the need to have painstakingly flawless handwriting, neat notes, and aligned characters within margins. To have anything straying on the page required that it be tossed and started over.

Still, anyone with OCD knows that these self-imposed habits are 1) not so self-imposed but really rules for survival, 2) irrational and often unrelated to each other, and 3) silly to everyone around us. And while everyone else is excused to live in chaos, we hold ourselves to a different standard — not because we think that we are better, but because we can’t function any other way.

My OCD symptoms seemed to improve once adulthood hit me in the face with all of its unpredictability and spontaneity. Over a few seemingly near-death experiences (anxiety/panic attacks), I realized that one doesn’t die from denting a car (on one side only), or loading a dishwasher in a different pattern, touching chalk, being unable to wash hands after reading a newspaper, or having only one napkin at a meal…or none…instead of two (no joke). These things will send some of us over the edge on a bad day.

Far and away, the strongest surviving compulsion that I have today (aside from safe house/locking door behavior) when life feels unmanageable is in repeating things verbally in conversation. This is usually in the form of instructions to my kids or in conversation with my husband. I know that they hear something the first time that it is said, but I feel the need to reiterate at least three times in any given conversation so that no one can ever claim to have misunderstood me or say that I left something out.

Another is that anything — and I mean anything aside from a condiment — that has been cooked or baked and sits (even adequately covered/contained) in the refrigerator for longer than overnight will NOT be eaten. For this reason, I prepare only what is needed per meal. And I use our freezer for only pre-frozen foods (veggies, popsicles, ice cream, and water bottles). It’s that contamination/germ thing again.

I could probably list about five habitual compulsions that I have per day when I feel particularly anxious or stressed. I’ll come back and add them as I notice because the surviving behaviors are pretty much rote now. And that’s after tremendous progress in my life, sizing down from what was once (in my disorder’s prime at about age 16) about 20 compulsive habits a day. So the obsessions have subsided for the most part, and the compulsions are more seen as a part of my personality and more verbal, less about movements and mannerisms than they used to be. Being aware that one has a problem is, as they say, half the battle.

Oh, yes, and I think that I’ve mentioned it before in earlier posts, but there is also the inability to stop writing on a thought once it is in my head, and great difficulty in finalizing any thought with the push of the “publish” button on any post. So OCD makes authoring a blog a kind of behavior therapy, to avoid the compulsion to keep thoughts, which are dynamic, open and finalize the thought and get closure on it with the press of a button. Of course, there are many edits made. But the self-therapy is in sometimes slapping my own hand to resist editing a post the following day(s).

Yes, I get the feeling that there are a lot of recovering mild OCD cases out there like me. I think that we’re referred to as control freaks. Some of us are heads of offices and run a tight ship, and keep neat little planners with perfect notes, while others of us are mothers arranging sock drawers, cleaning telephones and keyboards, re-rinsing already double-rinsed loads of laundry, and repeating appointments and instructions over and over…and over again.

Clearly, my son inherited his OCD from me. So where did mine come from? Well, my dad said he had the same problem when he was young and still, to this day, has hints of it. That somehow makes me feel better, to know that it’s not totally in my head. I mean, it IS all in my head — both the neurology of it and the thoughts — but at least a couple of people close to me understand exactly what it’s like. Still, it remains a silent and, I guess, self-inflicted battle.

And I’ll continue watching my little boy closely. He just might need me to make his life a little chaotic sometime soon, like show him how to skip a day of school and go to walk a beach…and realize that he won’t die if all the sand isn’t off his feet as we get back in the car and drive home.

 

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~ by Galvanized on August 5, 2007.