Living With OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)
When I was eleven or twelve, I started using moisturizer on my hands because I
washed them so much. They would get red and cracked around the knuckles, and
it would hurt to hold a pencil. My mother never said anything about it, and I
wonder now, since we never discussed my peculiarities, if she recognized what was
starting and thought that acceptance was the best way of dealing with it.
I realized something was wrong right after my mother died. Before I went to bed, I
would walk around the house, checking the doors and windows to make sure they
were locked. Sometimes it would take me an hour to feel satisfied that I was safe.
Around and around the house I’d go, jiggling the knobs, and running my hands
along the blinds to convince myself that they were hanging straight enough to cover
any gaps.
There where times when I’d be exhausted during this nightly routine, crying as I
went, unable to understand why I couldn’t just stop. I would even say it out loud:
“Stop,” or “Stop this.” or “For the love of heaven, go to bed.”
After a while, the need to perform this nightly ritual became easier to manage. I’ve
discovered over the years that stress, grief and anger increase the severity of my
symptoms. When I’m looking at a sunny emotional landscape, my symptoms are
just a nuisance. I can even ignore urges without feeling too much discomfort.
The urges never go away completely, though. My husband has changed the knobs
on all of our exterior doors because the internal workings wear out from my jiggling
them. So, I still have my struggles.
I count things, and I worry about water, especially at night. From what I’ve read,
these types of urges are a pretty widespread, and nightly rituals seem to be a
common feature of the illness.
I have been dealing with my OCD without the benefit of drugs or professional
intervention for many years. I won’t go into an explanation of the illness from a
clinical perspective because I’m not qualified to do that. I will say that cultivating
tolerance and compassion for myself has helped me deal with others’
misconceptions and my own feelings of low self-esteem.
On the whole, my life is pretty good. I have unique challenges to deal with,
sometimes on a daily basis, but I am proud of myself for being able to keep the
illness in perspective.
My mother used to say that there is something good in everything. OCD has
forced me to face things squarely, and that has made me stronger. Choosing to
view the illness as a challenge has helped to improve my outlook on life.
~S.A. Holt
When I was eleven or twelve, I started using moisturizer on my hands because I
washed them so much. They would get red and cracked around the knuckles, and
it would hurt to hold a pencil. My mother never said anything about it, and I
wonder now, since we never discussed my peculiarities, if she recognized what was
starting and thought that acceptance was the best way of dealing with it.
I realized something was wrong right after my mother died. Before I went to bed, I
would walk around the house, checking the doors and windows to make sure they
were locked. Sometimes it would take me an hour to feel satisfied that I was safe.
Around and around the house I’d go, jiggling the knobs, and running my hands
along the blinds to convince myself that they were hanging straight enough to cover
any gaps.
There where times when I’d be exhausted during this nightly routine, crying as I
went, unable to understand why I couldn’t just stop. I would even say it out loud:
“Stop,” or “Stop this.” or “For the love of heaven, go to bed.”
After a while, the need to perform this nightly ritual became easier to manage. I’ve
discovered over the years that stress, grief and anger increase the severity of my
symptoms. When I’m looking at a sunny emotional landscape, my symptoms are
just a nuisance. I can even ignore urges without feeling too much discomfort.
The urges never go away completely, though. My husband has changed the knobs
on all of our exterior doors because the internal workings wear out from my jiggling
them. So, I still have my struggles.
I count things, and I worry about water, especially at night. From what I’ve read,
these types of urges are a pretty widespread, and nightly rituals seem to be a
common feature of the illness.
I have been dealing with my OCD without the benefit of drugs or professional
intervention for many years. I won’t go into an explanation of the illness from a
clinical perspective because I’m not qualified to do that. I will say that cultivating
tolerance and compassion for myself has helped me deal with others’
misconceptions and my own feelings of low self-esteem.
On the whole, my life is pretty good. I have unique challenges to deal with,
sometimes on a daily basis, but I am proud of myself for being able to keep the
illness in perspective.
My mother used to say that there is something good in everything. OCD has
forced me to face things squarely, and that has made me stronger. Choosing to
view the illness as a challenge has helped to improve my outlook on life.
~S.A. Holt
Mental Illness
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