OCD: The Silent Paralysis
I was recently diagnosed with OCD. For those who know me, this is not surprising. I have been called Ren Stevens 2.0, which IYKYK.
Except my OCD is far more than just a type-A personality like keeping a tidy space, general cleanliness and organization, which I absolutely do thoroughly enjoy. Mine is much bigger than that – contamination. It affects my day to day life in a very big way.
I know what you’re thinking – oh, she’s just one of those COVID freaks. In actuality, this started WAY before COVID was even a thing. I wish I could tell you how long – but it feels like it has been manifesting over the course of many years.
Before becoming a mom nearly 7 years ago, the snowball began when I was exposed to a GI virus from a child whose parents did not keep her isolated. That turned into a near week of misery for me, and then subsequently my husband. The lack of consideration is still mind-boggling to me.
Then add having children years later and the responsibility it requires, it was like I made it my self-proclaimed mission to keep them as healthy as possible, to help them (and me) avoid the roller coaster that illness brings, and the only way I could conceivably do that is by isolating us from the germs that people in public possess. I thrusted myself into this cycle of control, and relinquishing or surrendering that control was simply not an option, as it would derail the ship I have worked so hard to keep afloat.
Despite controlling the reins, my illogical thoughts were growing, completely ruling my brain and forcing me to cope and manage it as best as I could – by cleaning my hands incessantly.
There is not a moment that goes by that I’m not haunted by the potential for contamination.
After touching a potentially contaminated surface, my hands or fingers tingle or have a burning sensation. Think: elevator buttons, gas pumps, shaking hands with a stranger, the back of a chair at a restaurant, menus, church pews… The sensation isn’t erased until my hands are clean.
Public places could be completely paralyzing, but I’ve learned management tools along the way: I would get the first appointment at the dentist office on Monday morning, since they were closed for the weekend. Or at a children’s museum, I would identify the days they were closed, and we would be the first people to arrive on that first day back open. Less germs, less exposure, less anxiety, less OCD management for me.
Birthday parties, festivals and family reunions are living nightmares because, let’s be real, parents bring their sick kids literally everywhere with no consideration for others. The anxiety and the thought of potential germ exposure overtakes my entire body, causing my mood to plummet, my cortisol to dump and thus beginning the spiral:
Clean hands immediately. Don’t touch this. Can’t play on that playground because the child who just touched that swing could be sick or have a sickness brewing and not be symptomatic yet … the what-ifs never stop.
After a busy day of illogical thoughts and ruminating, I would ask myself, “how do everyday normal people do this? What is it like to have such freedom?” It feels inconceivable to remember what it was like to live a life free from this diagnosis.
Most recently, we reached a breaking point after a family reunion earlier this spring – when being around that many people was sheer terror and painstaking. My children enjoyed the water slide with 100 other children not knowing what germs they carried, touching the contaminated chairs and the tables… my mind. never. rested. Thus, I rode my kid’s and my husband’s coattails until the bitter end.
While apprehensive at first, we decided to move forward with me seeking help of a professional counselor. And it was not an easy move and I had to give up a lot of control thinking I could manage this on my own, but one that reached a point of necessity. Simply put: I was mentally drowning.
This will be a very long journey. It requires lots of patience across the board. My counselor is a delight and is giving me the space to control my steps, allowing my comfortability to grow at my own pace. I do want to get better. I need to be better. I want my children to lead normal lives. I’ve got to be well in order for them to thrive. And that’s ultimately my priority. It should be yours, too.
To answer the burning question I’m sure you’re dying to ask – have my efforts failed or been successful? Much to my dismay, my children have indeed been sick – yet, I do not manage it very well the majority of the time. My husband will tell you: it is like living in a circus until everyone reaches status quo health again. Plot twist: My kids were sick for a week after the aforementioned family reunion – my deepest thanks to the girl who was coughing up a lung and blowing her snotty nose in the water slide.
