How OCD Looks on Me

My journey with this mental health disorder starts way back, informing some of my earliest memories. I was an excited and hyper kid in a constant state of awe. But matching my wide-eyed adventurous spirit was an inner turmoil comprising chronic fear and fret and worry.

Constantly afraid my world would implode, my fear manifested itself into compulsory bodily ticks early on. It was all heightened by my move to a new state, going from homeschool to public, and experiencing unkind peers who were all older than me (I went to school early). I also contracted strep throat, and research suggests a link between OCD and strep infections. Some, none, or all of these factors may have contributed to this condition.

I would observe facial expressions or movement from random sources, and for whatever reason my brain would pick one and exaggerate it: I’d add a new tick to my compulsive toolbox.

For instance, I remember watching my dad work in the garage, sawing wood for a project and lifting heavy tools to fix up the house. I observed how his face looked when he lifted heavy objects: a typical expression to display strain from energy exertion. I’d found my newest tick.

Soon after, I wore that expression on my face, except it’d show up when I was concentrating or excited or nervous (which was often). My teeth clenched, the corners of my mouth far-reaching on both sides, the tendons in my neck raised and dramatic. Imagine a 6-year-old coloring in class or sitting on the carpet for a school lesson with that intense expression — easy target for bullying.

My second grade classmates would ask me what was wrong with my face. I’d plead ignorance (because I truly didn’t know when I was doing it). I don’t know what you’re talking about. At first I was disillusioned and truly unaware. Then came the shame when I realized I made funny faces all the time. I remember I’d have this tick where I’d mumble a sort of prayer, clench my jaw, and have to look to the side. I was relentlessly made fun of that; people didn’t know I couldn’t help it. For me, it was normal because it was completely involuntary. It was at times like these that the OCD label would have been helpful. “Yeah, I have silly quirks sometimes,” I could say. “Here’s why.” While I do believe labels CAN be used in limiting and damaging ways to separate and disclude, I also believe they can serve as a powerful tool to promote connection and understanding.

At any rate, try as I may, I couldn’t hide the inner turmoil that was plastered on my 6-year-old face. And it only got worse as I aged.

Picture this: you’re 7 years old and think you can keep your family safe after an intrusive thought says someone will break into your house tonight unless do the following ritual: run your hand along the wall and touch every tile (and you better make sure you’re counting each one!) or jump back and forth and back and forth on the rocks in your front yard. For how long? For as long as that OCD thought tells you to.

Or you’re 11 years old: extreme fear of germs and getting sick. Wash your hands, wash your hands, wash your hands. Longer, more soap, you touched the faucet, start again. Now you have to touch the faucet more times (don’t you dare stop touching the faucet an odd number of times!) Now compensate for touching that dirty faucet by washing your hands longer, longer. Yes, your hands are cracked and raw and bleeding but if you don’t do this your mom won’t make it back from work or your grandparent’s flight will crash. And it will be all your fault.

And the extreme worry. Pre-cell phone popularity, I had no way to keep in touch with my mom when she was at work all day. I’d run to the window sill, peek through the blinds, and stare. My heart leaped each time I saw headlights: brief relief that she’s home. Unless it wasn’t her. She got in a car crash, I just know it. Why isn’t she home yet? The worry made me sick. I’d try to leave for awhile and distract myself, but I’d soon return to the blinds again and again until she was safely walking through the door. This went on for hours, day after day. I remember a flare of embarrassment when the rest of my family would sit in the living room watching TV and glance at me as I stared outside waiting for my mom to come home. Part of me knew it was ridiculous but the fear of my mom’s safety outweighed the embarrassment, so I continued on.

Now imagine you’re older and the outward symptoms have greatly subsided (not completely, but significantly) and you experience a breakup. You remember it all: the last words spoken. The earliest memories. It’s the very last thing you want to think about and yet the more you fight, the more the painful thoughts intrude and consume your mind. All of it replays in your head like broken film. Round and round and round.

You should have said this better, done this better, better understood him — you should have BEEN BETTER. What is wrong with you? How could you fail a relationship? It’s all your fault.

All your fault.

All your fault.

Shame, guilt, shame, guilt.

(Are you exhausted yet? Welcome to the self-flagellating OCD brain).

You bow to this OCD master and all along think it’s you who’s in control. Ha. As if.

“The reality is, OCD latches onto the things you care about most. You value your life and don’t want to commit suicide, yet you can’t shake the thought of how you’d end it.” — IntrusiveThoughts.org

Maybe that’s why I shrink from dreamy thoughts of the future and I’m sensitive to disillusion. I’m inclined to be a realist because I’ve had to be. Because throughout my whole life, I’ve fought so much absurdity in my mind that I will find myself overcompensating outwardly to regain a semblance of normalcy. I have a mini surge of internal cringe when I hear “manifest” and “what you say will become true” because my brain often involuntarily goes to worst-case-scenario and superstition has been an unwelcome friend. A negative thought plants itself in the forefront of my mind, and then it compounds with more stories and expands. It’s called a thought spiral. And it can get completely out of control.

Finding Hope Threaded in Internal Chaos 

I often think, “Am I sabotaging my life because of intrusive anxiety?” Reason says, “Of course not.” A person can think something, fueled by negativity or anxiety, and then objectively watch the thought pass by. “Okay, you’re there, Thought. I’ll see you out now.” I’m learning to do this, because I do recognize how important our thoughts are. It’s definitely a process. I have to work a little harder than most to separate intrusive thoughts from my own and understand when anxiety is acting as a placeholder for intuition.

I know there’s hope to this all. Sure, there’s no magic cure, but there is healing and restoration. I do believe that. There’s seasons of “better” and there’s times it doesn’t seem to be there at all. I love those times. But I know I can’t fully love myself if I don’t love my brain, so I’ve been training myself to accept OCD and treat it with grace.

What I refuse to do is let it control me. OCD wants control. It wants its carrier to be a controlling person and it wants to control that person. Therefore, people with OCD typically want control because they fear losing control. And with obsessive thoughts and involuntary compulsions, you don’t feel like you’re in control and that’s frightening. And part of that rationale is if you give into the compulsions, you’ll gain control.

Coping Techniques That Work For Me

I’ve noticed that my OCD symptoms flare up when I’m in seasons of heightened stress, so stress management has been key in helping me manage mental wellness overall. As with any type of anxiety disorder, solutions vary on an individual basis. What works for me may have no effect on you, and visa versa. With that said, here are some approaches I take:

Research

Understanding that I’m not alone has been key in limiting my anxiety around the disorder. By reading about different people’s experiences and the various symptoms of OCD, I’m drawn into a sense of belonging. It’s relieving to know that my brain isn’t such an “outsider.” That it too belongs.

Relationships

Find those people who will navigate the wilderness with you. Seek out people who love without conditions, and won’t abandon you when darkness begins to override the light. Tides will rise and subside; that’s inevitable. And this condition thrives on lies that whisper words of unworthiness and inadequacy. Make sure you have those light-bearers who speak truth into your life.

I’ve found that a majority of those people in my life are faith-based. The love of Jesus passes over any “difference” and pulls us into a community founded on selfless love. There are also wonderful people standing by my side who ascribe to completely different beliefs than I. God’s love does not discriminate and will find us — we must remain open to receive it.

Movement Therapy

As of late, one of my favorite ways to get out of my head and into my body is rock climbing. It requires great focus and strategy — and it’s extremely empowering. In fact, I’m more present when I climb than when I’m on a yoga mat. I love yoga and still practice, but right now, this is where it’s at for me. Find that physical activity that works for you.

Nature

Anything that relieves anxiety relieves OCD. I believe being outdoors is unparalleled in its incredible ability to promote clarity and elevate overall mental wellbeing. Stepping away from temporary distractions and into a place of connection with the Creator is so healing. I feel most “me” in those moments. I’m instantly in a place of belonging. It’s beautiful and freeing.

Therapy/Counseling

Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) is a Godsend. While sharing how you feel with friends and family is important, I cannot express strongly enough how crucial it is to get guidance from a TRAINED PROFESSIONAL. Someone who has put in years of psychological studies far outweighs your boyfriend’s opinion or your parent’s perspective. In fact, our close circle largely influences our thoughts—even when they have good intentions—which may not always be helpful. Sometimes it’s actually harmful. This isn’t a contradiction to my above point pertaining to relationships: I think you need both. Relationships act as a means of support and a therapist/counselor offers practical guidance.

So I highly recommend talking with a professional. I recall the day I started opening up to my therapist about OCD a few months ago. Up until that point, I mainly discussed the major anxiety and depression that was overtaking me. That day, I literally told her I wanted to be referred to a counselor who specializes in OCD, because I didn’t think she’d understand. How wrong I was.

Though OCD is not the sole niche of my therapist’s focus, she’s trained to work with clients from all walks of life, who experience a diverse range of mental inflictions. And here’s the thing: OCD is a major contributor to anxiety and depression. It is, afterall, an anxiety disorder.

Now, it may take you time to find a therapist who you’re comfortable with, and it could take some trial and error. That’s okay; this is worth it. Much of the CBT techniques for anxiety directly impact OCD. I’m not sure if I quite made that connection until I expressed the mess of thoughts with my therapist, and how much I was struggling with my mind.

I’ve also found that this video offers some super helpful tips in coping with OCD.

Understanding How OCD Manifests Itself

For those who are curious, I’ve listed of some other OCD symptoms I’ve dealt with in the past or currently experience. The mental exhaustion from these obsessions/compulsions has lead me to places of depression, hopelessness, incessant worry, very low self-esteem, and trouble concentrating. That being said, I’m so grateful to have grown out of much of it, but some do remain or flare up during life’s difficulties. Some may be relatable and others are just plain bizarre; OCD throws out logic and reason and replaces it with fear. Here we go:

• Severe guilt complex: feeling as though everything’s my fault, even when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
• Scrupulosity: religious guilt. Compelled to confess anything and everything. I remember asking Jesus into my heart every single Sunday as a 4 or 5 year old, in case I didn’t do it correctly and would end up in Hell.
• Severe fear of breaking the rules or doing something wrong, and panic over the thought of getting in trouble.
• Excessive drive to know or remember facts that are, in reality, very trivial.
• Major hypochondriac. A headache or swollen lymph node MUST = cancer.
• Extensive rumination on memories, specifically negative memories.
• Superstitious. For example: if I didn’t ask my mom if I was going to be sick that day as she dropped me off at elementary school, she had to say no. Otherwise I would get sick. I’d make up tons of superstitious games in my head.
• If I was cleaning and didn’t clean up every crumb, I’d relate that crumb to a cancer cell. So I HAD to get. every. last. piece. Logic being: if there’s even a small piece of cancer in the body, it can spread and kill. I think this compulsion formed around the time my grandpa was diagnosed with cancer. I HAD to make sure no blemish was left, else a loved one or I would get cancer.
• Hand and feet ticks. Like point my finger in certain directions. If I’m not satisfied with the direction, it twitches until it “feels” right. Almost like it’s a gun and I can’t leave it pointed at someone.
• Feelings of uncomfortable itchiness and being hyper-sensitive to texture. Certain textures can make me feel ill.
• If I brushed against a corner, sometimes I felt uneven and had to brush against it the other way. Or multiple times.
• Must hear my car lock beep X amount of times, else it isn’t locked.
• Check oven, stove, and door locks multiple times before I leave.
• Intrusive thoughts that are unwelcome, leading to new rituals. Thinking I am or could become an awful person.
• Constant counting and adding up random numbers that I see. Preferably land on an even number.
• Strange peculiarities. For instance, if a pen is on the table, it needs to face ink-side down. Or if there’s a knife on the counter and it’s pointing toward someone in the other room, I’d have to shift it so I didn’t point toward anyone.
• Exaggerated expressions, especially when I’m thinking. I call it “Concentration Face.”
• Germaphobe: extreme hand washing.
• Heightened fear of death, disease, etc.
• Always afraid of a burglar; every sound I heard at night…I was sure was an intruder.

And this isn’t an extensive list, exhaustive as it is already.

So to whoever’s reading this: I don’t know what you’ve experienced in your life. I don’t what pains follow you, lurking in the shadows. I don’t know if you’ve ever thought you’re better off gone. But you have to see that you’re not and that the world needs you. The world needs your story and laughter and your presence.

And if you or someone you know is experiencing a decline in mental health, whether it’s depression, anxiety, OCD—whatever it may be—please reach out to someone trustworthy and seek assistance. This journey doesn’t have to be debilitating or shameful. And we were never meant to do it alone.

I’m with you.

Peace and love,

smb