It's everything I can do not to snap when I hear the phrase "I'm so OCD" fall out of someone's mouth as they fix an out of place hair, tuck in a friend's shirt tag or straighten a rug. I know in the grand scheme of things it's not the worst thing in the world, but I have diagnosed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and when people use it as an adjective it feels like a joke when it's actually a terrifying mental illness.
I wish OCD was the neat freak, neurotic, perfectionist, super power- like illness that people seem to generalize it as, but in reality it's more of a superman's Kryptonite kind of illness. Nothing in my OCD has ever been helpful and has actually been one of the most counterproductive things that I've ever had to deal with.
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The first time my OCD became a problem was when I was sixteen. At the time I had no idea what was happening or if this panic would ever go away. I was watching a documentary about a murderer and found myself starting to feel empathetic towards the person behind bars and I thought "what kind of monster does that make me?" Terrified and playing devil's advocate, I found myself thinking that maybe the murderer had a rough childhood? What if he just needed help? Or worse, what if they were normal until one day they "snapped"? As my mind went through these motions I found myself thinking "what is the difference between me and these labelled monsters? We are all human." Almost instantaneously, to the peak of my irrational thoughts I found myself with a lack of appetite, gasping for air and telling my mother that I should be admitted to an asylum, because there had to be something wrong with me . My mother who was really confused at the time, told me that if I was insane, I probably wouldn't be aware. Though this rationally made sense, there were irrational thoughts invading my brain that I couldn't shake. I was afraid of everyone, everything and even myself.
It was hard for me to talk about it at first because I was afraid of what people would think. I was afraid I'd be locked away if my therapist knew how dark my thoughts were. It wasn't until a year later that I found out my diagnosis which I was shocked by because I wasn't flipping light switches on and off, or obsessively cleaning-- I was avoiding living life to its fullest, too afraid to be around people.
Even though it's been a few years since I've had a panic attack induced by OCD I can remember it clearly and vividly, but I have yet to fully understand it. So please don't throw around OCD like it's a fashion statement.
