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.
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.
