Coming soon...
A resource page for those who are interested in learning more about Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Bibliography, links, thoughts and humour.
29 November 2003
It seems to me that OCD is a disease of reversed probability. Whatever I think could possibly happen, even if it's a one in a million chance, that's what is going to happen. The slightest possibility becomes my greatest fear. If it could happen to someone it will happen to me. It's not the 90% of times a bad thing doesn't happen that I'm worried about; it's the 10% chance that it might. Anxiety builds.
Anxiety is a very powerful emotion. It causes me to stay up at night. It drives me (sometimes literally) to do things I don't really need to do. It causes fears to become real and real things to fade to the background. It reverses logical thought. So what I have to learn, learn and practice, practice because it's the right thing to practice, is how to lessen that anxiety in a positive way. Don't count the floorboards; do some jumping jacks. Don't worry about the cats not being on the bed; they take care of themselves for ten hours a day when I'm not home! Yes, anxiety can be a very powerful emotion. I know some is healthy, but how much?
It wasn't the depression that bothered me. It was other people that bothered me. No, it's wasn't the fault of other people; it was me worrying about them all the time. Sometimes I still do. I couldn't deal with people because I couldn't deal with them going through difficult times. I placed myself in their lives, mentally, and tried to think through their problems. I tried to think of ways to keep them safe. No matter that I didn't know these people; that they weren't even friends; that many of them wouldn't even speak to me. No, they needed someone to be there, to save them in their time of need. Never mind that I needed someone to save me. I needed to help myself. My life, a shambles, a complete mess, an emotional wreck with explosive anger and depression when things didn't go the way I thought they should -- all as I worried about people who for the most part didn't give a thought to me. So when I finally told my doctor that I thought I was getting depressed about obsessionality, she gave me a test. Seventy percent. That's the score I got. Seventy percent of the mentioned obsessionalities and some lower, but significant, number on the compulsive rituals. What a nightmare. What a relief. Now I can work on this SOMETHING that's been bothering me for so long.
Again, it's not that I obsess in the classic Hollywood manner. No screeching violins and sharp knives here. In fact I'd rather get my own hand cut as I hand you a tightly gripped knife, handle-first. You pull it out and cut my hand deeply and I immediately apologize to you and run and take care of my own wound. Anything to keep from hurting you. I don't want you to think I'm a bad person. I don't want you to see any evil in me at all. Must please everyone around me. Must be perfect. Can't get anything less than an A on my exams lest I kill someone because I don't know every bit of Anatomy & Physiology. Must try to get every extra-credit point possible. I should know the answer to those questions, too. All of it is important. Thank God for a photographic memory.
But wait, the photographic memory isn't so great after all. Movie images haunt me for weeks and I must learn everything and rehearse everything that bothered me, get it perfect, know the exact sequence of events. Rehearse all of the possibilities. Say it didn't happen exactly the way it was in the movie. Loose ends to fix. Plot holes to close. Images of actual events, real conversations and imagined followups. Never mind that these things either won't happen (in all probability) or are not real. I need to know. I need to see it finished, it must be perfect. But it's never perfect. I dwell on the 10% that others ignore. Statistical improbability? Never, never for this person. It's a reversal of probability...
BRRRING.... [Click]
Hello, you have reached the Mental Health Helpline. Please listen to the following menu of options:
If you are narcissistic, press 1.
If you are depressed, depress 2.
If you are paranoid, press 3 and hold the line. We are tracing your call.
If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 4 repeatedly.
If you have attention deficit disorder...
If you are schizophrenic, press the number the voices tell you.
If you are oppositional-defiant, don't press 5.
If you have attention-deficit disorder... Huh?
If you have multiple personality disorder, press 6. Press 7. Press 6.
If you are catatonic, how did you pick up the phone?
HEY YOU, if you have attention-deficit disorder, press 8.
If you are a fatalist, hang up. Nobody will answer your call anyway.