Author Archives: obsessivelyocd

I haven’t made a post on here in a while. Whenever I had the idea of starting this “blog”, I wanted to share my experiences with OCD. Maybe sharing some of what I go through will help me with the pain I feel. Even just a little.

Yesterday was pretty difficult for me with OCD. I have tried so hard to pull my life back together, and when working through so many compulsions. It can be hard. No one understands what a task. No matter how small. Can actually entail for a person with OCD.

I had scheduled to renew my ACLS and BLS certifications for work. (I work as a nurse). And had planned specifically surrounding the date that I would be renewing — knowing that this date would be printed on my card.

Numbers are an interesting obsession. But it’s truly just associations + consequences. Most numbers have an association / (fear) “attached” to them at this point. But the number 6. It is what my mind tells me will keep me “safe”. This paired with emotional contamination is difficult. As it has turned into a very sick, backwards game. Because 6 is “good” or “safe” — I cannot use it at all. Out of fear that if I do, I will risk “contaminating” it.

I don’t know how I managed to do this. Honestly. And I don’t even want to relate it to the stress of my OCD, as it truly was just a mistake. But yesterday (Thursday 19th) – I went to check to see what time my class started. Thinking it was today (Friday 18th). And I realized that I missed it. That it was from 8-12 that morning. I even scheduled my therapy appointment today at 3. Again. Thinking the class was on the 18th.

The sick feeling I felt when I realized I had made this mistake. The absolute worst. Immediately I jumped up, and drove to work to reschedule the renewals. Again, as they expire this month (in like 10 days!) and I missed both of them. (Wow, I hate myself sometimes).

Ok. So here’s where OCD really comes in. Thankfully there is an opening for an ACLS class next week. I can renew my BLS at the same time. BUT. Here’s the catch. It’s on the 24th.

6 is such an obsession for me that it infiltrates (most) of what I do. 24= 2+4= 6. This, thus = “bad” in the eyes of my OCD. An absolute do not use. Do not forward. Etc. And an easy way to become very, very, obsessed.

The only other class is September 5th. That date is good. 9 + 5 = 14 = 5. 5 is “iffy”, as 5 technically is before 6, and because the numbers are “touching”. Again, I risk contaminating 6. And thus, not being “safe”.

I’ve felt sick ever since all of this happened. I slept all day yesterday until 9pm because it just is not right. And I can’t stop obsessing about the fact that, (unless I think of a solution), 24 will be printed on a permanent card that I cannot “correct” for (2!!) years. Although, now that I’m typing this. It will be printed on both. Which, potentially could mean that they “cancel” each other out.

Wtf, OCD.

Anyways. You know that absolutely sick, pressured, weighted feeling of obsession that will NOT go away until you get the compulsions 😘👌🏼 *right* 😘👌🏼

Lol. Yeah.

I have that. X 1000000 right now. And I’m drowning.

My mind is desperate for a solution. Thoughts like:

– Ok, don’t eat on any day with a 2, 4, or a 6 — and you will be able to keep the number “safe”. A “sacrifice” if you will (joking??). I can’t explain how numbers tie into weight. But yeah, they do. Another fave core fear of mine is weight gain. Which somehow (??) i prevent through things like numbers, and crisp edges on boxes, and wearing clothes that are so oversized on me that they are falling off (because if I buy my actual size I’ll become “trapped” (again, .. ?????), and I’ll gain weight? Lol. Whatever.

– Take the courses again. Before the renewal date. On a “good” date. To “correct” it — and have the “safe” or “ok” date printed on the card. Although now I’m having the thought that the new card would trap 24 below it ((6)) and THEN I’d still have this trapped, pressured feeing. And I’d gain weight.

((I just heard a noise. Twice (Fml. I ruined the number 2 and need to hear it again??). And OCD is saying I need to stop writing because this is all becoming contaminated?? / affecting what I say? Anyone else experience that? Interruptions (especially contaminated sounds, encounters, etc — making you feel like it has altered your path entirely?) because technically hearing that sound, yes, just altered the outcome of what I’m writing. Anyone?? No??

– OCD’s next option: “don’t eat for a week post certification to create space and prevent contamination”. Lol. I’m sorry. Who do you think I am?? That one is just rude.

And of course so many others .. but wow, I type a lot. So not adding them now. You get the gist .. just an attempt at seeking control over the fear and most importantly correcting that ever dreaded feeling in my head that has not gone away for years ❤️ x freaking o

Current OCD update: (because no one asked)

– Am surrounded by trash. What’s new. Thought object fusion for the win. Although I threw away 3 bags of trash yesterday. And it only took ~ 15 min (Fml that’s 6), to step correctly and count and not use my left hand and look at all the corners of the rooms correctly. (And, and, and). To get them into the garage. That was an obsession too. 3 bags = 3 sets of 2 handles. Which, *shocker*, = 6. I pushed through though, lol *bowing emoji that doesn’t exist*

– I go to sessions with my mom 1x a week. Which. Is great since I couldn’t go around her at all before. I still struggle to text. If texting my mom — I te x t li k e th i s — because I count the letters in the words. And technically even that I couldn’t send, because te + li + th = (!!!!!) 6

– I work 2 days a week, and allot for adequate time in between shifts to cope / therapy / etc

– Lately have been having a hard time with bedding contamination. This is like my 3rd set of new sheets? Ironically the washer = bad, but only with bedding? And all of my clothes and sheets that are “contaminated” are literally lined up down the hall. Also my suitcase from early July OCD conference is still not unpacked. But I could write an entire post about just that topic and the OCD related to that. So. ??

– There is still a barrier (curtain, but I’m embarrassed to say that because it’s (embarrassing) and I feel like my OCD ruins others lives) in the living room so I can walk in front door, LR, and bedroom. Otherwise I spend all my time (not by choice, I’m trying my best) in my bedroom as I have a very difficult time going around people

– My temporary license plate is expired x 8 months?? Literally got it last Dec. idk I didn’t do the math. But I ~ still ~ haven’t renewed it because of my obsession with numbers, fear of contaminating / ruining my car. You get it

– Hoarding. Enough said

– OCD walk is next month, and working to get everything done for that.

– Applying to grad school (again), as I am hoping to do an online program

Etc, etc, etc, etc

What are my goals:

Goals right now are to get better at throwing items away (such a difficult compulsion for me), to get my license plate on my car, to get everything together for the walk in Sept, to renew my ACLS, BLS, *and* my nursing license. But then they will all be renewed for 2 years. (Great obsessing over 24 again). And to figure out how to cope / work through the fear of people / person that stops me from. Well. Living life.

I have so much I could say on what works for me. And want to leave this on a positive note, that embraces recovery. But I swear I’ve been typing for 25 min. And honestly, I doubt anyone will ever read all the way to the bottom of this (if they do at all).

But this was a fun attempt at depicting even the slightest bit of what 5 min ( 5!!6!!7 ) of OCD is like for me. Next time maybe I’ll explain the fun that is getting in / out of my car correctly 🤩

Ily. And I hope to anyone who is reading this that is suffering from OCD. That you know how strong and loved you are. OCD is so painful, but I know we will overcome these thoughts. And when I fully and genuinely do. I can’t wait to share what works / worked for me 🧡 also. Go get your pumpkin iced coffee!! And throw away your cup blissfully, and easily for me. It’s officially time again 🎃

– Mackenzie

Frozen Waffles

She hears the water of the shower head, as it slowly begins to pour. Her time outside these walls is limited. But she must leave now. And of that – she is sure.

Footsteps – to the kitchen.

Her disorder, it surely is at unease.

A task like this takes courage.

A task like this – makes her freeze.

One hand on the refrigerator. The other on the door. She mustn’t make a mistake now. Her mind – will surely roar.

Left to right.

Right to left.

Her fingertips just so.

She grabs the frozen waffles.

As soon – she will have to go.

Reaching for the toaster.

Footsteps in the distance.

Her mind it screams for her to run now.

It does so, with such persistence.

Why?! She screams. Disheartened. (Of course, beneath her breath).

As to speak would be a sin of sorts. To speak, would mean she “failed the test”.

Running to her bedroom.

Tears within her eyes.

She throws the waffles at her bedroom door. As there is nothing more she has despised.

All she wants is freedom.

To live the life she once knew.

But a life beyond her bedroom?

It almost seems untrue.

I’m not who I used to be.

– Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

It will do that.

I’m not who I used to be.

Anxiety. Depression. Mental illness?

They will do that.

I’m not who I used to be.

Isolation and pain. Nights spent crying, helplessly asking why? Feeling hopeless. Like a prisoner – held captive by my own mind.

Now you know – it will do that.

And while I may never be . .

. . Quite who I used to be.

I am stronger. More grateful, even.

As Suffering ? This kind of suffering?

It will do that.

I may never be who I used to be.

But I am wiser. More understanding. And compassionate for myself and my flaws.

Therapy, will do that.

I am patient. More empathetic. And more appreciative. The smaller things? Well now, they seem even more worthwhile.

As losing everything. Feeling lost. Tirelessly fighting to find yourself?

It will do that.

Mental illness. It will change you. And the truth is, you may never feel quite the same.

You may feel less worthy. Like you have nothing left to offer. But please, I ask you to recognize – that this? It is just untrue.

You are still – you.

But you?

You . . are a survivor now.

. . Wiser now.

As determination.

Self compassion.

And a will like none other.

I guess you could say –

Will do that.

Imagine.

Fear of everything you see.

Painful avoidance and insatiable rituals.

Counting.

Everything.

Absolutely everything, that you see.

Terrifying thoughts.

Thoughts that defy your values.

That you feel responsible to prove as false.

A mind insistent – that just

One.

More.

Compulsion.

Will provide you, with the peace you seek.

And then –

Finally.

Finally finding that peace – after sometimes excruciating hours, days, even weeks – of attempting to get your compulsions “right”.

Hours locked away in bathrooms. With hands so raw, to prove it. Crying, as you lay prisoner to the rituals that know no mistake.

Hours of driving – with what feels like an inability to stop. Nearly running out of gas. Begging. Pleading – to be able to stop.

Counting, and blinking, and repeating – just “once more”.

Analyzing, and checking.

Isolating.

Ritualizing.

All for that “peace” to be taken, just as quickly as it arrived.

A never ending cycle of pain and avoidance.

All in an attempt to prove – that this time, you have finally done enough.

That this time – you are worthy in the eyes of your OCD.

Cracked hands – raw, and bleeding.

Unsettling thoughts – and an even more unsettled mind.

Repetition. Phrases.

So very much that goes unseen.

Now, that.

That is OCD.

An indescribably painful disorder.

Far worse, and much less desirable than the favorable trait it is depicted to be.

A demand for perfection –

That will never be met.

And the mind –

Of a person.

Just begging to be free.

Her.

The girl I know so well.

She stares at me. Looking back.

She thinks this game is swell.

The game of compulsions. Of living a lie.

Trapped at my own free will.

She holds me down, close to the ground. Beneath my window sill.

Her. Or should I say, “she”.

“She” started off kind.

The very best of friends.

Do this.

Do that.

Reciprocate that.

And all would be just well.

Soon enough.

She became quite rough.

Her rules, oh how they hurt me.

Don’t Look

Don’t hear.

Don’t walk.

And surely don’t talk.

That is,

Or you’ll

Desert me.

Her . .

My friend

She calls

I can hear her in the distance

Please don’t leave me!

She yells

It’s as if you were gone

In an instance

Her voice

It reminds me

Of a girl I once knew

Was it me?

That I heard

Was it her?

That I knew

She calmly walked toward me

Her presence

It shook me

As her voice?

It was mine

And my voice?

It mistook me

Please!

Come back!

The voice

Growing stronger

You need me

I need you

But she couldn’t be wronger

I was free

And she knew it

Is this why she came by?

It’s as if

I was destined

To be drawn by her lies

The lie that tells me I need her

The compulsions

And more

That door

It is closed now

And of that

I am sure

My mind.

It collapses.

In the most wonderful gaze.

“So this, is what it feels like”?

To be free of the haze.

The haze of the thoughts –

That are now oh, so distant.

It’s as if –

They came and went.

Almost,

In an instant.

The counting?

It is slower.

My mind – it’s at ease.

“Is this what it feels like”?

A mind that does not appease?

To my every thought.

And my every worry.

Look!

We are free now.

Truly, you must hurry!

My feet – they are stepping.

In the most delightful of ways.

I am simply walking – because I want to.

Not just to satisfy the days . .

The days before now –

How they were spent running.

From my every fear.

From my worries.

The beliefs of my mind?

They surely, were stunning.

I wake in the morning.

And my feet – touch the ground.

But, my mind?

It is clear now.

And that?

It is surely profound.

To walk with the world.

Without the handcuffs, that are rules.

To look – all around me.

Without fearing the tools.

The tools of my mind –

That were only meant to hurt me.

I can hear them in the distance.

But,

It’s as if –

They have finally chosen to desert me.

I question – to run backwards.

To find them once more.

But I know,

I am free now.

And of that?

I have never been more sure.

My OCD –

It screams.

As the medication; it enters my body.

How dare you desert me?

My disorder – it shrieks.

Don’t you remember?

I made you somebody.

I was there for you –

In the darkest of times.

It was me – that was by your side.

It was I that kept you safe.

I was there for you.

And I taught you things.

Me and you . .

. . You and I.

And with time, these things?

You mastered them.

Oh, how proud I was to be your guide.

This medication?

It will likely take me away from you.

Do you really think that is wise?

You, without me?

You . . without I?

Think of all of the time that we have spent together.

. . I thought we made a pact.

We have counted . .

And driven . .

We performed, the most delightful of acts.

How dare you abandon me?!

The voice – growing louder.

Surely, you need me.

And yet,

You couldn’t seem prouder.

The voice, now?

It is nearly too much to bear.

How dare you abandon me?

Is this how you show me you care?

And so,

My mind screaming.

The thoughts, in a persistent despair.

I swallow this pill.

The pain – almost too much to bare.

This?

It is my life now.

And my friend?

They must go.

Despite their beliefs –

This? It is just not their show.

Goodbye, I say . .

One very last time.

It was fun while it lasted, but my friend?

They must know.

That I – I cannot live

As a prisoner in their most elaborate show.

My OCD? My friend?

I was convinced they were protecting me.

. . But that friend?

I know now, it is time that they go.

The voice that lives within me – It is no longer growing stronger.

I needed my OCD. But, I do not any longer.

Seconds, into minutes. Minutes, into hours.

My friend, they are gone now.

And I am not sure how, I will get by.

Their voice? It is distant;

As I say one last final goodbye.

I will talk to you soon, dear friend.

Please, do not forget me.

It is just, that I know now.

You, do not actually protect me.

You were my greatest companion.

My moral demise.

But, it can no longer be . .

Me and you . .

. . You, and I.

She stares out of her bedroom window.

Tears.

They run, down her face.

She watches.

As the world outside.

It continues on.

She wonders.

If she were to scream?

Would it even be heard?

She asks.

“Can anyone even see me?”

As she, she is simply a girl ..

A girl,

Overcome by OCD.

Her soul, it screams.

Begging.

Pleading.

Yearning.

If only, to be set free.

In her anguish, she looks to her disorder.

“Why have you locked me in here?”

“Won’t you just let me go?”

She begs.

Please, OCD?

The ground however,

It has become like cement.

Her mind –

It holds her hostage.

And she?

She is simply –

Unable to be set free.

And so,

In her desperation.

She sinks.

Further.

Into the darkness.

Into her darkness of her disorder.

She watches, fearfully.

Isolated. Afraid.

With tears in her eyes,

She thinks of the girl she once was.

And in that moment,

She realizes.

How much she has lost.

How much she has lost, due to OCD.

In her desperation.

She cries out.

“Don’t you remember?”

“Please, tell me you remember?”

This girl in here ..

She ..

She is just not me.

And so,

The tears, they fall.

Her heart, it breaks.

As she remains trapped by her disorder.

The disorder that tells her – that life?

Beyond these walls?

It simply –

Cannot be.

The disorder –

That she regretfully calls,

“OCD”.

From behind her bedroom window.

The girl that I was?

Before OCD?

Oh, how I remember her so vividly.

It’s been so long since we’ve talked. I sometimes wonder, if she is even still around.

I can remember it all.

The way her eyes lit up, at the sight of even the smallest of things.

The way she sang to every song on the radio. The way she danced. Laughed.

Oh, how she laughed.

I remember it all.

She can’t really do those things anymore.

And if she can, she sure doesn’t show it.

I wonder what it will take.

For that girl. The girl I once was. To come back around.

Oh, how I miss her. I think about her everyday.

Sometimes,

I wonder, if she thinks about me too.

Or is she truly, that far gone.

You see?

OCD, it took all of those things, and ran. The things that made her, her. Those are all memories of the past now.

She can no longer sing in the car. The words. They are all too triggering.

She drives. In silence. A prisoner to the compulsions her mind tells her she has to perform.

Her smile?

It took that too.

She doesn’t really dance anymore. Or see her friends, really. She remembers the nights spent doing things that she loved. She thinks of them fondly.

But now?

She spends her nights alone.

Her friends? They reach out to her. Message after message. And yet, she cannot even read them. The words. The possibilities. They are all too much to bear.

You see? That girl?

She doesn’t come around much anymore.

I look around, everywhere, for reminders of her.

I simply, want to tell her that I miss her, so.

But the reminders? They are growing slim.

Harder to find. Few and far between.

The memory of her? It echoes.

All around me.

Old photographs – as reminders.

Reminders, of a time no more.

With the only reminders I see now –

Fading.

Her disorder.

A mere replacement.

For the girl she was ..

.. Before.