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I feel exactly the same way when people self-diagnose OCD. Just because you want it your way and you want it now doesn't mean that you are tortured by intrusive thoughts and forced to follow rituals and lose sleep because you have to get up and rearrange your refrigerator because your husband didn't put the juice back in alphabetical order. They say, "Oh, I left my lucky pen in the car. There's my OCD again." And everybody laughs and you feel like crawling under the table, because you're the only one who is not laughing. And while you're down there you're counting the floor tiles, the cracks in the floor tiles, and the scuff marks on the floor tiles praying they come out to a multiple of 6.
I am not BP and I'm sorry that you are.
From my heart to yours, L
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