[Imaginist]

I was hesitant about sharing my story online. Hopefully, this can help someone struggling too. After writing this my compulsions and obsessions have been very agitated. I plan on writing a part two about my disorder as a teenager and young adult.

At three years old, I was diagnosed with a severe obsessive-compulsive disorder. My obsessive-compulsive rituals consisted of something as simple as placing a glass of water on a table. If the glass did not symmetrically align with the design of the table, the off-balanced appearance would induce an anxious fixation to readjust it until it was perfect. I would place it on the table, count to three, lift it off the table, count to three and repeat the entire process three times. If I had somehow messed up this ritual by miscounting or misplacing the glass, I’d restart the process all over again. This procedure could last up to an hour.

Obsessions are not rational. There was no logical reason for placing the glass in such a way or counting with intervals of three. As a young child, it was very hard to process. I wanted to stop this behavior and I was aware it wasn’t normal. The anxiety that caused me to act on my compulsions was extreme. My brain reacted as if I was in a life or death situation. It treated my compulsions as necessities that needed to be dealt with. Due to this unconscious thought process, my brain had induced an anxiety as an attempt an to save my life. If I tried to walk away from an unfinished ritual I’d be unable to think about anything else. My thoughts would continuously cycle. I need to fix it, I need to fix it, I need to fix it, It has to be fixed. The anxiety would be so bad I wouldn’t be able to talk to others. My obsessions and compulsions manifested by themselves. I never consciously created them. My mind was holding me hostage and I had no control over it. A variety of rituals happened while taking showers, getting dressed, washing my hands, doing homework, placing and picking up everyday objects and so much more. Altogether these rituals would take up several hours if not most of my day, every day.

The hardest and most damaging issue I had was not being able to be touched by my mother or sister. If they somehow touched me, my mind would react as if acid was on my skin. I had to cleanse this area and I would do this by pouring steaming hot water on the area. The water was always agonizingly painful, but it could not compare to the pain and anxiety that drove me to burn myself. Cleansing myself was a ritual that lasted hours and sometimes entire nights. If there wasn’t a bathroom, I’d scratch my skin until it bled.

I couldn't wear any restricting or bulky seams on clothes. My hypersensitivity was a result of having severe OCD. My mind would obsess about any cause of light discomfort, like a tag on the inside of your shirt. I only owned three to four outfits I could wear. They were identical because if my parents found something I liked they would buy me a few. Wearing the same clothes every day didn’t help my social life as a child. My classmates thought it was very odd which resulted in exclusion from playing with other children and teasing. Although I had a few close friends who didn’t mind my eccentricity, the alienation from my classmates caused me to become very depressed. The scariest thing was, I was a normal child. My OCD happened only to my family. I am unsure why but they triggered my obsessive-compulsions. No one else could see it. I was ashamed of my behaviors and always concealed my disorder to teachers, classmates, and strangers.

I could not wear a seatbelt because it felt too restricting, and I couldn’t even sit in a car seat. I’d crouch on the seat and sometimes get so distressed I’d open the car door while my mom was driving and contemplated jumping out. Extreme insomnia occurred because I was petrified of monsters, which was a result of OCD because it was an obsession. I lived with my floor always covered in toys and knickknacks. If my mom tried tidying up my room I’d feel unbearable anxiety that would not go away. Having someone move my items around caused me to feel everything was out of order. I felt like I had no control over my belongings. I didn’t know what needed to be rearranged, with my OCD it would’ve taken me a day to fix everything. This stress caused me to throw everything on the floor. It looked like a hoarder’s room. I was cut by walking over clutter. I was 100% incapacitated. I could not even make it to school on time because getting dressed in the morning took hours and I eventually just did not go to school. I had trouble eating because I thought insects were in my food. I would get so exhausted I would break down and cry while doing rituals. I was absolutely miserable. I got to a point where I just curled up in a ball and laid on the floor for hours.

When reflecting on how I survived living this way as a child, I believe the only reason I was able was because I didn’t know anything else. This lifestyle was normal to me ever since I could remember. This happened from three years old to fourth grade. During the time I was in extensive therapy. My mom spent so much time taking to me to doctors and therapy every week. There is no cure for obsessive-compulsive disorder. People have to want to get help and I was too young to comprehend how serious my situation was. Throughout my childhood, I went in and out of children’s psychiatric hospitals. Eventually, I was admitted to a long-term program at Bradley hospital called the craft unit, which was my saving grace. I was surrounded by children that also suffered from mental illnesses. There were eighteen boys and two girls, ages from fours years old to thirteen. The children who lived there had a variety of mental illnesses. One boy named Josh was the leader of the boys. He was oldest thirteen years old. Josh was tall, boney, had long brown hair and ghostly pale skin. While I don’t remember his mental illness, out of all the kids, he was the most aggressive and manipulative. He’d make jokes at the expense of others. When another boy upset him, he’d be fast to hit them. Josh was as warm as he could be to me and like him, the other children liked me too. They always made a big deal out of me by inviting me to play with them and asking me to spend time with them. I considered these children my brothers and sister. We’d eat, watch movies, play games, swim, fight, be upset and happy together. The peculiar behaviors I had were not seen as weird or shameful. They unconditionally accepted me. I have wonderful memories and was surrounded by many people that cared deeply for all of us. I lived there for a year and when I came out my OCD got unimaginably better. I was able to function and it wasn’t any therapy that did this it was just removing myself from the environment that triggered me intensely. I was able to go back and function. I still had OCD but I was old enough to understand the cycle and break it.

[Skeezyks]

Thanks for sharing this. One thing in particular struck me as I read what you wrote. You said your lifestyle was normal for you because you didn't know anything else.

One of the issues I grew up with, many years ago, was gender identity dysphoria. (This was way back in the 1950's & 60's.) My GID caused me to do all sorts of strange things to myself in secret over the years. (And over the years, I became quite good at secrets.)

Anyway... somehow it never occurred to me, that I can recall, that what I was doing was weird or that it suggested I needed help. (Not that there would have been any back then anyway.) But I think it was because it all started so early in my life that it seemed normal for me. I'd never known anything else. I'm glad you found a place where you fit in. And that you were able to find your way back & function.