Everything is not Romantic- It’s Obsessive and Compulsive
The first time I had ever considered that I might have OCD was during a mental health evaluation with my old psychiatrist, Dr. Marci. It being an all-encompassing evaluation, she asked if I struggled with any obsessive or compulsive thoughts or behaviors, and suddenly my little quirks weren’t so quirky anymore.
As it followed, my sessions focused hugely on those little quirks, and it morphed from well there is some things I do, and a lot of things I think, to I don’t know, do I want to be medicated for my OCD? Understanding the OCD is the root cause for most of my mental challenges put a lot of things into perspective. All the fears, anxieties, and sadness, can be explained farther than an “imbalance.” I mean, it’s still an imbalance, but at least it isn’t necessarily my fault- it’s Poppy’s.
Poppy is the voice in my head that tells me if I stub my right toe, I need to stub my left toe. Poppy is the voice in my head that tells me if I don’t say a prayer for all the roadkill I see, I’ll never get to heaven. Poppy is the voice that tells me if I repeat the same sentence over and over again while I rock back and forth, the bad thoughts will go away. Poppy is my OCD.
I was on TikTok yesterday, and I saw something that made me realize another quirk of mine is another facet of my OCD: my ARFID. I’ve talked about my food disorder before, and I’ve come to be very vocal about it, but it has taken me this long, somehow, to recognize that Poppy is also the one telling me that if I try something new, I will die. On the flip side, sometimes she tells me to eat things that are inedible, uncooked, or not even food, and sometimes I can’t eat because I don’t trust when Poppy tells me I can or not. I still don’t know how Poppy dysregulates my body temperature, but since the bloodwork came back clean, I have to assume that good-for-nothing control freak has something to do with my hot flashes too.
Before Poppy came to light, I’d done a lot of research to conclude that whatever’s “wrong with me” must be an undiagnosed ASD. It truly made sense, and I could still see it making sense, but OCD presents itself in the same way for me. Compulsions as a remedy to my anxieties is a much better explanation in my case than repetitive self-soothing (so says my psychologist and so says I). It’s more like I’m being forced to think these things and do these things, not so much it’s just who I am. Well, it’s definitely not who I am, but all this to say, my diagnosis was really important to me, because it gave me a reason. I didn’t have to wonder what was wrong with me.
Poppy and I fight a lot. While I’m grateful to know she’s there, there’s not much else to be positive about. Just yesterday, I drove to a church for misa for the first time, but she kept me in my car, scared that something would happen to me in this unfamiliar place, and then she made me turn around and drive home. She keeps me locked inside for days on end; she makes me scared to leave my room. She’s convinced me to drink to excess and say a lot of thoughts on my mind, but keep the most horrible ones to myself.
It can even be disheartening to know that almost everything I am can be acquitted to OCD. I see a lot of OCD content online- jokes, affirmations, facts- and almost always is someone saying something that I do regularly can be seen as a symptom, something I never considered to be one. It makes me wonder if all I am is this unlucky disorder. If any of my behaviors and quirks are just behaviors and quirks, or if every last one is a sign that I’m, well, disordered. Sometimes, in the back of my mind, I wonder if my internet home, this online castle of stories and emotions, my blog is a product of my OCD- the need to get things out of my head so that they don’t get cataloged into my mind as obsessions and intrusive thoughts, and the need to explain everything fully and completely so that nothing stays stuck inside my brain. Nevertheless, this is still my brain baby, and Poppy can take so, so many things from me, but this blog will never be one of them.
𑣲love, Willi
