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I've had this for 9 years.
Nine years. And it never stops.
Never goes off.
It started as one simple thing. One little thing, and we all thought I'd grow out of it. I was seven, then, so it could have been a 'phase'.
I wish it had been a phase.
I've been in hospital for several months because of it.
It never stops.
Hours spent tapping doors and walls, checking all electronics. It must be in a set pattern and if I miss a step, start again. Someone tried to stop me? Start again. Hours of no sleep. Tears. Furiously scratching at my face WHY WOULDN'T IT STOP.
That was when I was 11 to 14.
2015. 15 years old.
Look under the table 5 times. If I wasn't sure that there was nothing there, start again. Then check the chairs. Be the last one out and look. Make sure nothing's still there. Ask others to be totally sure.
Pick everything up. Everything you see. Litter is gross. My coat was and still is full of it. Crouching in the middle of the street where the cars are to get something I saw. Several minutes on, am I sure I picked it up? Several hours on, am I sure I picked it up? Stop going outside.
Water, I need to drink it. Certain number of glasses, certain numbers of sips each time you tilt the glass up, certain number of tilts, certain glasses. That glass isn't there? Don't drink.
I need the toilet. No, you can't go yet, wait for the hour to change.
Up and down the stairs. Up and down the stairs. Up and down the stairs. Up and down the stairs. Up and down the stairs. Phew. That means that that person over there won't fall down the stairs.
Mum yelling at me. She yells.
Where are my letters? Where are my numbers? Can't look at books, no TV, nothing. Count everything. Cry. Sit and stare at a wall. Wait till the hour changes. Then you can go to the toilet.
Cry. I need help.
They're in my head. They won't leave.
2016. 16 years old.
Hospital.
Get out of hospital months later on.
They're still there.
Irrelevant questions, pointless. All pointless.
Some thoughts are fine. By picking stuff up I help the environment.
But Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is not a trivial adjective.
"Oh, I'm OCD about this." "I'm a little bit OCD."
No, you're not. By putting your things in order, you make your life simple and happy. You grin as you put them in size order, and are happy with it.
I, on the other hand, am not happy with this.
Up down numbers letters leave toilet blink 5 times check tap up down numbers letters leave toilet blink 5 times check tap start again up down numbers letters leave toilet blink 5 times check tap up down numbers letters leave toilet blink 5 times check tap start again up down numbers letters leave toilet blink 5 times check tap up down numbers letters leave toilet blink 5 times check tap start again up down numbers letters leave toilet blink 5 times check tap up down numbers letters leave toilet blink 5 times check tap start again up down numbers letters up down.....
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I read your story, and I'm glad I did. Thank you for sharing it. I never really knew how debilitating having OCD could be. Even though I don't know you, I care and am there for you. I will subscribe so if you want to talk about anything, I'll get your message and respond.
ReplyI am the same age as you and cannot even begin to imagine what you are going through. I don't know you, but I know that there are many people out there who care and are willing to talk with you, people better qualified than I am. Just know that you are loved.
ReplyI'm almost exactly the same as this. I have OCD. I try everything I can make myself happy but nothing satisfies me. I hit myself, scratch myself and bang my head all the time when I get frustrated. Should I tell anyone. My family was able to guess by my actions, my closest friends already know. I'm 14. Should I tell anyone else?
ReplyHi, I'm not the one who posted this, but I read your comment. If you are harming yourself, it would be a good idea to tell someone. Has anyone in your life done anything about what you're going through, or just noticed it? I can help you with what to say and to know who to say it to if you'd like.
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