What It Feels Like To Be Obsessive Compulsive
This article is a shortened excerpt from the book “Tiger by the Tail” available at http://Lulu.com
Tiger by the Tail is the story of my personal recovery from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. This is not a scholarly work; it is a memoir. I have no credentials as a health care professional, nor am I a layperson who has done exhaustive research.
So much for what I am not—what I am, is a survivor of OCD—who has recovered. I wrote this book for others who would also be survivors and who would find the tools that they need to do so. It is also for those who love, wish to help, or live with someone who is afflicted with this disorder.
The following is a partial list of activities in which I HAD to engage while in the trance of this disease. There was nothing optional about them.
1. I had to stare at each and every single electrical outlet, extension cord, and so on, that was in the house before leaving to make sure is was properly pushed in so that no metal showed. I was afraid it would catch fire because the metal had electricity in it and might be touched by a sheet, or chair cushion or even some floating dust bunny. After staring, while holding my breath so that no movement caused me to see something wrong, I would usually have to push on it anyway. After pushing, I had changed the setup and had to start all over staring. This would take a great deal of time. I came to dread leaving the house and never wanted to plug anything in. Once I touched an outlet, even if I was not leaving, I would have to stare at that outlet for a while to be sure it was safe.
2. I had to sniff each gas jet many times to make sure it was off. Each knob on the stove had to be turned just right to “off.” I might check this many times, often in sets of 16 or more, before leaving.
3. No lights could be left on in the house when no one was home. What if they caused a fire somehow?
4. All devices or appliances requiring electrical power had to be turned off unless they were on a relatively fireproof surface, except for the alarm clock and that was still done with concern.
5. I would have to check all the faucets many times to be sure that they were not running. Just looking at them did not suffice. I had to put my hand under each faucet in silence and stare at the tip of the faucet. I didn’t trust my eyes and ears combined without the additional feedback from my hands. This would still not be enough and I would often run in from the door, sometimes after finally getting it locked to my satisfaction, to check to see if they were really off. While there, I would usually check the gas and stove knobs again.
6. Counting was done in groups of eight. While checking the gas or the faucet I would usually count the seconds by eights.
7. Bar soap had to be rolled around in my hand in groups of eight. I had to rinse it properly. It had to be rolled out of my hand on the correct count, into the soap dish, in exactly the “right” position. It had to have whatever side I decided was the top, on top. If anything in this process was less than perfect, I had to do it again. If I lost count, I had to do it again as well.
8. I would not step on a crack in the sidewalk. More than once, I was almost injured by leaping at the last minute to avoid one. This has become a clich
