OCD: Wrecked and Relieved

OCD: Naming Your Demons

About 6 weeks ago, my shrink tells me I’m doing great, and seem to have my OCD in-check, so it was time to start going through a workbook she suggested. Today, I finally did the first chapter. Yeah, mainly because I have an appointment with her in the morning. It was really rough actually naming my OCD symptoms and triggers. It is a nightmare. It’s more than a prison; it is a hell as vivid as you would expect straight out of Dante’s Inferno.

Looking back at how my symptoms have changed over the years, I can clearly see huge improvements. I no longer have problems walking ON cracks, tiled floors, or cuts in pavement. I don’t even think about it. And the hand washing is no longer a problem. At least, until it is a problem, anyway. Being organized, tidy, and clean will always haunt me, I fear, but it is better when I’m not overly stressed or over-stimulated. However, I have also noticed, that when I have sufficient “down time,” everything is in check, and I’m symptom free.

What do you hide?


This morning my Mommy Helper arrived promptly at 9. I was able to go through the mail, do the bills, tidy up, plan, go through a few boxes, do some filing, and all guilt-free. Guilt is so huge for me. Guilt is a tremendous fear of mine. As big as confrontation. And that fear is what drives me to work myself to the bone, to push harder (myself and everyone around me), and it is what drives me to a dark place I hide from everyone.

Everyone has that dark side, the one nobody sees, or few would dare tell about. Everyone. What do you hide? I’m afraid of failing – failing to be the perfect mom, the best wife, the best daughter, the best sister, the best friend. I’m afraid I won’t teach my children every single thing they need to know to be happy adults; afraid they will repeat the same mistakes I have made. Afraid the clutter and the mess will overwhelm me, and I’ll never have a place I can be comfortable. That is what drives me. That place I can sit still, and relax. And I guess that fear is what is the root of my OCD. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.

I know my enemy. And I am pissed. I want to throat punch it.


And now . . . I have named it. I know my enemy. And I am pissed. I want to throat punch it. I want to kick it in its baby-maker, and finish with a curb-stomp. I want to destroy it, on the most primal level. I want it in a place it will never haunt me. And, by God, I’m going to find a way. I’ll make a way. I’m angry, now; angry enough to fight.

In everyone’s life, we must also make the choice to walk away, or stand and fight. I’ve always been a fighter, but this time, it’s for me. So, tomorrow, I will let my shrink know that the Klonopin I’ve been popping like candy is not working. The last few months have been hell, and this last weekend was my breaking point, to be honest. I can take no more.  I have pushed myself to my limits, and it’s time I break out the brass knuckles, and whoop this monster’s ass. I’m done. Right now, I push back, determined to beat this demon all the way to the gates of hell.

Speaking of hell . . . yup, it broke loose in my office around 4 PM today. Boo & Diva rushed in, pulling and tugging, bickering and whining, and I pulled out my “ace,” or so I thought.

“Let’s paint the clay art we made last week. It’s all dry now! Yeah!!?”

The response was less than I had anticipated. By. A. Lot. We painted anyway. That was over in like, I don’t know, 8, maybe 9 minutes. As I stood there, looking at my kids, obviously “over” being together for a whopping 30 minutes, it dawned on me: If I can’t be medicated to the point that these two don’t make me feel like I’m completely losing my grip, why the hell can’t there be a medication for them? Like a sleeping pill for kids? Is that wrong? Or perhaps time-out chairs with straps? Oh, and a mute button for heaven’s sake?!?!

When I can just let go for long enough to enjoy the crazy world of childhood . . . that is another world of endless happy that I wish would swallow me whole. That is my goal in life. To get that big happy. Every. Chance. I. Get. And lately, well, that’s just eluded me. After reading the first chapter of the OCD workbook, well, it completely wrecked me to really see this demon that chases me night and day (to actually write it down), but what a terrific relief it was to know I can, and I will beat this. I will tame it. And the abyss that I seem to have spiraled into is simply a tiny mud puddle, that I can easily walk through, and my toes will only be damp for a while. I got this.

This OCD is a monstrous battle. It’s one that can sneak up on us and sucker punch us. It doesn’t fight fair. It’s a coward, and a bully. It’s our own brain fighting against us. But dammit, we get up. We have to.

We have to dig a little deeper, punch a little harder, but that big happy that this world is so full of is worth it.


We have to dig a little deeper, punch a little harder, but that big happy that this world is so full of is worth it. My hope for you is that you keep getting back up, and you keep chasing that big happy.

Peace, ya’ll. #getyourhappy

Recently published OCD blog posts by HotMess

About me

Ever wonder what it’s like to be a southern hot mess? Join me as I slam through life like a bull in a china shop. It’s better if you just go with it.


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July 22, 2017
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Oh, and bacon!
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May 31, 2017
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May 24, 2017
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May 20, 2017
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April 10, 2017
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March 14, 2017
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November 03, 2016

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