Since I was a kid, I lived with obsessive compulsive disorder. It first manifested as a worrisome obsession with the devil inspired by a TV show, where some young kid told his father that he’d rather work with the devil than work for him, which resulted in his lifelong possession. Not only did I become scared of ever saying this, but I had intrusive thoughts where I thought to myself that if I didn’t do something, then it would somehow mean that I wanted to work for the devil. I didn’t know it at the time, being too young to care too much about the state of my mind, but this kind of magical thinking is a hallmark of obsessive-compulsive disorder.
I’m now fully equipped with an understanding of OCD and it allowed me to see many of the weird thought patterns that arise from it. Shortly after I moved into my first apartment, I grew highly concerned with psychosis. I used to stare at the wall for a few seconds every other minute just to make sure that I wasn’t hallucinating. I would create for myself thoughts which superficially resembled the psychotic, then assumed control over these by bending them to my will simply to demonstrate that I was still in the driver’s seat. I would stay away from surreal media and horror stories because of their association with the illogical and the irrational. It took me some time to realize that this was, again, OCD. When I came to know this, I was able to slowly wither away the thought.
The obsession with psychosis however is one of many obsessions with my health. A good friend of mine once described me as an hypochondriac, and in truth he was spot-on. Most of us anxious-riddled messes obsess to a degree about our health; I am sure the experience of overthinking about chest pain is woefully familiar. The person with obsessive-compulsive disorder, however, goes beyond thinking and invents for itself all manner of behavioural compensation to ease the thought. I researched into home EKG machines just to keep an eye on my cardiac health, but had to settle for a skin oximeter as a “good enough” measure, which did nothing to improve my obsession. Rather, the obsession transformed into further worries as I relied on the machine as an anchor for stability. When the oximeter had a weird reading (as skin oximeters often have them), I grew even more anxious and panicked about the state of my health. It was only when I got rid of the machine altogether that I felt better.
As time goes on, I notice more and more ingrained thought patterns as originating from my OCD. I grasped for close to half a decade with the fear of allergies, even though I’ve been diagnosed with none, except perhaps a very mild intolerance to oatmeal. I thought this fear was rational, but then it pushed me to actively avoid new foods as to prevent an anaphylactic reaction from happening; when I did try new foods, I self-assessed myself for a whole thirty minutes by checking my breathing, my pulse, if I could still swallow… absolutely ridiculous, and yet, I didn’t see anything wrong with it until I reflected on the fear from the perspective of OCD, which was only after I was wary of using a salicylic acid facial toner to clean up my pores because I thought it could trigger some kind of aspirin allergy.
A particularly devastating obsession, still health-wise, is my mood. I cannot allow myself to feel too happy or otherwise too excited because I’m afraid excesses of either would translate to some kind of mood disorder, such as bipolar. At one point, I thought I was cyclothymic because sometimes, I feel happier for a couple days, and sometimes, I feel worse for a couple days. One day, I’d be more productive than usual, usually in regard to writing, and then I’d immediately get anxious at the thought that perhaps my productivity was pathological. I would then look towards to feeling less energetic and being less productive as evidence that indeed, I am not being manic. Since there is no compulsion that can resolve this obsession, the anxiety would linger until I forgot or I felt worse. There is simply no winning with OCD.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder can be considered the diametric opposite of schizophrenia, if you were to grade it on a spectrum, where the centre is neurotypical thought processing. Schizophrenia involves absolute, irrevocable trust in one’s observations and thoughts, with no room left for doubt. This is why they struggle to differentiate fiction from reality, because whatever is thought up is assumed to be true without a process of discernment for truth. OCD, on the other hand, is absolute, irrevocable doubt in one’s observations and thoughts; you will never trust yourself or anything you think. You will pursue means to reassure yourself of the veracity of your observations, which will only ephemerally provide relief as you will quickly doubt even the reassurance. Schizophrenics often believe they are in full control of themselves, whereas people with OCD endlessly worry about loss of control. The only solace here is that with OCD, you can feel a bit of relief knowing that you have some natural protection and distance away from psychosis, even if you do feel crazy at times.
A person who suffers from neither, on the other hand, will have a more balanced view of their own observations, from their knows and their know-nots. They have good trust in what they reliably assess that they know, and otherwise seek reassurance through curiosity for the things which they reliably assess at they do not know. Schizophrenics assume that they know everything, even the things which they’ve never heard of, whereas people with OCD assume that they know nothing, even the things which they are nominally convinced of. A schizophrenic has a distorted perception of reality which they fully trust, whereas a person with OCD has the most accurate view of reality that they refuse to trust; indeed, a person with OCD will be inherently investigative and procedural with their observations, but none of it will ever fully satisfy.
Yet, as I think of this and see how it irritates me, I do not whimper. I find it difficult to even trust my own assessment of my OCD, but I know that I have it, and it is the origin of every thought that disturbs me. I simply have to let the thought pass over me, to look at it from the analytical angle and understand the internal feedback loops which sustains it. I simply have to do a bit of metacognition and say, “I know where you come from and what you are”. It is harmless, even though it colours my emotions, and while it is a thought that I have and that I’ve generated fully, I can still look at myself and think “Why am I even having this thought?”, then push it somewhere else. I am fortunate to say that while it is a bother, it is not a critical bother, and I feel capable of pursuing my life and everything in it despite its pressure. I do not feel that I need treatment for it.