OCD. I know when I wake up in the morning with the weight of 70 horses that today will be a bad day. You may ask why but OCD is funny little thing. One day less than 48 hours ago I can be standing with a friend bragging about how my OCD is in check and then the next day a child of mine comes home from school and curls up in my lap and sleeps for hour. Wakes up and is completely lethargic and not the talker I am used to.
Panic sets in by the name of O and C and D. For most parents, you can calmly and rationally deal with this. You call your doctor, you schedule an appointment and you move on. Not me. I stay stuck. I begin to question every little symptom and picturing the worst. Given that this OCD bout is about over I will spare you the grim details out of fear of going back there but I assure you it ended as grimly as usually does with OCD.
On the exterior I am that parent above but inside I am completely different. We devise a plan to go to the doctor tomorrow only to realize she should probably be seen tonight. So we head off to our local version of Redi-med. She tests positive for strep. We get antibiotics and take a sigh of relief right? Nope not me. I am the parent that stays up all night trying to shut out the stupid crazy thoughts.I toss and turn, I take her temperature more times than I care to count and I peek in at her just to be sure.
I agree most people in the world probably have some version of OCD. We all have our little quirks that make us different. What sets me or anyone else with OCD part is how we cope with those quirks. My way to deal with it. Obsessive cleaning, obsessive thoughts, compulsions that I believe will alter my world in some way if I don’t do them. Sometimes so natural to me that I can’t even identify them. You know how I know they exist? Because I participate in them and realize that two hours have gone by and I haven’t moved. Something like washing my hands or wiping down a toilet seat.
While I would consider myself a winner in the battle of OCD because this round and most rounds last less than 24 hours and I can talk myself down from them. It still reaps this nasty hangover effect where I walk around once again with that stupid stinking black cloud following me everywhere and I wish I could just be normal. That a round of strep throat, a stomach bug, a cold didn’t set me off into a fit of worry and panic. I am not sure if that day will ever come. But I can still hope.