Where I am in CrazyLand

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

By Mayo Clinic staff on www.mayoclinic.com 

Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is an anxiety disorder characterized by unreasonable thoughts and fears (obsessions) that lead you to do repetitive behaviors (compulsions). With obsessive-compulsive disorder, you may realize that your obsessions aren't reasonable, and you may try to ignore them or stop them. But that only increases your distress and anxiety. Ultimately, you feel driven to perform compulsive acts in an effort to ease your stressful feelings.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder often centers around themes, such as a fear of getting contaminated by germs. To ease your contamination fears, you may compulsively wash your hands until they're sore and chapped. Despite your efforts, thoughts of obsessive-compulsive behavior keep coming back. This leads to more ritualistic behavior — and a vicious cycle that's characteristic of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Emetaphobia
From Wikipedia

(from the Greek εμετός, to vomit, and φόβος (phóbos), meaning "fear") is an intense, irrational fear or anxietypertaining to vomiting. This specific phobia can also include subcategories of what causes the anxiety, including a fear of vomiting in public, a fear of seeing vomit, a fear of watching the action of vomiting or fear of being nauseated.^[1] Emetophobia is clinically considered an “elusive predicament” because limited research has been done pertaining to it.^[2] The fear of vomiting receives little attention compared with other irrational fears, yet it is the fifth most common phobia.
According to experts, emetophobia can be triggered by a single traumatic event, such as a long bout of stomach flu, accidentally vomiting in public, or having to witness someone else vomit. This fear can be triggered at any time and at any age and is not specific to a gender or demographic. Interestingly, most people with emetophobia rarely, if ever, vomit. Some sufferers report that they have not thrown up since childhood, yet they constantly worry that it might happen

I have both of these afflictions, a toddler with the stomach flu, and the sole responsibility of getting a kindergartner to and from school. The vomiting in the car may be my brain's final undoing.

I'm dying. Crazy hurts.

Oh Starbucks, you are my little gentleman...

...I will take you to foggy London town because you are my gentleman.

Teh Barfs. I've had enough. There has been so much barfing in this house, I stopped caring LONG ago when the dogs got to it first. Whatever. Lick it up. See if I care seeing how I've only slept like 15 damn minutes. Zofia was a boogerbarf fountain yesterday then Athena joined her around midnight. When Athena says "NO SCHOOL!" I know shit got real. Especially since she was so excited about the food drive she participated in to help people in our community AND to earn the ability to wear jeans to school for the day.

Even with all the OCD Terror Threat Level: RED barfing happening, I still got my contribution to the school bake sales, visited Athena at school, and made it to the polls. I'm beginning to feel like this disease isn't bigger than me anymore. I never thought this would happen. I should send my psychiatrist flowers.

Today I'm moving forward and it actually has nothing to do with Obama.

Mission 1: Accomplished

That right there, friends, is an empty inbox.

O.C.D. and P.T.S.D. - Who's down with O.P.P?

Therapy yesterday has left my head swimming, but I'm going to try to put a couple thoughts together and keep this journey documented for myself.

We already knew that I have OCD, but the new psychiatrist confirmed it and also threw in a side of PTSD. This would be the reason why I NEVER calm down; why I'm on high alert 24 hours a day. I'm not going to dwell. I'm finished with dwelling. This psychiatrist that I met yesterday really clicked with me and it is just time to begin moving forward. We will put together an action plan in a couple weeks, but she has already given me a few assignments.

1. Delete emails. I have been hoarding child development emails since Athena was born. I've not been able to delete them as I'm afraid that if I do something awful will befall the ladies. There's a tiny rational area of my brain that know that this is typical OCD "Magical Thinking," but I just couldn't make myself do it. She wanted me to go home and get them all deleted. I WILL do it today.

2. Attend family Thanksgiving celebrations. I'm not allowed to duck out of anything with my immediate family for the coming holidays. I must allow my children to see and play with their cousin, GERMS BE DAMNED! Who's got a Xanax?

So here I am. The cliche first day of the rest of my life, right? Let's go delete some emails.

Deep Breaths, now. Deep Breaths.

Today starts the journey of treating my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I'm so nervous I can barely put two sentences together, my hands are shaking, and my teeth are even chattering.

I don't do well for multiple hours away from my kids.

I know I'm about to start on some major behavior modification and putting myself in panic-inducing situations.

Most of all, I'm scared this isn't going to work.

Here we go...

Oh my gosh I did it! I wrote my story.

Please. Read it. Understand me.

I put my 9/11 story on the other blog where it belongs. Oopsie daisy. If you want to read it, it's here.

I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, of course I'm superstitious.

Blogger was down so I wasn't really planning on writing a post. Then I started seeing all these fun facts about Friday the 13th, which it is and I'm afraid of it, so I'm going to organize them into one helpful post.

First of all, I'm convinced that it was my obsessive compulsive ancestors that started most of these things. Fears of certain dates, thinking random objects or animals have super evil powers, religious rituals, well they all smack of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. So today I salute you my OCD kin. Happy Friday the 13th. I won't be leaving my house.

Friday is an unlucky day and 13 is an unlucky number, put them both together and you have DOOM!

Wikipedia says:

Friday the 13th occurs when the thirteenth day of a month falls on a Friday, which superstition holds to be a day of bad luck. In the Gregorian calendar, this day occurs at least once, but at most three times a year. Any month's 13th day will fall on a Friday if the month starts on a Sunday.

In numerology, the number twelve is considered the number of completeness, as reflected in the twelve months of the year, twelve hours of the clock, twelve tribes of Israel, twelve Apostles of Jesus, twelve gods of Olympus, etc., whereas the number thirteen was considered irregular, transgressing this completeness. There is also a superstition, thought by some to derive from the Last Supper or a Norse myth, that having thirteen people seated at a table will result in the death of one of the diners.
Famous people born on Friday the 13th include Samuel Beckett (13 April 1906), Margaret Thatcher (13 October 1923), Fidel Castro (13 August 1926) and Steve Buscemi (13 December 1957).

Tupac Shakur Died on Friday, September 13, 1996

Many hospitals have no room 13, while airports don't have a Gate 13.

According to Smithsonian Magazine The fear of Friday the 13th costs American a billion dollars per year in absenteeism, train and plane cancellations, and reduced commerce on the 13th of the month. (OCD employees are notoriously unreliable. Just ask my old bosses.)



Have fun, kids.

Where I am

This is my rope:

Something must be done. I'm drowning in my Obsessive Compulsive, anxiety-ridden brain. This can't be healthy for me or anyone associated with me on a daily basis. I need help.

The Home Stretch - OCD Edition

I've been kind of hiding my OCD for many years now. I've never told everything to any family member, doctor, or psychologist. Recently I found that confession made me feel a little bit lighter, so now that I'm in the home stretch leading up to full treatment, I'm going to let some stuff leak.

Any given day:
I have kids and dogs, and with kids and dogs comes poop. Inevitably someone gets poop on the floor, foot, hand, clothes, whatever. When this happens, you wash up and move one... unless you're me. Here's how this may break down:
Poop appears on my hand after toddler/Pull-Up training pants wrestling match.
Wipe poop off with baby wipe.
Wash hands with super concentrated dish soap.
Wash hands with antibacterial soap and scalding water.
Spray hands with Burt's Bees hand sanitizer.
Decide hippie spray is too weak and douse hands in Purell.
Use scrub brush, antibacterial soap, and scalding water.
Spot bleach spray on counter and commence spraying hands.
Rinse with scalding water.
Spray bleach, scrub with scrub brush, rinse with scalding water.
Look at hands for next 2 hours.
Repeat tomorrow.

My new mission is to be more open with people about my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder so I might have some better understanding in this last stretch of being under-treated. It's a slow go and a work in progress. Bear with me, friends and family. I don't not go to events, call, or let you see my kids because I'm a jerk, uncaring, or have something better to do. I physically can't. I've been having an extra rough go at the OCD recently. Winter is my purgatory. The germs, the cold, the endless darkness; it's almost too much for me. Come February I'm a shaky, twitchy hermit.

It's March.

Sigh.

Spring is almost here, and with glorious Spring comes sunlight, green, and the ability to go outside. Spring also brings Zofia's first birthday when she can begin to drink maybe some cow's milk or goat's milk and not nurse quite as often. This will allow me to treat my OCD more fully and join the rest of the world again. If I have to take a Xanax to make it to a family function and thus have to pump and dump my milk for 48 hours, I'll be able to. I'll be happier, my husband will be happier, and my kids will finally get to be kids.

Let the countdown begin.