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.
