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Ocd - Blog Posts
people on tumblr be like “I’m going to create an environment that is so bad for people with OCD”
people who say "i'm a little ocd 🤪" because they straighten their pens are the same ones who demonize people who have violent or sexual intrusive thoughts and think its weird or stupid if you have to flip a switch 7 times before you sit down
nd culture is loving reading but hating physical books. i hate to read actual books cause i can never fully understand or absorb anything without reading the same page like 7 times. that’s why i love audiobooks because for some reason my apd doesn’t work when i’m listening to audiobooks to i actually understand and absorb what’s going on. idk what happened because in like 5th and 6th grade i read like 9 books a month during school but now i can only do audiobooks. whatever, this is an unpaid ad for audiobooks.
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mine are mac and cheese, chicken tenders and chicken alfredo,, drinks are apple juice, sweet tea, or regular blue gatorade :)
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what is a safe food?
a safe food is a food that a person likes, the texture is good, and its safe to eat, and that will not cause a meltdown
i was recently diagnosed with OCD, and we seriously need to change the way we talk about the disorder. the average time between onset of OCD symptoms and beginning to receive treatment is over a decade, and i suspect at least part of the reason why is the way we talk about OCD societally, or rather the way we dont talk about it.
no, OCD isn't the "clean freak" disorder. you dont have to check that your door is locked 17 times in order to have OCD. the actual symptoms of OCD are as varied as any other disorder, but it seems that only the most palatable or easily digestible symptoms get talked about regularly.
no one wants to talk about mental compulsions (ex: ruminating on past and potential future situations with "what ifs"), and how they can be even more severe or disruptive than visible ones.
no one wants to talk about the extremely distressing intrusive thoughts that can happen, let alone the fact that intrusive thoughts dont start and stop with violence. yes, this includes bigotry and pedophilia, and no, people with these thoughts are not bigots or pedophiles. intrusive thoughts play on your fears, not who you actually are.
the reason no one with OCD is talking about their symptoms and experiences is because we're demonized for having them and harassed for expressing them, and that shit is unacceptable. we fucking deserve safe places to discuss our symptoms without fear of it being misconstrued and used against us (or just straight up being verbally assaulted, or worse). thought crime isnt fucking real. your thoughts do not make you a good or bad person, your actions do.
in all seriousness it's very alienating knowing theres Something Wrong With You. like seeing your mental illness come through in your behaviour and thought processes and knowing it's irrational and unhealthy, knowing other people are reading you as weird or stupid, and not being able to do anything about it is such a lonely experience
Greetings bugs and worms!
This comic is a little different than what I usually do but I worked real hard on it—Maybe I'll make more infographic stuff in the future this ended up being fun. Hope you learned something new :)
If you are still curious and want to learn more about OCD, you can visit the International OCD Foundation's website. I also recommend this amazing TED ED video "Starving The Monster", which was my first introduction to the disorder and this video by John Green about his own experience with OCD.
The IOCDF's website can also help you find support groups, therapy, and has lots of online guides and resources as well if you or a loved one is struggling with the disorder. It is very comprehensive!
Reblog to teach your followers about OCD
(But also not reblogging doesn't make you evil, silly goose)
Steve Harrington has OCD. There are days when he can barely hear his own thoughts. Days when he can't focus on anything else but whatever is triggering him. Days when he just wants to crawl out of his own skin.
No one around him gets it. Like, really gets it. He loves having everyone over at his place, loves filling the empty house with joy and laughter he never experienced as a child. But over and over again, he feels like he can't really be present in the moment. Because he gets stuck in a never-ending loop of mental checklists, pinpointing every single item that will need to be cleaned or put back in its place after they leave. Crumbs all over the couch. Henderson touching everything in his general vicinity with greasy, pizza-stained fingers. People walking straight into the house after swimming in the pool. Rug on the bathroom floor always wrinkled and askew. Tiny specs all over the kitchen that only he seems to notice. He knows they're little things. Unimportant, right? A little mess can't hurt you? He knows... He just wishes his brain would get it, too.
And it doesn't just impact him, either. His incessant bitching sets others around him on edge. That's probably the worst part of it all. Nancy used to get so annoyed with him whenever he'd ask her to not sit on his bed in her 'outside clothes'. He's pretty sure Robin hates cooking with him because of all the rules he has in the kitchen, but she usually just sighs and rolls her eyes. Dustin deliberately misunderstands his requests or, better yet, pretends he doesn't hear him at all.
Not Eddie, though. Because Eddie notices. The way Steve seems unfocused at times, like he's somewhere far away. The way his eyes tend to dart around the room. The way his posture changes when someone unknowingly does something that triggers him. He makes little mental notes of all the triggers and makes sure to remember them. So he starts taking off his shoes at the door, placing them on the rack. He cleans up after the kids, quickly wiping the kitchen counter and floor as Steve's busy walking everyone out of the house. He straightens the bathroom rugs. He wipes the floor after taking a shower at Steve's, so that there isn't a single droplet of water to be found anywhere outside the shower cabin. He changes his clothes before lounging around on Steve's bed. It takes Steve some time to notice everything Eddie's been doing to help out with his triggers.
It's a little after midnight, and Steve has finally managed to kick the little dipshits out of the house. He walks back into the kitchen where he is met with the sight of Eddie crouched down, a whisk broom and dustpan in hand. Something clicks then, stopping him in his tracks.
"Wait... How long have you been doing this?"
Eddie freezes then and glances up quickly, looking every bit like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Oh, sorry, it's just- I noticed the stuff on the kitchen floor makes you kinda uncomfortable, so I thought I'd help out a bit," Eddie says softly, like he's scared he's done something wrong. Steve feels something warm spread around in his chest, followed by a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes.
"And the rugs? Was that also you?" Steve's voice is shaking now. But he can no longer prevent it. He's about to have a full-on breakdown in front of Eddie Munson.
Of course, Eddie, the perceptive bastard that he is, has already picked up on what's about to happen. He quickly sets the tools aside and straightens up, taking a few strides towards Steve, ducking his head to catch Steve's downcast gaze. To make sure he's okay.
"Hey, Steve, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have overstepped. I'm so sorry," says Eddie, gently placing his hands on Steve's shoulders to offer a reassuring touch. There are now silent tears rolling down Steve's cheeks, but he brings himself to meet Eddie's gaze nevertheless.
"No, no, Eddie, you didn't. It's just- How did you know?" Steve asks, somewhat hesitantly.
"Because," Eddie moves his hands up to cup Steve's face, looking at Steve like he's trying to see straight into his soul, "because I see you, Steve Harrington."
Look, this is what moral OCD is like for me:
I walk past a piece of paper. I don’t pick it up because I had a long day at work and it’s very cold outside. This then becomes my internal monologue:
I didn’t pick up that piece of paper, I should have. Don’t I care about the environment? It’s not my trash, I shouldn’t have to pick it up. But also that’s how these things happen right? We place the blame on others as our environment degrades. It was just a piece of paper, it’s not like it can do that much damage. But also how do I know: I’m not an environmental expert. Maybe stray paper scraps are killing the frogs. You’re literally killing the frogs. You should look up how many frogs die a year so you know how shitty you are-No stop it.
I care about the environment, and I recycle and I joined green activism movements but is that enough? I could be doing more. I should be doing more. I should donate my entire check to charity. But isn’t it self serving to think that my one check could help that much? Do I really think I’m that important, how self entitled and-no stop it, reset! You are obsessing and if you fall for it, you will not eat dinner. Let it go.
Okay it’s just a piece of paper. It’s okay you skipped it this once: it could have had something dangerous on it. Yeah that makes sense. But also, that means I’m putting my own safety over trying to help the environment, which is very selfish of me. I’m just one shitty person: god how could I be so self absorbed. I should have picked up the piece of paper. I’m so selfish, and shitty and-no, no, stop it! This is not helpful. It’s fine.
It’s been a long day and I’m cold, that’s not a crime- no that’s being selfish again, you’re making excuses. You’re just a lazy piece of shit who doesn’t care about others, and selfish and God the fact you’re thinking this much about one piece of paper shows how selfish you are, you care more about if you’re a good person than anything else, you’re a piece of shit, you’re a piece of shit, YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT.
I get home and open up Tumblr. The first post I see says “if you don’t reblog this post about the environment you’re as complicit as an oil billionaire.” I close my computer and resign myself to looking up the state frog populations until I go to bed.
I don’t eat dinner.
The amount of frogs that die a year is somewhere from 200 million to over 1 billion.