Obsess/Compulse

I've been having a time lately.

[Note, this is a bit of a personal type post, so if this isn’t why you’re here, feel free to peruse my back catalogue over on Mechanical Pulp. For new subscribers, this sort of thing isn’t my usual, but it happens once in a while. I’ve got some short stories and other stuff to read if you prefer, in the archives, or my books which are linked at the bottom of the post.]

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Yesterday it began before I even got out of bed. The fear. That thing that’s gone amiss, looping over and over in my head.

Wrongness.

Everything.

Cue brain siren noises.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder sucks big time.

And it’s constant.

I haven’t felt “normal” since October. I’ve got no writing done, barely any reading. The depression as I battle this is also kicking my ass.

Last time it was this bad was when I was postpartum with my youngest, over a decade ago now—an event that made my husband and I decide, if it's true that PPD (and it wasn't just PPD but also PPA—depression, anxiety, you get it) gets worse with each baby¹, that we shouldn’t have any more (though often I wish we had, but now there would be a significant age gap between kids, and we’re both pushing 40—I’m glad we had babies in our 20s, boy oh boy. Here’s my subtle nudge to have babies ASAP if you haven’t yet because you aren’t getting any younger, either. But I digress.)

Maybe perimenopause has me going loopy. Who knows? Stress over other crappy events in my life? Whatever the reason is that this major spiral event started, here we are.

I've always been a bit of a “germaphobe” or “hypochondriac” but as I aged out of childhood things got worse, not all at once but little things, slowly accumulating. And then, as I approached adulthood, I started getting Really Weird Thoughts™ that started preventing me from doing Normal Human Activities™ like eating at restaurants, opening doors, touching crosswalk buttons (apparently they don’t do anything anyway), etc. I was really happy when most stores converted their debit machines to use the tap function so I didn’t have to touch any of those… disgusting buttons…

And it isn’t just “door handles are gross, ew.” It’s hard to describe. It’s like… if you have a grenade in your hand, and mentally pull the pin, and you’re holding the grenade thinking it’s going to explode, but you know (you don’t know) you only thought you pulled the pin despite the fear being the same as if you were holding a grenade that was about to explode, but what if you actually pulled the pin and maybe put it back somehow, are you sure, you won’t know until it explodes, it’s going to explode, why are you standing there you better go wash your hands or something… surely that will prevent the grenade from exploding.

The really frustrating part is knowing, being fully aware, that these thoughts that pop in my head and distress me are stupid. I mean, yes, wash your hands before you eat and all that stuff but these thoughts I get go way beyond sane. I’m not going to go into detail, so I’m just going to talk about my more… normalish… troubles navigating this mental illness. You see on the news about how gross shopping carts are and most people go “ew” for a split second and move on. But if you have the type of brain problem that I do, you get paralyzed with anxiety when it comes time to put your kid in the cart² to the point where you can only go grocery shopping with your husband so you can just carry the child the entire time and hubby can grab the items (never the one at the very front, for silly brain reasons. Also, this strat falls apart with two kids, and your toddler will want to touch ALL THE THINGS that make your brain scream. My youngest had a habit of trying to put the dangling shopping cart lock in his mouth.) I was carrying Purell in my purse³ long before covid, when suddenly all the cool kids were doing it. And when it got worse, (pre-therapy,) just seeing a hand sanitizer dispenser in public spiked my anxiety because it was a reminder that everything is disgusting. (See, when you have OCD, and you engage in the compulsion, it only makes everything worse, the slight relief you get from checking the locked door once will eventually lead to checking the locked door 15 times and you will still feel like shit because nothing ever feels right and now you’re circling the block again to check if you locked the door for the 16th time.)

As a side tangent, by the time covid rolled around I had already gone through therapy, and suddenly I’m watching the ENTIRE WORLD engage in activities that my therapist would have scolded me for, it was… fascinating, for lack of a better word. (I actually did better during covid while most normal people started crumbling, because it really helped expose the theatre I engaged in for how ridiculous it all was. Yeah, wear a mask, go ahead, the cotton is just going to get moist and useless if you don’t change it all day but at least you’re keeping your filthy spittle to yourself, lol, and also yes please keep 6 feet away from me thank you, and also I’m sure the covid germs respect the plexiglass barrier between me and the cashier, yes. Lol. Or when we went bowling for my kid’s birthday and they put up shower curtains between the lanes. Health theatre!) Enough about covid, that was a silly time, and I probably shouldn’t make light of something that traumatized an entire generation.⁴

There’s a lot of stereotypes about OCD. Tidiness, for one. Nope. Listen, here’s a good way to tell if you’re “so OCD, teehee” or if you've got the real deal—not that I’m a therapist but because I have Lived Experience. Do you get physically distressed by thoughts? Beyond regular worry. Do horrible thoughts pop in your head All Day Long and they don’t feel like they’re yours but they make you SO UNCOMFORTABLE that you need to DO SOMETHING to feel better? Or maybe you worry they are your thoughts and that makes you Extremely Distressed? (Intrusive thoughts can be about anything, and can happen any time.) Can you not trust your own memory? Your own eyes? And not every form of OCD is contamination; you can have religious OCD, aka scrupulosity, or all sorts of fun thoughts about harming oneself or another if you don’t do the thing, whatever that thing may be. Many fun subgenres of OCD are out there! No, you don’t get to choose! Basically, you get The Thought, and you have to do something about it, and then you get The Thought again, and again, and again… You might have strange rituals, and you watch The Aviator (2004) and go “wow, I wish I had enough money so I could lock myself up in my personal movie theatre.”⁵

Trying to not think The Thought also makes it worse, so that's a lot of fun.

Before I got my diagnosis, I had no idea what was wrong with me, and that made everything so much worse. Now, at least, I can ask myself “is this a realistic response to [perceived threat] or is it my OCD?” Though, lately, it’s been really difficult to even do that.

But it will pass. It has to. It never fully goes away, but sometimes it’s just… more or less difficult to handle. Comes in waves. This wave is a rough one.

After that episode when I was postpartum, (and I didn’t think I would get better then either, I have to remind myself as much as assure the people around me) I went on to start a business, did that for a couple years, then I decided to get over my business closing (those who know, know how depressing that is, too) by focusing on my writing. Now you all are reading this, and maybe even my books, or my back catalogue here on Substack. And that’s very cool.

Writing all this is a bit embarrassing, but, I figure if there’s anyone else feeling like this, they might feel less alone. It is very difficult to talk about, especially when you’re aware enough to know that the thing you’re hysterical about in the moment makes you sound completely insane to the person you’re being hysterical around.⁶ And at the opposite side I can also be very self-isolating, keeping to myself and some of you may have noticed I haven’t been very active online. Too much stuff on the internet that stresses me out, and other reasons. I flip-flop between needing to call someone to rant and rave, or shut myself away.

So: bringing it all back to my writing, which is why you, dear reader, are here (for the most part)—how has this shaped what I’ve written?

Pallas, specifically Kylan’s ordeal, was heavily influenced by my dad catching blastomycosis when I was a teenager (it ain’t a fun thing to catch), which also significantly altered my dad’s behavior afterwards (see footnote 5.) Sometimes traumatic events can trigger these things. (See also, hoarding behavior, which some think might fall under the OCD umbrella and often happens after a trauma.) I suppose I used the fear I had for my dad, even though it had happened years before I wrote the book, when writing about Kylan’s illness.

In The Highwayman Kennedy Thornwick, it’s very subtle, but Kennedy himself has certain habits. Now, all the characters in the book have bits and pieces of people I’ve known in real life—of course, because how else do we construct characters—but you’d be surprised how many people you wouldn’t expect to be this way, that are this way. (If you’ve read it, you might have noticed how many times he mentions laundering clothes.) Now, I’m not suggesting Kennedy had full-blown OCD (he certainly had other problems), however, he did have some very subtle quirks (overshadowed by those other problems) that probably only Tommy, Muggy and Anna noticed. In fact, I tackle quite a few mental illnesses through multiple characters in that book. I would say if you look past the fantasy elements, the book really is about mental illness. But, thinking back to my Thomas Covenant review and the essay I shared by Donaldson, isn’t that really what fantasy a genre has as a strength? Externalization of the internal?

My short story “Sunbonnet Sue” from The Midnight Vault collection was heavily inspired by the strange rituals we engage in for a moment of relief… and as a fun fact, Sunbonnet Sue is an embroidery motif often seen on vintage tea towels/cleaning cloths. Quilts moreso, but also tea towels. When I tried thinking of what the character could have as a repetitive behavior, those “Monday Washday, Tuesday Iron” patterns popped in my head.

I’m sure it has affected my writing in other ways—perhaps my imagination is a double-edged sword sometimes—but those are some things that immediately come to mind.

Anywho, thanks for reading, hopefully I get back to “normal”⁷ soon, and thank you to everyone who has reached out to me, noticing my absence online. It really means a lot.

But, other than an occasional diary post such as this, I am mostly here for talking fiction. So why not check my books out?

Pallas [Amazon] [Kobo]

The Highwayman Kennedy Thornwick [Amazon] [Kobo]

The Ghosts of Tieros Kol [Amazon] [Kobo]

Pull Me Under, a novel I serialized right here on Substack, for free.

Peace!

1. Maybe a myth, but other factors also affected the decision. I could go into it, but this isn’t one of them mommy blogs.

2. People who put meat packages in the child seat spot drive me absolutely nuts. Please don’t put slimy ass meat in the child seat spot. Am I overreacting, maybe, but like, it’s gross. “It’s in the packaging” you’ve never once had a leaky package of ground beef or some shit? Don’t put it there!!! /rant

3. I don’t carry a purse anymore so I’m not tempted by the sweet sting of Purell on my damaged skin. Lol.

4. Kids missed birthdays, almost 2 years of school (in my area), and all sorts of things that piss me right the fuck off.

5. Howard Hughes most likely had OCD, and I do consider the movie to have a very accurate representation of what it’s like. For example, the milk bottle. The fact he shares one with Katharine is very, very significant, and most people do not catch the importance of that small scene. She is safe to him. I might not be counting peas on my plate, but it manifests differently for each person, and DiCaprio does a great job in the role. If you haven’t seen The Aviator, you should. Fun fact, OCD can run in families, and my dad made me watch that movie with him LOL maybe he was trying to communicate something.

6. God bless anyone who has suffered my phone calls, or in-person freakouts. And may my husband continue to have patience with me. Shout-out to St. Dymphna, also. Been praying to her a lot. In fact, this episode has destroyed my atheism, as difficult as my mental illness is to deal with, it has also led me to faith. Perhaps I’ll elaborate on this in another post. Prayer has really helped me a lot.

7. Still completely mental but like functionally mental I guess