Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

I was about 14 when I started developing acne.

Or was I 13?

No, definitely 14.

Maybe 13.

Anyway, I was just barely a teenager when I started developing acne.

It wasn’t the first time I noticed imperfections on my skin.

But I had had enough of the redness and bumps on my face.

I needed clear skin.

If I had clear skin, I would be the prettiest girl in the world.

Or at least, better looking.

So I picked.

And I picked.

And I picked.

And I picked.

I felt that if I could get rid of every scab, I could be free.

Craters were left instead.

I saw no point in stopping.

As more scabs developed, I picked more.

More craters.

My fingernails have always been thin.

Very weak.

I pick and I peel to make them short so that I can’t pick my skin.

But then I pick and I peel to keep them short and ultimately ruin my nails.

So you see my problem here.

I have spent so much time worrying about brushing my teeth incorrectly that I have given up on the act itself.

If I don’t start at the front of my mouth, then to the left, then to the right, then to the bottom, and then to the top, I feel I might combust.

If I decide to show my teeth when I smile, I have to make sure my head is tilted just right. I have to make sure my angles are correct.

If people can mostly see only my top teeth, it’s a bad picture. If my smile is crooked, it’s a bad picture. If the smile is disingenuous, it’s a bad picture.

I have to show my good side, which changes rather frequently.

I can’t decide which side is my good side, I can’t decide how much of my teeth to show, and I can no longer show a genuine smile.

So I ultimately close the camera.

Falling in love for the first time was the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

Me falling in love for the first time was also probably the worst thing that’s ever happened to the person I fell in love with and every person that I have met since.

I have thought about him every single day for nearly 6 years.

I wish I was exaggerating.

I have thought about the past, present, and future with him.

I have fallen in love with him multiple times and then worry that I am in love only with the idea of him but then I think “No, it’s definitely him that I’m in love with” and to this day, I am still unsure.

I make sure to tell all of my friends about that too.

And for some reason, prospective lovers as well.

I overthink so many different scenarios that I am pretty sure I have the multiverse figured out in my head.

Or at least, a lot of possibilities.

The world has spun around me so fast that I feel tangled in its mess.

I have been told to keep my mind busy, but I don’t think it has ever had a moment of rest.

I have been told to keep my hands busy, but if I don’t scratch this itch or fix my face, I will be SO uncomfortable.

I am tired of being uncomfortable.

Then they spoke to me.

They said

“What you’re experiencing is OCD.”

The overwhelming need to control.

My desires to feel perfect.

The world’s deepest tangles.

I open Spotify on my phone because my headset attached to my computer just doesn’t sound the same and I need continuity.

I play that one song or album I’ve been listening to on repeat for over a month.

When I say “on repeat”, I mean that literally.

I haven’t listened to it enough.

It needs to get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

But nothing ever does.