I’m a little bit OCD. Said everyone, ever.
As they share the results of a Buzzfeed quiz on their Facebook wall.
“It’s official; I didn’t like some pictures of things that were slightly misaligned and therefore cosmetically irksome. My diagnosis is in.”
Well I’m a little bit OCD too.
I’ve just finished cleaning underneath my blood stained fingernails following another attack of OCD related self-harm. Woop woop.
It’s a fun form of OCD called dermatillomania.
I pick at my lips until they bleed. My whole mouth tastes of blood. My hands are covered. Good times.
It runs completely counter to the very sane head that I feel like I have on my shoulders.
After each attack I am deeply annoyed at myself. It feels like it was another person that did it. I’ve slapped myself in the face at times.
It’s all preaching to the choir though. I don’t want to do it. I don’t need to be told off about it. I hate it. But I guess that’s why it’s classed as OCD. The compulsion is bigger than me.
The longest I have gone without doing it in over twenty years is one month and some change. The fact that such a piddling amount of time felt like some massive achievement says it all.
This is not the self-indulgent ramble it seems at first glance. I am putting this here so that I can start again today.
I’m cutting my nails and then proceeding one day at a time. It works for AA...
This post just gives me some sort of accountability. Or makes it real. Or something.
And it may also be seen by a fellow sufferer who might not realise it’s a condition and who accordingly might feel like less of a freak.
Day one. Let’s go.