On One of my Secrets – A Review

I started this blog for a couple of reasons. The simplest is that it’s essentially a portfolio. Businesses can read this and get a general feel for my style and abilities as a writer. But I also started this as a means to express myself and to start conversations. I don’t think any one person can change the world, in fact, I don’t think any one person can really even change themselves. In a lot of ways, it takes a village, but if that village isn’t communicating, then there’s no way to start that change.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I started this blog to learn. I want people to challenge my assumptions and ideologies, I want people to tackle what I think and make me question it. I want a conversation. So, I do that by expressing my ideas and looking for the bounce back. Which requires participation.

But I realize that seems daunting! As I’ve written, I’ve learned a lot about people who react and comment on Facebook, and I cherish that this medium (and their courage to comment) made that possible.

I’m a talkative guy, but I’m also an introvert. It’s not hard to get me started on a story or ranting about my opinion, but it’s also not too difficult to get me to just sit there and listen to your life story. At the same time, I have great anxiety about saying the wrong thing, and I get exhausted in larger social settings.

I’m beating around the bush for what I want to talk about today.

Somehow, I wanted to segue all of this into the concept of secrets. There are things about me that people I’ve known for most of my life don’t know. I don’t know why I hide things occasionally, I just do.

If I had to guess, I'd say almost always, I hide things for personal reasons. I don’t want people to perceive me different, or to think they have to care for the additional weight of my problems. It’s a weird mix of being altruistically selfish, I suppose. Just know as you read on, I know I’m not alone. Personally, and socially. And know that I also never hid this from you for any reason that wasn’t of my own invention.

In 2016 I was diagnosed with OCD. Take one look at my room and you might not believe me, but the stereotypical neat freak side of the disorder isn’t the most common side effect, but believe it when I tell you I have had it for as long as I can remember.

Most of what OCD does to me is hidden. I do some of the things people joke about, like strive to step on sidewalk chunks an even number of times, to step on the same bits of pattern on tiled floor, and I have little rituals for menial tasks that might seem abundantly strange.

I spend a lot of mental energy actively trying to fight my brain and body when it tries to do these things. Which is funny, because it frustrates me when I do it and when I don’t. But, these little quirks are the smallest of my worries.

The worst part about OCD is the extreme anxiety it gives me. I have a need for specific types of order. I don’t have expectations, but I get increasingly aggravated when my routines are disrupted. If I don’t take a moment to settle myself, it can make me a pain to deal with. Now those of you who’ve lived with me are probably nodding your heads in realization.

If you’ve kept up with the blogs, you’ll know that I was also diagnosed with severe depression, generalized anxiety disorder, and insomnia. That might seem like a laundry list of issues, but would you believe it if I told you they all play off of my OCD?

It’s just one illness that pushed me into the rabbit hole of having four mental illnesses. Even the psychiatrist who diagnosed me isn’t sure if they’re separate entities or one in the same. Mental illness is strange like that.

My experience with OCD has shifted over the years. When I was a kid, it took the form of a need to touch things an even amount of times. It started when I moved from Temecula to Murrieta. I was 8, and I obviously didn’t know this was what was causing it. I also walked on my tip-toes, which might have been the OCD or it might have been how often I’d wear “Heelies,” those shoes with wheels, because my parents were rad as hell and bought me them.

It also caused me to have recurring nightmares, a strangely persistent memory, and a general fear of failure. Most of those quirks stuck with me until middle school, which is about when I stopped having a regular sleep schedule due to what professionals call “thought spirals.” This has recently become a mainstream term due to their appearance in the book Turtles all the way Down, but I didn’t know that was what they were called, so in High School I took to calling them recursive thoughts. It’s hard to describe what it’s like, but generally it’s just a negative feedback loop.

Just imagine being trapped with one thing on your mind for hours with no way to really stop it. For a lot of people with OCD, their thought spirals tend to focus on germs, or bodily issues. But there’s no real classifying it. Anything can set anyone off, at least, that’s my experience.

Most of mine center around one of my recent blogs, the one about imposter syndrome (I was sowing these seeds for a while), I have a need to be liked by the people I admire. So, sometimes, I’ll be having a pleasant well-meaning conversation, but something minor will make me assume that they secretly despise me. Or it might not even be anything at all. I just convince myself that I’m not worth someone’s time or energy, when in reality, they have their own life to worry about. The main issue is that when I get in these spirals, I can’t see that anymore. I just see the pain. And it sucks.

But I also get smaller recursive thoughts about things like “I should reply to the text someone sent me even though I’m busy,” “your laundry is done go fold it,” when I’m working out I constantly think “did I accidentally skip a rep? do an extra one (even when I’m counting out loud),” and many more. I can’t say all of the quirky things I do are because of my OCD, but it certainly is often a route cause.

I can’t control it, and you can’t either. So, if you’re worried about making me upset, don’t. It’s rarely anyone’s fault. Not even mine. And to be fair, I’ve been able to handle the effects of it for a decade. If I’m really struggling I’ll just ask if things are okay. So please, let me do that sometimes, that’s all I ask.

Additionally, if you’re sitting there thinking “I get recursive thoughts too, I must have OCD,” maybe you do! But most likely, you’re just human. These thoughts consume me, and if I don’t rectify them, I get in a funk that lasts days to weeks to months. Yes, even the little ones. It’s just like depression or anxiety. Anyone can experience their symptoms but not have the label. Like I said, mental illness is weird.

If you’re truly worried about having the disorder, I highly recommend you get checked up. The DSM-V is flawed, but the system itself does help. I was disturbed but also comforted when the psychiatrist said those three simple letters to me. It made me feel like all these issues weren’t my fault, and in a lot of ways, they aren’t.

So there. That’s one of my biggest secrets. Something I think only two people ever knew. I’m giving it away now, because I don’t want to hide it anymore, and I trust anyone who reads this to treat me the same as I always have been treated. And maybe, to help start the ruminations of a conversation about mental illness in different places in America.

Thanks for reading, and no matter the day of the week it is you picked this up, have a happy Wednesday!