how to beat obsessive compulsive disorder...

Awhile back I mentioned that I had a bad case of obsessive compulsive disorder when I was a kid. Although this disorder was an exceptional hindrance on my life, I found that I had a certain amount of control over it. I could make it come and go depending on who was standing there, because I didn’t want anyone to know what a little psycho I was. I was already a buck-toothed four-eyed nerd who’d received way more attention than I ever wanted based on that criterion. Adding mental illness to public opinion seemed a selfish monopoly of negative imagery. So while I knew I was a little nuts, no one else had to. That’s the genius of crazy people and the reason most people don’t realize others are crazy until it’s too late. Just ask the BTK killer’s wife.

So this is really a story about how I broke myself of my compulsive habits at the age of 11 years old without the assistance of doctors, medications, or exorcists, and here’s how I did it.

I’ve found that fear is a two-headed monster. On one hand it’s a great motivator; on the other a debilitating, utterly fruitless emotion. Let’s clarify the distinction here.

When I was a kid I was in love with a boy named Brad. I would pedal my bike by his house with the hopes of merely getting a glimpse of him. Most days it was a phenomenal waste of time because I had to go all the way to the neighboring community which was really only a mile 8 miles away, but on this particular day it looked like it might actually be worth it. When I passed, Brad was outside playing around the family’s motor home. He didn’t see me, so I decided to pass again.

I passed again. He still didn’t see me.

WELL SHIT.

What was I going to do if he saw me anyway? Strike up a conversation about my ability to kill a colony of ants by positioning my glasses in the sunlight just the right way? Or how about whether or not I would need stitches, since on my third pass through I bit the dust on a pothole in the road.

Sure, he looked up then. And being the nice boy he was he came out in the street to help me up. Not only that, but he also invited me over to see his parent’s motor home and GET THIS…even brought me a 7Up.  I was pretty sure he was in love with me.

So there we are, talking and playing, when suddenly I have the overwhelming urge to pee.

PERFECT.

I think to myself how, if I ask to use the bathroom, he may think I’m weird. Or that we’re having such a nice time, if I use the bathroom the moment is lost and when I come back it may not be the same. Or maybe his mom will tell him he has to go in for consorting with the ugly girl. Mostly I was just afraid to ask.

So I didn’t ask.

This is an example of how fear is a stupid, stupid emotion that holds us back from a positive outcome like relieving oneself. Instead of simply asking to use his bathroom, I peed my pants right there in front of him and pedaled home crying like a retard. I never looked him in the eye again and avoided him in the hallways. Had I just asked to use his bathroom, I could have come back, resumed playing and begun planning our June wedding.

That type of fear has no place in our lives. However, sometimes fear can motivate us to make positive changes in our lives. This kind of fear is why I no longer flip light switches on and off 8, 10, or 12 times. That’s actually how I discovered how to utilize fear to my advantage, standing in my bedroom flipping the light switch. I remember thinking to myself at that moment that I was getting to the age where I may be invited to slumber parties and other functions with kids from school. I was mortified by the thought of them finding out my dirty little OCD secret. I can recall telling myself, look Jaime…just STOP doing this or else you’re going to get made fun of, and this time you may never recover. Aren’t you tired of being a weirdo?

The fear of that rejection was intense enough to break myself of such an annoying disorder. (*disclaimer: for those who don’t care what others think of you – you’re screwed).

It wasn’t overnight, but it did work. I didn’t know it at the time, but I also used positive imagery in meeting this goal of not being a dipshit. I imagined myself doing normal things. I pretended I was already like all the other girls at school and that soon they would all be my friends. I didn’t make eye contact with the light switch. If I started to slip, I would tell myself YOU ARE NOT A FAILURE. A nerd, yes. Ugly, yes. But never so pitiful to be conquered by a light switch.

There were actually many more little quirks I had besides the light switch, and I’ve been able to stave them off ever since. This is not to say that I haven’t acquired other undesirable qualities over time, but I damn sure don’t waste electricity.

I recently had an instance where I nearly let unhealthy fear keep me from doing something that was really in my heart to do. My fear kept telling me you may fail. What if your writing is rejected, or someone doesn’t like what you say? And just as I did at eleven, I replaced each negative thought with a positive image of success.

Some people will say that's tree-hugging weird hippie stuff. And those people can wallow in their obsessive behaviors and thought patterns all they want, but these images are the reason I will succeed in the way that I desire without peeing my pants.