My Life with OCD
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The impact of OCD and related anxiety based disorders on the family is often overlooked. In this multi-part series, we present first-hand accounts of the ongoing impact of OCD, BDD, and Bipolar Disorder on one man and his family, as told to Elizabeth Kassel, MSW, of the OCD Center of Los Angeles.
My name is Robert and I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). I am a thirty-four year old, single man and work as a personal fitness trainer. My story is not typical, but it is the only one I have . . .
I was four years old when I looked at a picture Bible and saw an image of Satan. My thought was, “Satan is cool!” He wore a red cape and was “ripped!” My obsession was that, since I thought he was cool, I was evil and I would go to hell. I knew that evil people hurt others, and I was terrified of hurting someone. It never occurred to me to tell my parents. I figured all kids thought this way too, but the other kids just seemed to be “managing” it better than I was. They didn’t appear bothered by the eternal consequences of their actions like I was. They were talking back, swearing, being disrespectful and acting cocky, but weren’t worried about going to hell. I figured that thinking Satan was cool and that I was evil was “normal”, and that I just had to be more laid back and figure out how to worry less.
One day when I was fourteen, I had an intrusive thought that I wasn’t funny. I couldn’t shake it and kept a journal of funny quips so I could be “funny” in social situations. I tried to keep up the compulsion of memorizing stuff from the “funny book” so I wouldn’t be “slow”. I wanted to be quick witted, playful and charming. The irony is people said I was funny – I just didn’t “feel” like I was. I fought to I remember “my lines” to get rid of the anxiety. At about the same age, I had the obsession that my penis wasn’t the right size. I was pre-pubescent and a “late bloomer.” When in the locker room at school, I compared the boys’ penises to my dad’s penis and thought, ”Wow! They’re tiny!” I even asked my mom one day, “Does size matter?”