OCD’s unusual in that a lot of people who don’t have it, think they do. We’ve all heard someone describe themselves as being “so OCD.” Maybe you’ve said it yourself. You’d never hear someone who doesn’t have cancer claim to have cancer, yet that’s kind of what people are doing whenever they equate their fastidiousness with having a debilitating mental disorder. I know, I know: it’s not exactly the same and language evolves and blah blah blah. But it’s also illustrative of how we diminish mental illness, like when people claim they’re depressed after their favourite team loses.
OCD isn’t about being fastidious. Allow me to illustrate:
- Person A: “I like being organized! Organization makes me feel calm and in control. I don’t do well amidst chaos.”
- Person B: “I have to be organized, because if I don’t arrange things just so my family’s going to die in a fire.”
Spot the difference? To be sure, some people who do have OCD like being organized, just like some people who have OCD are left-handed or eat a pescatarian diet or listen to Blue Rodeo. Some people have OCD and couldn’t care less about being organized; I am one of these people. But don’t think I’m exaggerating about Person B: that’s an actual example of an obsessive thought, the kind that get stuck in a loop inside our brains and make OCD so debilitating. I’ve never had that particular thought, but it wouldn’t take long to find someone who has.
I think it’s also important to mention that OCDers don’t necessarily have comorbid (or simultaneously occurring) depression. Some do; I’m among the lucky ones who don’t, or at least hasn’t yet. It’s easy to say “choose optimism,” and I know that’s a tough thing for some people to do. But if you can then cling to it: optimism can be a powerful recovery tool.
So OCD isn’t depression, and it’s not a quirk either. One thing OCD is, at least in my case? A positive thing. I’ll explain in my next entry.