OCD Is Anything But Funny

Misconceptions about the condition contribute to misunderstanding, at best, and death, at worst

For mental health awareness month, i’m sharing an article that I wrote about OCD 7 years ago (with a few changes made today). Enjoy <3

____________________________________________________________________________

I’m in a Lyft on the way to my hotel in Colorado for an OCD charity event. When my driver asks why I’m in Denver, I make the mistake—as is often the case when mentioning OCD—of telling him.

“Do you have to have OCD to attend?” he says.

“No, but I do and I’m very excited about the event. My boss is speaking at it.”

His response is not surprising, but still takes me aback: “Wouldn’t it be funny if all of the people who have OCD started rearranging the furniture, so the event never actually started?” he says. I’m the first to educate and advocate, but it was 4:30 am and I could not find words. Now, I’m full of them.

There are misconceptions about many illnesses, but OCD seems to be one of the most misunderstood of them all. Khloe Kardashian, in her KhlOCD app series, told fans that organizing her garage makes her horny. Target carries a sweater with Obsessive Christmas Disorder printed boldly across the front. Countless laypeople say they’re “so OCD hehehe” because they like to organize their bookshelves and closets by color.

On the surface, people mischaracterizing OCD might not seem like such a big deal. What does making jokes about the condition, or getting it plain wrong, actually do?

It contributes to misunderstanding, at best, and death, at worst. It deters people living with actual OCD from understanding what is going on in their mind, keeps them suffering in the worst ways imaginable without a name for their experience, leaves them worried that their scary thoughts are not part of a disorder but who they are as a person. It contributes to the unreasonable length of time it takes people with OCD to access a diagnosis and proper treatment, often 10-14 years, and contributes to the high suicide rate associated with OCD. I can’t deny that killing myself crossed my mind. I knew two things for sure: I hated my thoughts and I was not going to live with them for the rest of my life. Something had to change.

OCD is not funny. It’s a torturous, debilitating illness that changed my life in a split second. It took my mind from me in an instant, one sunny afternoon while I was working at a boutique, and my identity, one that I had known for almost 20 years. It took the breath out of my lungs every morning when I woke up…every day when I did anything at all. It preyed on what I love most and made me believe that I was a monster. No, I did not rearrange furniture because I like cleanliness and perfection. That’s not OCD. I had sexual intrusive thoughts, images, and sensations about kids, animals, friends, and most people I came into contact with. These distressing thoughts and images assaulted me all day long no matter how desparately I begged my brain to stop. That is OCD for many people. And it wasn’t funny.

It was not funny when I had my first intrusive thought that turned into an obsession. It was not funny when they wouldn’t go away, but got worse and worse by the second. It was not funny when I started feeling sensations that made me think I was the content of my thoughts. It was not funny when I couldn't sleep at night for fear that I would dream about the images in my head. It was not funny the night I did dream them, and woke up in the morning and said “I am going to tell my parents I’m schizophrenic.” It was not funny when I didn’t tell them, or a doctor, and continued to suffer in silence with no idea that I was experiencing OCD, that I was not a monster after all.

It was not funny when I could not read my textbooks or attend class. It was not funny when I saw naked images of children in my head and had intrusive thoughts about having sex with a dog. It was not funny when I wanted to get rid of my new dog, my soul child, because of these thoughts. It was not funny when I could not wear certain colors or look at certain things or go certain places because I was terrified of being triggered.

It was not funny when I thought that having sex (for the first time) could change my hormones and maybe give me relief from my OCD. It was not funny when I was taken advantage of by that man and that first time changed the course of my relationship to sex (thank you, OCD). It was not funny when I thought nobody would want to date or marry me because of my thoughts. It was not funny when I thought that I’d rather have cancer than my OCD because at least I would not have the brain that I did. It was not funny when I wanted a lobotomy. It was not funny when I thought about suicide, not because I wanted to die but because it was my escape from mental torture.

It was not funny when I watched a mom speak at the event yesterday who lost her son to OCD. It was not funny when I saw a mom crying because her middle-school daughter was experiencing torturous OCD that kids her age did not understand.

I could go on and on and on, but I’m hoping you get the point. OCD is not funny. It’s not quirky. It’s not a cute personality trait involving a love of organization and cleanliness, as is often portrayed in the media. It is egodystonic: OPPOSITE to a person’s values, desires, self-concept, and what they believe. It involves Obsessions (repetitive and unwanted intrusive thoughts and images) and Compulsions (time-consuming and excessive mental and/or physical acts that a person feels compelled to perform in response to obsessions) that only increase the Distress experienced by the sufferer. Yes, distress. OCD is agonizing. If you like your thoughts or your behavior (organizing, rearranging, etc.), it is not OCD.

OCD is debilitating. It is exhausting. It holds you captive. It tries to steal your identity and attacks what you love most. It kicks you to the ground and then beats you some more while you’re down there. It’s the hardest thing I have ever been through.

OCD has been ranked by the World Health Organization as one of the top 10 most debilitating disorders (physical or mental) of them all. It’s not funny and it’s not what the media portrays it to be.

OCD is not an adjective and people should never use it as one. Every time you do, you increase the possibility of someone suffering in the way that I did (and in the way millions of people do) without specialized treatment by clinicians who understand.

This narrative has to stop. Lives are at risk.