I wish there was a movie about OCD that a lot of people could relate to.. didn’t find one yet

I'm sry if this may make people worry or feel uncomfortable in advance! Hello everyone as u can see I struggle with ocd and I HATE IT WITH MY LIFE , it started in 2020 covid obv contamination ocd started here , I used to carry alcohol everywhere and used to wash my hands so much that it bled ( had to wear gloves to cover it so friends or family won't see it ) and everything else started since then , harm ocd with myself or friends I couldn't hold a knife..it was really hard..and I have unwanted sexual thoughts ocd , I have panic attacks bc of this..I sometimes cannot look people into their eyes and its so random and so scary..thoughts about.. 🍇..whether it's me or I'm gonna harm someone else uk..I sometimes cannot function properly.. unfortunately friends don't understand it rather think it's about " perfectionism "..I wrote those thoughts and stuff in a journal in more details ofc and doodle ( I'm scared someone will find it ) I hate myself tbh and I don't think someone will read this... I suspect I have ADHD with all this but ocd is " ur faking it " even though lots of people have hinted about it , I thought I actually killed someone for 2 years a girl..until I realized what HOCD is , I thought I faked my ocd too in fact , I have perfectionism ocd too it's bad and I HATE PURE O it's so DRAINING uk.. also idk if this has caused a problem for anyone but if y'all know the Truman show ( basically if u don't know the main character is being filmed and his life is fake and he doesn't know it ) THAT MOVIE HAS HARMED ME SO BADLY FOR YEARS that until today I have to check in the bathroom if there are cameras cuz like ocd makes me think I'm living in a fake world , I used to think people around me , everyone was like a Ai model or smth.. everytime until today I have to clean the toilet seat bc it may be dirty..I have been taking up to 5 showers a day cuz maybe I'm dirty..that's it for today tysm if u read this till the end I'd like to know ur thoughts if u got tips or have similar experiences ! 🤗 U get a chocolate bar 🍫 bc u earned it bc ik how ocd is so frustrating ( I also noticed everyone who has ocd is so nice right 😆! )

I wrote these two poems for an open mike poetry night at my college a few years ago. Freshman year of college my anxiety ate me alive. I chickened out last minute and never performed, but I recently found the notebook I wrote these in and thought I’d share. i’m sO sCareD You say, "Oh my god, I’m so OCD about my notes," while I am drowning in the undertow of thoughts that refuse to let me go. You say, "I just like things neat, you know?" while I check the lock again and again, wondering if this time will be the time my brain believes me— but it never does. It's the monster under the bed except it lives in my head, whispers masquerading as instincts, warnings dressed as logic, fear that wears me like a second skin. And oh, how easy it is to laugh it off, call it a quirk, a habit, a punchline, while I stand at the brink of a thought so loud I can feel it crack my ribs. You say, "I’m so OCD about my computer icons." I say, I can’t hold my mother’s hand without tracing the veins, make sure she’s alive, still beating and bleeding, rewinding, replaying, repeating, repeating, until I become the pattern itself. I say, I live on a hill. And if the picture frames aren’t straight, the ground will shift, the walls will give way, my home will collapse beneath me. And I can’t let it go? I say, I step in threes, three, three, three, reset, three, three— reset. Because if I do it wrong, something worse will happen, though I don’t know what, only that the terror knows it for me. I am not particular. I am prisoner. So when you say OCD, I hope you mean the way it steals— the way it clings, the way it suffocates, because it is not about preference. It is about survival. hallway girl. Why can’t I have the helpful OCD? The organized one, the productive one, the one people praise instead of whisper about? Why can’t my compulsions make me a genius instead of a joke? Why do they make me the hallway girl— “she’s still walking the hallway” as if it’s a comedy show. As if it’s funny to be trapped in my own head. You see it in sitcoms— the guy who can’t handle an uneven stack of papers, the woman who scrubs the counters too much, laugh track ringing loud— but no one laughs at the panic that coils in my lungs no one sees the terror when the stairs don’t add up and suddenly the earth is shaking and I can’t move No one shows the moments I cry over a step miscounted, staring at the hallway, knowing I have to start over, but already too exhausted to move. No one shows the shame, the whispered apologies, the effort of convincing myself this time, maybe, I’ll be strong enough to resist— but I never am. And no one shows the shoes. How I would run, sprint, chase time through our fifteen-minute break, Back to my room, because if they moved— if they weren’t exactly right— my dad would have a heart attack. And it would be my fault. So I checked. And checked. And checked again. Until I was breathless, But still had to sprint back to class and pretend I didn’t leave my mind behind with my shoes. So when they call me hallway girl, I bite my tongue so they don’t see how hard it takes Because if OCD is a joke, why am I the only one who isn’t laughing?

Last night I watched The Aviator (2004) for the very first time and I am shook at how much I related to Leonardo DiCaprio's depiction of Howard Hughes and his severe OCD. I never realized just how differently OCD can present, not just with the germ theme but as agoraphobia and not eating and verbal looping. If I had seen this when I was younger I wondered if I would have caught on sooner that I had severe OCD and not have been misdiagnosed until age 41 with other severe mental illnesses. If I had seen the scenes of Howard Hughes's mental breakdowns in The Aviator (2004) ... They looked so much like mine. Too much like mine. But without knowing about Exposure Response Therapy I still wouldn't have done anything about it. Deep down I knew I had it, probably knew by my late twenties, I just didn't have a name for it because they depicted OCD as these weird little actions you have to do before you do what you want, like turn a light on and off or count ceiling tiles, and not the things I do. And they never explained what was behind the compulsion, so I didn't know I was performing compulsions. I just wondered why I was exhausted all the time and had trouble with executive functioning. But the signs were there ever since I was a child. If I couldn't do it perfectly or figure out a way to do it perfectly I wouldn't initiate anything. Not for lack of initiative. So I wasn't washing my hands to bleeding or eating only 6 peas. I was writing until my hands were sore, memorizing Bible verses, uncontrollably glitching verbal loops, and suffering sleepless nights because my bedroom walls were not the exact shade of blue I wanted or I didn't start the day in the right order and it felt life-threatening. I remember in sixth grade I yelled out, "Spider!" That gave me the feeling of safety I chased and then I literally could not stop yelling it out, I was even annoying myself and everyone else and telling people I couldn't stop but all that would come out is the word "spider!" So I grew up miserable thinking I was the weird little girl in class not knowing I was sick. And that turned into the weird adult trying to hide the fact they were weird from everyone else until I broke over and over again. And that's when my adulthood sometimes looked like being frozen on the couch, porch, or bedroom for days, weeks, months convinced everything was crawling with bugs and avoiding everyone's phone calls and eating only popsicles, doctors thinking my repetitive glitch brain meant I was hearing voices and my lack of hygiene was something else. I was afraid of the harm I did, I was afraid I was in trouble, I was afraid I'd harmed other people without knowing it, and I was afraid I was too gross to love. This is still true to this day. Under the care of professionals almost all my life and only correctly diagnosed at age 41 when it feels like it's too late to make it better because I've been burned out for years is daunting. But I'm still here and it's been almost six years since my last hospitalization. I no longer think I am a monster. That in itself is more than I ever dreamed of.