Its so hard living with roomates while having OCD.

venting cause im tired of this: sorry for yelling it’s for emphasis, HAVE ANY OF MY FREAKOUTS CAUSED BY OCD ACTUALLY HELPED ME?? PROBABLY NOT? (no seriously they havnt this is exposure therapy now I ain’t reassuring myself) HAVE THEY MADE ME SLEEP DEPRIVED? YES HAVE THEY MADE MY HANDS CRACK AND BLEED FOR YEARS? YES (ouch currently can’t even move my hands without them cracking open) HAVE THEY MADE ME TAKE WAY TO MANY SHOWERS TO THE POINT MY HAIR IS LIKE STRAW? YES HAVE THEY MADE ME LOST WITHIN MY SELF AND RUIN RELATIONSHIPS? YES :( HAVE THEY MADE ME AVOID AREAS OF MY NICE HOME? YES (double sucks cause i only moved late last year) legit in the last couple of months i thought i had could have tetanus, insecticide poisoning, mould in my hair and bed, that somehow bleach and alcohol or ammonia got mixed and i made a toxic gas (I don’t even own bleach etc) thrown out towels and clothes and so so much more. just wtf is ocd, why? Why does it do this?? Surely people without ocd are just wondering what they’ll have for lunch or something?? NOT OMG ITS GOT MOULD ITS SPREAD EVERYWHERE. I’m so tired, just want to live life without being terrified all the time. Please join in with what you’re over with when it comes to OCD, it’s good to vent sometimes.

(long read ahead, sorry lol) I’ve struggled with ocd for as far back as I can remember. I find that it gets worse with stress, and recently I’ve really been struggling with the contamination aspect of my ocd. I’m worried about it becoming unmanageable and negatively affecting my relationship with my partner. I’ve been living with my boyfriend since January (got kicked out of my house a week after I turned 18, it’s for the better though my house is toxic as hell) and I love living with him, but him and his family aren’t as concerned with cleaning as I am used to. My boyfriend and I have been together going on 2 years and there’s been many times throughout our relationship that his struggle with depression severely impacted his ability to keep up with cleaning his room. This is something I completely understand because I’ve struggled with it too so i’ve often helped him clean, and since i’ve moved in he’s done so much better at keeping up with cleaning (especially because he knows about my issues with clutter, mess, germs, etc.) He is really good at being accommodating towards my needs (not overly so, i’m aware that recovering includes accepting being uncomfortable), but it’s so hard for me to differentiate between what is the normal standard for cleanliness and hygiene and what’s excessive and unhealthy. I get so stressed out every single day over the thought of how dirty everything is. He has 3 cats that mainly stay in his room (he has a catio attached to his window/side of the house) and dogs which stay on the opposite side of the house and backyard, so there is fur everywhere constantly (i’m also allergic to cats but it’s not severe). I can’t stop thinking about how they are getting germs from their litter box all over everything. They also used to piss under his bed and in his closet when his room used to be a mess and it’s soaked into the floor so no matter what it stinks. It’s so hard to bring myself to walk around the house without slippers because my feet will get visibly dirty and my socks would get covered in hair. I always think about how my boyfriend sometimes walks on the rugs in the bathroom in shoes and all the germs that spreads. There’s so many more things but this is already getting long and I am shaking just thinking about how unclean everything is. I want to deep clean the entire house myself so I can get it to where It’s not like psychological torture everyday and it’s easier to maintain but I have been so busy I don’t have the time. I am worried about my boyfriend thinking I don’t like living with him or that I think that’s he’s dirty but i don’t. We have had several conversations about this and he’s reassured me that he knows none of my obsessive thoughts are personal but I still feel so bad about it. I would like to get therapy to help work through this but currently that is not an option for me. I know things will get better once I get through the main things in my life that are causing a lot of stress and therefore making my ocd flair up, but I need advice on what to do in the mean time. I keep having moments where all I can do is shake and cry and clean and I feel bad for my poor boyfriend who can only sit next to me and try to comfort me or help me clean. I also don’t want to make him worried that nothing he does is enough for me (i’ve also already talked to him about this and told him about how I can never even be clean enough for myself and that I don’t think he’s dirty). There’s been many times where I want to tell him to do things that I think might be my own unhealthy compulsions (ex. not wearing shoes in the house or in our room, not getting into bed with socks on, making sure to completely dry off before getting out the shower, put makeup and jewelry back where they belong right after using them, etc.) but i can’t tell if they’re reasonable or not and i try to not tell him unless it’s something that severely distresses me. I’m aware that everything is going to have germs no matter what and have been using NER’s to help manage my thought spirals/rumination. I know that I shouldn’t keep doing compulsions because it just offers temporary relief and makes the problem worse because nothing will ever be enough. I just feeling so overwhelmed and hopeless and exhausted and want some feedback.

These are some of my experiences with some theatrical flare to better depict how it feels. I decided to share this because when I saw this community I suddenly felt less alone in more human. Lovecraftian door Lurker: I don’t know the subtypes so I’ll just be talking about my relationship with OCD. OCD! that lonely woman in the ocean singing your praise's, sure she’ll love you forever! Of course she isn’t a siren planning on dragging you to the depths and tearing you to shreds. OCD! that haunting whisper in the wind calling you to fly! fly! OCD! that Lovecraftian abomination chanting at you from behind a locked door. Banging demanding you bow to it’s will. For me it latches on to my trauma and PTSD circling them like some demented teacup ride. A daily occurance for me is recalling the day I died when I was like 6 i remeber each detail of the day the kids i met the activtes we particapated in, the heat. The height of the slide before i plummeted to my death. This day consumes my life. “Thud thud!” I ask my parents about it often they tell me it never happened i tell them they weren’t there. Each time they lie and say I’ve never told them. My boyfriend whom I’ve been with for three years hears the story offten and often deals with me asking him if he’s seen me ask my parents. “Thud Thud” Each time he says yes and I asked how they responded “like you’ve never told them.” I constantly become afraid that my boyfreind will drown because he can’t swim. “Thud! Thud!” and because he can’t swim that the car will go off the road into some body of water and he will die. ”Thud! Thud!” I feel the water filling my lungs turning them into fire, the fear of reaching out my hands with no aid. “THUD! THUD! And he will die alone too and there’s nothing you can do to stop it! THUD THUD!” I scream that same fire fueling my rage my tears running down my face like gasoline igniting the thought spiral further burning deeper into my self hatred. I scream again banging my hands on my head. Wish and hoping it will shut up the thoughts.“why? Why?! WHY!” Sobbing until I’m nothing but a puddle. . . Ya know a few months ago I was depressed the thoughts became too much, so I wanted to get high. I thought it would make them stop “Thud! Thud!” So I took a gummy it was unpackage, from a friend of a friend so now the word dog, in reference to a person is a permit part of my vocabulary. And I have memories from being in a comma because it turned out to be DMT and my 6 hour trip end up feeling like 6 months of HELL. The ocd thoughts that i usually see, in a flash became so real that i just cried for hour terrified i was stabbing my eyes out dead and this was my purgatory for leaving the church. ”Thud! THUD!” I stopped using my favorite water bottle after that. Before the incident The bottle up against the wall with the straw to the side of the wall because the thought that would repeat in my head would be that because of my clumsiness I would trip and fall onto the straw and it would stab my eye out and kill me. I had this thought often I kept look up what to do if you accidently get something stab/stuck in your eye. “Thud! Thud!”