- Date posted
- 5y
- Date posted
- 5y
OCD is like your shadow. It follows you around and sometimes it throws crap your way. But its always a part of you.
- Date posted
- 5y
Yes, ocd arises from the way our brains are organized. It's patterns that we've engrained into our neural pathways. However, those pathways are modifiable. The brain is amazingly plastic. One way to facilitate brain change is to externalize the problem by separating ocd from ourselves. This allows us to step into our observing self. In turn, we can then so a better job determining effective actions and implementing them with the help of supportive self talk
- Date posted
- 5y
Thanks for the great responses everyone. I often feel like I’m battling ocd in my mind as a separate entity. Some people describe it as a “monster” or they’ll name the ocd and treat it as something they want to eradicate. I’m embracing the ocd as part of “me” incorporating it as mind, body and soul. I’m ok with having ocd. I’m at peace with my ocd and accept the condition.
- Date posted
- 5y
It’s a part of us, but it’s not us. That was a struggle for me. I’m handling it much better now viewing that way.
- Date posted
- 5y
The problem is that English is really not a useful language for discussing issues of psychology. It’s not precise; the same word can have a dozen different definitions and connotations depending on how it’s used and who hears it. :\ There’s a reason (actually, several) why it’s considered one of the more difficult languages to learn. What is meant by “OCD is separate from me” is that concieving of OCD as an external force is a way to help stop conflating your intrusive thoughts with your identity, your sense of “me” and “who I am.” My sense of “me” is bound up in what I consciously believe, feel, value, and want, but the formation of all of those relies on what I first *observe*. OCD threatens that sense, because it makes me observe intrusive, fearful, contrary-to-my-established-values thoughts, and it makes me do it from within my own mind, so that it becomes very, very easy to think that these thoughts are representative of “me” (as I described above; my beliefs, feelings, values, and wants), and/or to allow these thoughts to influence my sense of “me.” Because human brains tend to love creating stories—we are literally always constructing plot sequences, assigning motives and significance, observing patterns and foreshadowing, etc out of our own daily experiences, even if you never set pen to paper—it’s usually useful to set “me” up as the protagonist, and “the OCD” as the antagonist, in the story of one’s mental illness and recovery. I doubt that many people believe that OCD is some type of homunculus (though honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was), but treating it as if it is can be helpful in overcoming it’s influence.
Related posts
- Date posted
- 21w
I know that sounds a bit harsh, but people with OCD think very differently then everyone else and we do strange things. I used to think OCD was just that we overthink to much and have compulsions to fix it, but its kinda alot more than that i realise. Like peoples lives are legit debilitated from this thing. Thats serious and i dont think others realise that. Mabye im concerned too much idk.
- Date posted
- 19w
If you are anything like me (and most of you are, because let’s face it, we are all on this chat), you have OCD. Real OCD, not the organisation, matching colours everyone thinks it is. Real OCD. I’ve always known I was different, known that my brain does some waking things and deep down, I’ve always known I’ve had OCD. But there is just something that changes when you finally get the diagnosis. It makes more sense, you have an explanation for your behaviours. So naturally I told my friends. When they ask why I had to stop and step four times on a tile I said ‘oh, I have OCD’. I finally had a word, a tangible concept that I could explain to people. But nobody warned me about the massive misconceptions about OCD. Instead of support or acceptance, my friends seemed to question the diagnosis saying ‘that’s not ocd, don’t you just like things organised?’. And no matter how much I explain it they don’t seem to get it. And that’s the part that feels so cruel. I go through hell in my head and it can all be reduced to a phrase of ‘oh, aren’t you organised’. So please be careful out there you guys, and if someone try’s to downplay your experience, know that you are valid and that what you are going through is probably something that they could never handle. It’s a lesson that took me time to learn, but it’s important because our experience matters. Our real experience.
- Date posted
- 15w
The subject of OCD matters to the sufferer because it feels like confirmation that they are fundamentally unlovable and unwanted—as if even existence itself doesn’t want them. They feel like an error, carrying a deep sense of guilt and shame, as if they were inherently wrong. They suffer from low self-esteem and a deep internalized shame, because long ago, they were fragmented and learned a pattern of fundamental distrust—especially self-distrust. But the real trouble doesn’t come from the content of the most vile or taboo thoughts. It comes from the fact that the sufferer lacks self-love. That’s why, when you begin to walk the road to recovery, you’re taught unconditional self-acceptance—because that’s what all sufferers of OCD have in common: if you aren’t 100% sure, if there isn’t absolute certainty, the doubt will continue to attack you and your core values. It will make you doubt everything—even your own aversion to the thoughts. You have to relearn how to trust yourself—not because you accept that you might become a murderer someday—but because you enter a deep state of acceptance about who you truly are. It’s not about becoming a monster at all. It’s about making peace with what lies at the root of the fear. Making peace with the guilt. With the shame. Making peace with yourself and the person you fear you might be. Because that fear is not rooted in reality. It’s not rooted in any true desire to act. It’s rooted in your identity—specifically, in what might threaten it. That’s what confirms the belief that you are fundamentally wrong. And OCD fuels that belief by using intrusive taboo thoughts to attack your very sense of self. But then I wonder: let’s say, for example, someone fears being or becoming a sexually dangerous person—how could that person practice unconditional self-acceptance? I would never accept myself if I were to harm anyone—the thought alone makes me want to cry. I know it’s not about whether or not someone acts on the thought. It’s about the core fear underneath it. So how do you accept yourself when the thoughts—and the feelings around them—feel so completely unacceptable ?
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