Hey, everyone. So I wrote this article to explain how I personally deal with my current subtype. I will eventually publish it somewhere, but I think you all should read it first since it may help some of you who feel alone in this fight:
OCD.
It’s something that most people akin to placing items symmetrically, flickering the light switch a certain amount of times, or washing hands religiously.
But it’s also a lot of other things.
Take me, for example: your average woman. I’m pursuing higher education, I have a lovely boyfriend, I write music in my free time and have a great future ahead of me.
But it’s almost like sometimes I’m not allowed to enjoy that.
I live with Sexual-Orientation OCD (or SO-OCD for short). I’ve been on this subtype for a little while now. Before that, it was Relationship OCD (ROCD), and before that, it was Health OCD.
We have a term for this in the OCD world, coined “Pure-O,” which is a fancy way of saying that all our compulsions and rituals are mental – i.e., you won’t be seeing us counting steps or hoarding items.
I wake up every morning not knowing how it’s going to be. Is OCD going to try to rule me today? Or am I going to have to show it who’s boss?
Dreams, dreams, dreams! Ever have a subtype enter your subconscious so deeply that it starts infesting your dream world? Yes.
Naked women everywhere in those dreams. Depictions of me doing sexual acts with them, or touching them, or looking at them.
Yes, it’s very graphic – get used to it! OCD doesn’t play nice. It came to win.
I get up from bed, skip the coffee because Lord knows it’ll make me jittery and moody, and I go straight for the cereal.
I think, “Wow, it’ll be nice to sit down and watch the birds outside the window.”
Wrong. Instead, it’s usually me talking to myself as though I’ve already beat SO-OCD, pretending to not be in the wasteland that I’m currently in. I fantasize about being able to help others who are going through it in the future.
Then a thought pops in of me getting frisky and grabbing a woman’s butt – because, duh, that’s what OCD does.
“You can see why men love butts,” it tells me, “I mean, they’re so round and plump and grabbable.”
The trickiest part is that I’m not even anxious.
Why am I not anxious?!
I roll my eyes in frustration and look at my cereal bowl. This sucks. This really sucks.
“Like, a vagina would taste really good, you know?” My brain offers its expertise in vagina studies.
“Nah, actually I never used to think of that before you came along,” I say, defensively.
“Well, yeah, but like… the taste and the texture and everything would be so erotic.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, totally. I mean, imagine this super erotic picture of a vagina in candle lights and lace. Isn’t that nice?”
At this point, I just shrug and ask my brain if it needs rebooted. It always declines my offer.
“Hey, you know, you haven’t been reacting anxiously to your ERP lately,” it tells me in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Yeah, that’s because I’m actually getting better.”
“No way! It’s because you’re actually in denial and you’re getting closer to the truth.”
*Insert white guy blinking GIF*
“The… truth?”
Oh, boy. The truth.
That’s what it taunts me with. It wants to know ALL THE TIME. Is it true? Am I gay? Why did I feel aroused when I thought of these things? Is it because I am actually a lesbian?
“No, I mean, straight women can get aroused at that stuff, too,” I say, in a meager voice as I try to defend my case.
“HAHAHA, yeah, right. People just say that to cover it up. And actually, you don’t relate at all to those people online who talk about their stories. You haven’t been anxious in a while, remember? You can’t relate anymore so you come crawling back to me, remember?”
At this point, I frown. I’m not even mad. A sweeping sensation of melancholy spills over me.
“But… what about my boyfriend… I miss being able to be intimate with him without feeling off or awkward or uncertain.”
I try to ask my brain to cooperate, but no can do!
“Sis, it’s because you’re a lesbian. I mean, obviously. You don’t even look at him and think he’s attractive. I mean, you’ve been in denial for months now, remember when you thought you had ROCD? You’re actually just gay.”
“No, I’m not. I don’t want to be. I want to be with him. I miss how it used to feel.”
“You hated it back then, too, don’t you remember?”
*Insert a rolodex of false memories*
“No, I didn’t hate it. I just had pain from sex because of certain female issues I was having, and I’m still having them now.”
“No way. You hated sex. You hate the male body. Don’t you remember that one article you read that explained that most women are secretly lesbians and think womens’ bodies are more attractive? Don’t you remember when she wrote that men’s penises are veiny and gross? Don’t you remember?”
YES, I REMEMBER. PLEASE, JUST STOP.
Then I cry. I cry for quite some time until blood vessels are popped, and I feel a dizzy spell coming on.
“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gotten aroused by those random pictures of anime, you know,” said my brain.
“But it’s not like I actually wanted to be a lesbian!” I cry in shattered tears.
“Well, the truth hurts sometimes.”
“You hurt sometimes,” I tell my brain, wanting to punch it yet simultaneously hug it, “you hurt me a lot, but I just want to be happy.”
“I just want you to be happy, too.”
“Then, let’s try to work this out again,” I offer.
And for once, my brain agrees.
I continue the exposures throughout the day, and I spend time snuggling with my boyfriend and enjoying a cozy evening together. My brain takes a break yet still questions my every move and makes me doubt myself, but I continue with my day with my head up high.
And so, dear readers, it is as simple as this:
I don’t have to search for an answer, and neither do you. The answer is that there is none. I wish you the best in your experiences and hope for peace and compassion in your life.
I love you all with open arms and understanding. ❤❤❤❤❤
