OCD: Harm Was My Obsession, Not My Reality

A week ago, our country was once again reminded of the evil some people have within them. The shooting in Las Vegas is not only heartbreaking for those involved and their families, it is also a reminder of how unfair life can be and how much we should cherish the time we have with our family and friends.

Obviously, these tragedies affect our entire country, but I also want to reach out to those struggling with harm OCD right now. When I was going through OCD, some of the most terrifying and isolating times were when there were news stories about individual people doing horrible things to others. The most triggering news stories were ones that involved mothers and their children, but my mind ran wild and rampant with any sort of violent story. When I would hear stories about abuse, neglect, homicide, literally anything involving harm, I would become overwhelmed with dread that one day that would be me. My OCD was so strong, that I felt like there would never be any way out. I would never heal. In my entire life, I’ve never been suicidal, but during this time, I was convinced OCD would somehow kill me. It was the most confusing thing I had ever experienced, because my only fear was ME, and I would never hurt my kids or myself, yet I felt like it would kill me. It would somehow take my life. I wouldn’t make it out. But I did. We did.

In the “thick” of my OCD, all of my “purposeful” thoughts or any thought that wasn’t part of my obsessions, needed to be positive. I would endlessly repeat positive mantras to myself, it was the only way I felt like I could “remind” myself of who I really was, but even my mantras needed to be very specific. For example, in order to get through the day, I couldn’t think “this won’t be forever.” To me, thinking that it wouldn’t be forever implied that I wouldn’t need to deal with my kids forever, meaning I didn’t want them and wanted to get rid of them. Instead, I would tell myself “WE will get through this” (I couldn’t even just say “I” would get through it, because that would have meant I was alone, without the kids). To someone who isn’t suffering with harm OCD, either of those two statements would probably work as “pep talk” to get themselves through the day, but to me they were night and day different. I would also do little things to “prove” to myself that I loved my kids. If I did certain things for them, that meant I loved them and I wouldn’t hurt them. My OCD set in very early in Easton’s life, so early, that I hadn’t made it to the government center yet to purchase his birth certificate. For a while I thought, “you didn’t get his birth certificate yet because you wish he wasn’t here” which is when I decided that, obviously, IF I went and got his birth certificate that would mean I wanted him and my OCD would be cured (spoiler alert: I DID get the birth certificate and no, that didn’t heal me).

I’m sharing these memories and stories because I know how hard it can be. Seeing someone with a “mental illness” plastered all over the news for a mass shooting, fearing what this means for you. I can picture the wheels in your head turning, “He had a mental illness…I have a mental illness too!” I’m here to lovingly request that you change your thinking. Right.This.Instant. You see, I thought like that. I would constantly look for similarities between myself and whoever was doing awful things instead of recognizing our polarizing differences. My mind was betraying me, every second of every day. My brain was breaking my heart over and over again.

Here’s the truth, there are many people who have (a wide variety of different) mental illnesses that are capable of getting so sick that they do hurt people. There are also many people without mental illnesses that make unthinkable choices, unfortunately, we cannot always answer why people do what they do. But in all of this, there is something that is certain: people with OCD don’t hurt people. OCD is tied to anxiety. Anxiety takes what you care about most and puts it in the worst case scenario. In my case, I cared so much about my newborn that the second that my brain felt like he was being threatened (by me), it went into overdrive to try to figure out why and began to steadily raise my anxiety in order to keep the baby safe. As long as my anxiety was high, Easton could stay safe. OCD put those fears on repeat. I was a “broken record” of horrible thoughts. The thoughts became so automatic and uncontrollable, I started believing that if I couldn’t stop the thoughts, I must want them. If I wanted them, I must agree with them, and if I agree with them, I must be capable of acting on them. None of this, however, was true. Statistically, there was a 0% chance that I would ever hurt my kids (numerous professionals and literature on the subject have assured me of this). Underneath it all, OCD was about the obsession of protecting my kids. When my brain felt they were in danger, it globbed onto those thoughts in order to “figure them out” and find a meaning. However, there was never and will never be a meaning. I thought something weird and horrible. That’s it. It was a weird thought that I became obsessed with.

I really feel for people suffering with harm OCD right now. It is the worst feeling in the world to see your biggest fears plastered all over your T.V. and internet. My biggest advice right now, however, would be to look for the differences, not the similarities between yourself and whoever is worrying you. One of my most intrusive thoughts happened after every time my therapist would reassure me that I was okay and my kids would be safe. I would think, “What if she’s wrong, what if I prove her and everyone else wrong and hurt someone?” This was always immediately followed by a surge of fear along with the immediate thought of, “What the heck is wrong with you, why would you ever WANT to prove them wrong!?” And THAT my friends, is why OCD is so hard, so crippling, so debilitating. There is a constant tug-of-war with your thoughts and it begins to feel next to impossible to differentiate them from each other. For a solid 4 months, I lived my life on complete “auto-pilot”, never doing the things that my mind was saying, but instead relying on my natural instincts to lead me through the darkness.

So please, if any recent events are triggering you or scaring you, reach out to someone. Bad people aren’t scared of being bad. Evil people don’t have a terrible thought, then spend the next year in therapy and on medication because of it. People don’t just “snap.” Things don’t just happen out of the blue. Please don’t let people who have done horrible things keep winning and scare you, they aren’t you. Focus on your life, your family, your story, your healing.

Much Love!

Chels

7 thoughts on “OCD: Harm Was My Obsession, Not My Reality

  1. Hi Chelsea – my name is Catherine and I'm a reporter with HuffPost Parents. I came across your blog in doing some research for a story I'm working on on postpartum OCD and am wondering if you'd be willing to connect about your experience and writing on the topic. If so, please email me at: catherine.pearson@huffpost.com. Thank you!

    Like

  2. Thank you so much for being so brave.

    While I consider myself a strong person, proud of my ability to work hard for what I want, Harm/PP OCD after the birth of my baby girl turned everything I thought about myself upside down.

    Your sentiment that your brain kept breaking your heart made me tear up. It's exactly what I felt. Or as I told my husband, “My brain hates me and wants to torture me.” A neverending horror show indeed. I also had to scour the internet to find out more information. Thank goodness for people like you, who suffering mommies hope and can assure them that no, they are not crazy. πŸ™‚

    You are by no means a “snowflake”.

    Liked by 1 person

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