I was on facebook stalking old friends and family minding my own business when I saw this:

13 PHOTOS THAT WILL FREAK OUT EVERY OCD PERSON – THESE WILL MAKE YOUR BRAIN CRY

I have OCD and a sick sense of curiousity. I mean come on now – how could they know what triggers me….right?

So I went in and I saw 13 random pictures that were just….

grrr

…..it wont let me just post one of the photos. Here is something similar.

See? In this pic? I really couldn’t careless that its not perfectly cut down the middle. On the site it had just misaligned photos or mismatched photos with a similar theme to this picture. I kept scrolling down feeling nothing but contempt for the people who wrote the supposedly humorous story – how could they post this story? How could it be allowed? But then. Oh boy but then, I found the comments. I always feel so sorry and scared for our earth when I stop to read the comments.

People laughing and saying how people with OCD would not survive past the first photo. How people with OCD need to stay away from this page, but how funny it was to them.

Still would love to know how all these people have become psychic and know what affects people with OCD.

Are all people with OCD like me? No. And to assume that would put me in same category as the people who came up with this picture or this page.

What these things do is perpetuate the stigma that OCD people are all the same.wpid-wp-1396645012641.jpeg

Want to know what is OCD?

Its  me.

Washing my hands after someone else sneezes.

Throwing out a plastic spoon, because it hovered too close to the garbage can.

Its him, torturing himself.

But for me, a snarky comment on a phone call could carve a track in my brain that would replay over and over and over, and I found it exceptionally difficult to let it go. Often, trying to move on from some slight—large or small—I would change the subject by turning my own hostility on myself.

My face, my hair, my clothes, my teeth, the words I used, the questions I asked—nothing was good enough, and all deserved withering abuse. I didn’t know how to stop, but I had a decent toolbox filled with unhealthy ways of catching my breath.

Its her, scared of any vomiting.

Each person is different, with different likes and dislikes; don’t you think then that our disease is gonna be different too?

 

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