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Post by Casey on Jul 22, 2013 22:10:25 GMT
From 10/07/13
With OCD, everyday is hard, every part of my day is hard. I have to count my steps on each section of the floor, brush my teeth the correct way, put on each item of clothes in 21 seconds, only eat certain foods, avoid anything orange or with the number 12 on it, I have to walk on the left side of people, use the correct plugs, straighten and alphabetise certain things, colour separate food before eating, I cannot breathe the same air as strangers, share drinks or cutlery, talk to people I don't know, I get crippling panic attacks, I have to separate things into good numbers (4,8,13,18,21,28,35,42,51), make things symmetrical (if i hurt one arm, i have to hurt the other to match), sleep in a certain position...These things slow me down, take time, and if i get any wrong, I get terrified. I believe that bad things will happen to people I love, and that I will die. It's horrible, it's torturous. I get images of me pushing strangers into the road. I would never do that! But even the thought is horrifying when you can see yourself do it. I have to hold my breath and count to 21 when walking past them to stop it happening. And I simply cannot take this anymore.
Some of the thoughts that go through my head make me hate myself. I say sorry for no reason because I feel like a horrible person for these thoughts. I've been left screaming, shaking, crying because they wont go away.
Up to now, I have received some help. I went to counselling for my depression, but it never lasted or had an effect, even taking antidepressants (fluoxetine) for 5 years has had little effect. For a long time, I found relief in self-harming, which I now see as stupid and a further cause of problems. When diagnosed with OCD, I was referred to Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, something which I have studied in detail. I knew exactly what to expect, and it never helped me. I didn't get along with my therapist, I didn't trust her, or like what she was doing. I was determined to show people I was fine, I didn't need help and I could just ignore it all. But trying to help myself these past few months, things have got worse, and so I decided to admit I needed help and couldn't do this alone.
Since I havent told my parents, and very few friends know about this, I didn't have very many places to turn to. So today I went to my GP, and explained how bad things have got. Tonight, I am starting to take 50mg of Sertraline (another SSRI), along with 3.75mg of the sleeping pill, Zopiclone. I know the first few weeks are going to cause me problems while it takes effect, and I'm terrified that the drugs will make me act a certain way, and stop me being myself. However, it was pointed out to me that the OCD is doing the same thing. So after 2 hours of procrastinating, I have taken the first pill, and the first step on my road to recovery.
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Post by Casey on Jul 22, 2013 22:11:27 GMT
From 11/07/13
Last night, trying to write the effects of my illness, I struggled because I don't think even I know the full extent. I get anxious about what food I can eat, for example, in case it's wrong, has germs or is made with something bad. Going to the shop last night to get food for dinner, I had a panic attack because the pressure of having to chose something that may be wrong, was too much. People around me that could hurt me, or I could hurt. Cameras watching me, knowing what I was thinking. The thoughts piled up. So shaking and on the verge of tears, it took me 20 minutes to pick some sweetcorn. That's when I realised that I can't do anything free of this anymore. Even trying to go to sleep, I sit there scared that something will happen when I'm unconscious, and I wont be able to stop it. I have obsessions running through my head so much I have now got sleeping pills to knock me out and give my brain a rest. Even so, I'm scared to take them incase they knock me out or infect me with something from the inside. That's right people, I'm too scared to take the pills that stop me being scared.
So I started taking note of things I've done today, to see if I really do have a problem, or are making it seem worse than it is. After waking up with this disgusting metallic taste in my mouth from the sleeping pills, making me feel sick and thirsty, I had to turn my phone charger on and off 4 times before checking the time and getting out of bed. I had slept for 7 hours, the longest in months. To get dressed, I had to line up my clothes ready, and started counting backwards from 21. If I don't get dressed within that time, I have to start again. Otherwise something terrible will happen during the day: Sometimes I don't even know what, I just know it will be bad and I don't want to experience it. I couldn't decide what to eat, everything seemed to have germs on it, so I settled with a drink instead.
I've felt almost detached from reality today, like I'm not the one in control of my body. It feels like a physical separation in my head, which may not make sense, but I can promise you, I feel like I have literally sank inside myself and cant reach the outside. This is the depression acting on me, but I've been fighting it so long, I find this feeling familiar. I can tell this wont be a good day.
I felt anxious in the house so went with my Dad to take my sister to a friend's house. In the car, I had to switch the radio to number 13, then 14, then 13 again. Even though it was too loud, I couldn't settle with it on another number. It could make us crash the car. My Dad knows about my OCD. Recently he's had bipolar and anxiety episodes himself, so understands. He's been very good with all my rituals and panic attacks lately. I explained to him in the car how I had to sit in that position, even thought I wanted to stretch my legs a out, because I know that if i stretch my legs, a car will crash into the from of our car, crush my legs, and kill me. Explaining it made me feel anxious and stupid. I worried what he thought of me, and what I thought of me...thoughts racing, cars speeding past. I closed my eyes and counted backwards from 21. Then again. And again. When we got home I felt calmer for counting because 21 is a good number.
12 is a bad number, however. I don't know why, it's just horrible. At 12 minutes past any hour, if I realise the time, I can't do anything. I don't talk, eat, touch anything, go anywhere. I have to wait. If I don't realise and the time passes itself, then that is okay. The worst time of the day is 12:12. I get terrified of anything. I wont answer texts, or the door. I wont type or change the position I'm sitting in. I don't know why, but it's a bad number. I can't have 12 of anything, I either give one away or accumulate another. It's something I haven't been able to hide, and so am teased for. During a Psychology class last year, we were allocated books. I was 15th in the class, but 3 people were absent that day, and so when my teacher called my name and gave me book number 12, I refused it. and said I couldn't have it. I looked stupid, but instead asked for number 13 instead. I wouldn't have been able to read the book once, or slept with it in the same room. I was less scared of what people thought of me than the book being numbered 12. But I never explained myself until now.
The rest of the day I spent child minding. This is something my OCD rarely affects. The routine I have created makes me feel calm and I am so familiar with it that I rarely get anxious. The mother of the children I look after knows my situation, but is trusting of me as she knows it has never affected the way I act around her kids. She knows that when I feel unable to look after them, I will let her know. That trust is very important to me. It reminds me that part of me still exists that can fight this. After walking the children home from school, counting steps on the way, I fed them. During this I had to make sure there were 21 bits of potato on each plate, otherwise the boys would choke on it. I couldn't stop the anxiety I felt about that, or the images, so went to sit away from them while they ate, and fought off the thoughts in my head. I thoroughly washed and counted the fruit in their pudding before putting them to bed and reading to them. I then spent the next hour and a half washing up 3 plates, and 15 pieces of cutlery and washing down the sides: a task which once took me just 20 minutes.
I am due my next set of tablets now, and although I am only experiencing a loss of appetite, disassociation and an extremely awful taste in my mouth, I cannot wait until these things take effect and I can have a normal day.
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Post by Casey on Jul 22, 2013 22:13:02 GMT
From 13/07/13
Well today is a bit of a set back. The tablets have definitely kicked in and I'm feeling terrible. The only thing I can relate it to is an awful hangover, without the fun of the night out before hand. In fact, I cant even drink on these tablets, so I feel rather ripped off. I'm dizzy, feeling sick, completely lost my appetite, I've lost 7lbs in 3 days, have a terrible headache, fatigue, depressive phases, shaking and increased heart rate, and am experiencing depersonalisation... It's awful. I don't like it.
Last night, I didn't take a sleeping pill. It's recommended you take a break from them every few days and I wanted to prove to myself I didn't actually need them. Well, turns out I do. I was up all night. I couldn't settle, and with this dizziness I felt like I wasn't with it. I checked the front door 4 times before lying down, and couldn't concentrate on checking everything else. I had very little sleep, panicking and feeling so horrible all night. I cant describe how awful it was. Waking up this morning, I walked into the kitchen to find I'd left the stove burning on low all night. I was horrified. Something terrible could have happened. THIS is why I check every night so much! THIS is what I am trying to avoid. These shitty pills are stopping me doing it properly and something bad could have happened. At this rate I feel like quitting on them because I just can't take it. Today I'm feeling bad with the thoughts going through my head. I've spent half the day sitting in silence, even though it's the hottest day of the year and everyone is out.
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Post by Casey on Jul 22, 2013 22:14:08 GMT
I MISS MY BED!
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder can develop and be underlying throughout your life, but sometimes it can suddenly occur. I've been struggling for years but coped okay and functioned well enough to be in society. Over the last few months though, new obsessions have occurred and they're making life a lot harder.
The worst one is about my bed. Everyone loves their bed, almost like a haven they can return to after the day. I have a loft bed (the top half of a bunk bed with the shelves and desk underneath) and it's become unsteady, rocking slightly. For a while now I have had to sleep in a certain position. I have the obsession that if I move during the night, the blanket will suffocate me while I sleep, so I stay still while going to sleep. With almost no warning, since the bed has been rocking for some months, I lay in bed and was bombarded with the thought that, if I turned during the night, the bed would brake beneath me, the metal support bars piecing into me as I fell the 5ft to the floor, hitting my head on the way down and killing me. I couldn't stop thinking it. I trying my usual stopping technique and counted backwards from 21, but it wouldn't stop it. I could see the images in my head, being hurt so badly.
I now can't relax in my bed. I'm too scared to fall asleep in it. For 4 months now I have slept on the sofa, telling people my bed is broken, or telling my parents that it's not safe (and hearing them complain it's fine). I haven't admitted this OCD behaviour yet, but it's causing me to miss my bed. It's not safe, I know if I sleep on it, I will die. But I miss being able to. I miss having somewhere to relax and call mine.
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Post by BethH on Jul 25, 2013 8:30:00 GMT
Have you spoken to your doctor about the effects your medication's been causing? It doesn't sound like it's doing what it's supposed to...
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