A lot of people misuse the term "OCD" (Obsessive-compulsive disorder), associating it with individuals who take neatness and efficiency more seriously than the average human being. Like, for example, when someone is very particular about the arrangement of documents on the desk or on the filing cabinet. Everything in a specific order, everything in its place.
When someone makes a fuss over arranging clothes in the closet by garment type or by color, they get labeled as OCD. When someone makes it a point to neatly stack boxes filled with items--pre-sorted and labeled according to a well-defined system, they are OCD. Let me tell you this, people. It's not OCD. It's called being organized. It's efficiency. Arrangements like that save you the time and hassle of rummaging through items all over the place to find just one tiny thing. It saves you the frustration of having to rearrange things after you've brought a human tornado into the storage shed.
It's not OCD. It's being smart.
The quirks I've previously mentioned--that's cute to real OCD sufferers. So cute, it's insulting. I've seen a classmate in high school who struggled to pull his shit together because it took forever for him to arrange things exactly how he wanted it. There had to be a specific number of books on a particular stack, arranged at a perfect angle. He counted his steps from the classroom to the watercooler, and if he'd counted wrongly, or they didn't add up to the number he wanted, he would start over. The same thing would happen when he climbed up or down staircases. Specific number of steps, and landing on a specific foot. Get it wrong? Start the hell over.
It's stressful. It's disruptive. It takes a lot of energy and time. The worst thing is, it's uncontrollable. OCD consumes every fiber of your being. Your mind is dominated by the obsessions, and you are constantly compelled to act on it day and night. A slave whipped by a merciless master.
I know how it feels like, because I have it too--in the form of trichotillomania. Obsessive hair-plucking. It began when I was 12. That was when the bullying I got from my classmates was at its worst. One day, my hand just started to wander absently, combing through my thick mane of hair, when I suddenly felt an odd strand somewhere at the back of my head. My mind dictated that the single strand did not fit with the rest of the crowd, and therefore had to be 'weeded' out.
And so I did.
That single strand led to more strands. Always at that same area on my scalp. Whenever I tugged at the hair within that region, there was this overwhelming tension--that mental itch in desperate need of a scratching--and it would only be relieved by plucking the offending strand of hair by the roots. I never pull out hair by the clumps. It's always strand by single strand. A part of me would panic and tell me "You're going to go bald", but the stubborn little shit that was also me would claim that it was harmless. Just a single strand of hair, and nothing more.
I would pluck and pluck. Always when I am by myself during my quiet time. I just plucked out a few strands as I am typing out this post. It's an automatic thing, and I can't stop it. I have a bald spot about two inches long and an inch wide on my scalp. Surrounding that spot is a growth of new hair that feels like the stubble on a guy's chin. I found that out when I used a mirror to view the back of my head a couple of days ago.
Often, I would consciously try to stop myself from plucking. It would work for a short period of time before my fingers would start again with a flourish. The spot can still be hidden for now, but with the increasing level of stress, the deforestation is happening at a more rapid rate. It wouldn't be long before it finally starts to show.
Zam Zam Hair Oil helps the regrowth. It works fast too. Sadly though, I still can't leave my hair alone. The struggle is real. This is the dark side of me. The obsessive-compulsive side of me. And this is why I do not use the term lightly. It hits too close to home.
And so I did.
That single strand led to more strands. Always at that same area on my scalp. Whenever I tugged at the hair within that region, there was this overwhelming tension--that mental itch in desperate need of a scratching--and it would only be relieved by plucking the offending strand of hair by the roots. I never pull out hair by the clumps. It's always strand by single strand. A part of me would panic and tell me "You're going to go bald", but the stubborn little shit that was also me would claim that it was harmless. Just a single strand of hair, and nothing more.
I would pluck and pluck. Always when I am by myself during my quiet time. I just plucked out a few strands as I am typing out this post. It's an automatic thing, and I can't stop it. I have a bald spot about two inches long and an inch wide on my scalp. Surrounding that spot is a growth of new hair that feels like the stubble on a guy's chin. I found that out when I used a mirror to view the back of my head a couple of days ago.
Often, I would consciously try to stop myself from plucking. It would work for a short period of time before my fingers would start again with a flourish. The spot can still be hidden for now, but with the increasing level of stress, the deforestation is happening at a more rapid rate. It wouldn't be long before it finally starts to show.
Zam Zam Hair Oil helps the regrowth. It works fast too. Sadly though, I still can't leave my hair alone. The struggle is real. This is the dark side of me. The obsessive-compulsive side of me. And this is why I do not use the term lightly. It hits too close to home.
