It Sounds Like OCD

And I've never been happier about a diagnosis

The streets of Cologne are the same as on any other day.

Leave the train station, go up the stairs, left, right, cobblestones, elevator, arrival.

I’ve done this exact journey quite a few times. I probably store the time I need down to the second somewhere in my brain.

The train I planned to take was cancelled, so I came with the backup. Still enough time to get there.

So why do I keep looking at my watch three times per minute?

I did the same when I went to my train stations in my town.

I do it every morning when I go to work.

Not so much on the way home, because who cares if I arrive a little bit late? It doesn’t matter. But if I am late just once to work, I will be fired, right?

In theory at least one of my team should be there at 8.

Guess who’s there a few minutes after 7 already.

It’s not just the fact that I kept waking up at the same time as in the previous years before this job. Not even the fact that the later bus is way too full of schoolkids and I’m eternally anxious about possibly not making it to the door when getting off. (Which is actually a dumb thing to be anxious about, because I could just scream to the driver to wait and let me out. I mean, yes, if I survived the imaginary humiliation in front of dozens of people.)

My brain cannot handle uncertainty.

I plan and check and recheck and I get a tiny relief.

And then half a minute later, I check my watch again.

My record on the way to my doctor today was three minutes.

I heard a church bell and was curious because it seemed a very random time to ring the bell. Also, looking back, I think the part of my brain that is running at the speed of light 24/7 concluded that this must mean it’s 9am so I’m late.

It absolutely wasn’t 9am yet which I knew because it’s been three damned minutes since I last checked my watch and it was way before 9am.

I could list you a million examples about how this has been eating up more and more of my mental bandwith in the last years, but we’d sit here till next year then.

I saw a post on Instagram about perinatal OCD.

I am obsessed with reading everything that is made of words and this seemed interesting, given my wish to have a child one day.

I read the whole post. I saw myself in a mirror - still far away, still functioning, but walking towards what was described.

I began planning pregnancy and childbirth and everything after so I wouldn’t die in anxiety when the time comes.

In those lines I saw what has been torturing me for years. Left something necessary at home once, 15 years ago? Great, have fun checking your keys and wallet and phone more and more times when you leave for work.

I also saw why I’m unable to accept I do anything right. Why I haven’t believed for many years that I’m good at my job, even though I get great feedback.

Why I feel like a failure when I can’t hold everything together, even though I do much more than I should - because I do. And yet I treat rest as something I have to earn… But I will never actually earn it. There will always be something to do.

You know that feeling when you’re doing a puzzle and suddenly a big part gets connected to the main thing you’ve been working on? That’s how I felt in the last few days.

But we’re not diagnosing ourselves from an Instagram post.

So I gathered my evidence. Now that I know what pattern to look for, it was easy to find.

All the things I do because I don’t trust myself. All the checking and checking again. All the times I sit at work, use my multiple screens just to read the same thing over and over again until I dare to complete a task… And then I sit there, dreading the moment it will come to the surface that I still messed it up.

And you know what, I don’t actually mess it up often. I don’t leave my keys at home and they don’t fall out of the zipped compartment of my bag. And it makes no difference if I check the time every 20 seconds.

I realised how much mental bandwith I use up for the thoughts and the actions to get temporary relief. And because it’s temporary, it never really helps. I know I will do it tomorrow and the day after and the day after… I just never thought about like this. The dots were there, but I haven’t connected them.

The real conspirary is what my brain thinks. Well, part of it. The one that chases certainty even though that’s impossible to reach.

Once I was at my doctor’s, I slid my phone across the desk. I’ve done this before, brought a pre-written German text so I don’t have to rely on English or forgetting everything.

She read it, typed something, then said it sounds like OCD.

Gave me the name of an institute where they do group therapy for OCD patients. Told me I can just call for a referral once I got an appointment somewhere.

I mentioned my suspicion to a friend last night. He said he’s diagnosed and it can be treated very well.

In the last few days I began working on these thoughts and behaviours. I figured since they’re paralysing me anyway, even if it’s not OCD, it wouldn’t hurt to reduce them.

And guess what, I already began feeling better.

I’m not miraculously cured, of course. But the foggy swamp I’ve been walking in since the burnout became undeniable is… slightly less foggy.

What’s very important is that my concern wasn’t dismissed. I was validated and offered options.

That feeling all the time that something is inherently wrong with me? Well, maybe there is, in some other aspect, I don’t know, but not because of this. My brain learnt these behaviours to protect me, but at this point they do more harm than good. It’s time to unlearn them.

I walked back to the train station feeling lighter, which may be the biggest cliche ever, but it’s true. For the first time in years, I have hope.