#cw ocd

[gin-juice-tonic]

you know the woman in the series of unfortunate events books who desperately avoids doing a lot of things because she's afraid it'll kill her somehow, most notably she has strict time limits on eating food and being near lake water because she's scared of being eaten by leeches?

and then in the end she gets eaten by leeches bc she didnt obey the time limit?

on a list of things not great for ocd riddled childhood gin to have I think she's decently high up

[queerly-autistic]

You really can't engage meaningfully with Ed's story in S2 without firmly centring his mental illness and suicidality, because that's inherently what the story is: it's the story of a man having a severe mental breakdown and going to increasingly erratic extremes in order to achieve his end goal, which is to not be alive anymore...and then it's the story of his recovery from that.

And so much of my frustration with the way I see this being talked about (or, in many cases, not being talked about) reflects my more general frustration with how we talk about mental illness and neurodivergence, so buckle in because this got long (also I am going to be discussing suicide here, as well as very brief mentions of psychosis and ocd, so please take care). There's this trend when we talk about mental health: we go 'oh mental illness isn't an excuse' or 'mental illness doesn't make you do bad things' or variations thereof. These are, in my opinion, some of the worst things to ever happen to the discourse around mental illness. It's reductive. Absolutely mental illness can lead you to do things that you would not have otherwise done, even things that you would be absolutely appalled by, if you were mentally well. What do you think mental illness is if it's not something that impacts your brain and how your brain functions? If your mental illness doesn't directly lead to problematic behaviour, then that's fantastic, but that experience is not universal. It's not an 'excuse' - it's an explanation for certain behaviours that's vitally important to acknowledge and understand in order to try and mitigate harm.

There's also this thing that happens with discourse around mental illness where we assume that what you do in the grips of mental illness is reflective of something that's innate inside you. You were violent whilst in the middle of psychosis? Oh, it's because you're an innately abusive person and this just reveals who you really are. You have Tourette's and one of your tics is a racial slur? Oh, it's because you're an innately racist person and this just reveals who you really are. Your OCD is rooted in a fear that you're going to murder your family? Oh, it's because you inherently do want to murder your family and this just reveals who you really are. It's bullshit. What you do in your mentally ill state is not some deep philosophical reflection of your true character, and the idea that it is is something that causes really deep, dangerous harm to mentally ill and neurodivergent people.

So, now that that's over with, back to Ed.

Ed was behaving in ways that were acknowledged in canon as being extremely out of character whilst in the midst of a severe breakdown. Fang himself said that he'd 'never' seen Ed behave this way; even Izzy, who actively pushed for Ed to embody the extremes of his Blackbeard persona, ended up concerned because it became so extreme and out of character that it was impossible not to be concerned by it. The crew who mutinied on Izzy within a day didn't mutiny on him for months, not until their lives literally depended on it, because it's heavily insinuated that they were hoping he would get better. Because this wasn't the Ed that they knew (the Ed that we came to know in S1 - an inherently soft man who is caught in a culture of violence and is tired of it).

The show wasn't subtle about this. It didn't bury the lead. As well as the constant reminders that he was acting out of character in increasingly alarming ways, this was very clearly depicted as a breakdown, an almost total collapse of Ed's mental health. We saw Ed detached and numb and completely dissociated from the world around him. We saw him in private moments of despair, breaking down. We saw him behaving erratically in the grips of mania. We saw him display absolutely textbook warning signs of someone whose made the decision to die by suicide. We saw him smile and say 'finally' at the moment when he knew he was going to die.

The show basically painted a giant neon sign over his head flashing 'THIS MAN IS EXTREMELY UNWELL' in bright lights, and if you miss that, then it's because you're deliberately avoiding looking properly.

(And, important to note, that most of the people that I've watched the show with outside of fandom discourse absolutely took away from these episodes what the show was intending - they saw how unwell Ed was, they were devastated for him, and they desperately wanted him to get better.)

When Ed steered the ship into the storm, and threatened to put a cannonball through the mast, his clear goal was to create a situation where the crew had no choice but to kill him. I've seen people describe this scene as Ed 'trying to hurt the crew', and I think that's very much a misrepresentation of what the show was depicting. It was very blatantly a suicide attempt. He wanted to die, and he didn't care what he had to do in order for him to achieve that goal. That doesn't make it good behaviour, and it doesn't mean people didn't get hurt, but it does make it a very different situation than if causing harm had been his main intent.

There is a fundamental difference between 'he is doing this because he explicitly wants to cause harm to the people around him' and 'he's doing this because he's suicidal and beyond the point of being able to rationally consider who might be getting hurt in the process of ensuring that he ends up dead'. One of those is a bad person who enjoys causing pain - and the other is a deeply unwell person who can be supported and helped to recover and be better (and should be, for the good of themselves and the people around them).

And on that note, the failure to engage with this as a mental health story is also, I think, why I've seen some people get so upset about the show not doing Ed's redemption arc 'right' - because this isn't a redemption arc, and it's not trying to be. One day I'll do a separate post about how much I love that the show explicitly rejected a carceral approach, opting to essentially put him through community rehabilitation rather than punishing him, and even mocking punitive prescriptive measures (that rubbish youtuber apology speech was supposed to be rubbish and unhelpful), but that's one for another day.

The fact is that the show is telling a story about mental illness, and that inherently means that Ed's arc is a recovery arc, not a redemption arc. And if you're expecting a redemption arc, then you've fundamentally misunderstood the story that they're telling (and the revolutionary kindness at the heart of the show).

I have a lot of feelings about this because I genuinely believe that it was one of the best depictions of mental illness and suicidality that I've ever seen. Within the confines of it being a half hour, eight episode comedy show, they told a story about mental illness that was surprisingly realistic (with the obvious fantastical over the top elements of it being a pirate show - and piracy is explicitly depicted as a culture where violence is heavily normalised), and that didn't shy away from the messier, darker, more complex elements of mental illness (particularly of being suicidal).

And then, most importantly, after all that, the show took me gently by the hand said 'you are not defined by what you do in your lowest moment - you can make amends, you can recover, you are still loved, and you are worth saving'.

[kas-eddie-munson]

(This is inspired by this fic by @withacapitalp ! ^^ I wanted to do my own take on Steve with OCD ^^)

Content warning for a panic attack, OCD, and intrusive thoughts involving gore!

~ ~ ~

Steve always hated knives.

Well, not ALWAYS.

He was about five or six, and his nanny was in the other room, talking on the phone. He asked her for a penut butter sandwich, but she told him to wait, that this was important. Maybe it had been five minutes, or maybe an hour. His child brain couldn't tell, could only tell that he was hungry.

So he started rooting through the cabinets. He knew where a lot of things were. He'd seen his nanny in here often enough. He managed to pull out a plate, bread, peanut butter, jelly. He grabbed a butter knife, the final instrument, and began to work.

Spreading peanut butter and jelly was harder than it looked. He got frustrated as the bread ripped, and the ingredients barely spread. Eventually, he decided it was good enough and closed the sandwich to take the crust off. He wasn't a big crust fan.

Cutting with a knife was difficult, too. He pressed hard and moved the knife back and forth, but it still didn't cut very well. It also made an obnoxiously loud scraping sound as he worked. He furrowed his brow in concentration.

Suddenly came the clack clack clack of his nanny's footsteps, and, well. She wasn't happy.

"Steve!"

Her eyes were bulging and she lurched forward, yanking the butter knife from his grip. His stomach dropped and he froze. She never talked to him like that.

"Be careful! Knives are too dangerous for boys your age to use without a grown-up! You could have hurt yourself," she set the knife far away on the table, as though its mere proximity was a threat, and crouched down to look at him at his level.

He still felt frozen as he nodded and mumbled apologies.

When Steve was a few years older, and another nanny taught him how to use a knife safely, he was always careful with it. He never cut towards his fingers, as instructed, and he turned the sharp part away from his plate when he set it down, just to be extra safe.

When puberty hit, he taught himself to shave. It was an ordeal, but a necessary one. He worked slowly and carefully. He made sure to push the razor to the very back of the shelf above the skink when he was done, so it was less likely to fall and cut his hands.

Then the upside down happened. He wouldn't notice until years later that his distaste for sharp objects was getting worse. He always made sure to grip the bat tightly when he held it. To be hyperaware of where it was, where it was pointing.

Then he was at work. It was a normal day, until it wasn't, and then he was in the boathouse. He was up against a wall. And there was glass. Sharp. Ragged.

Pressed into his neck.

Dangerous.

And his heart was pounding and he was pushing his head as hard against the wall as was humanly possible and his friends were talking in the background but he could hardly tell what they were even saying because, somewhere in the back of his mind, a dangerous voice whispered, move forward.

He blinked hard. Pushed even further away. What the hell was that? Did he have a death wish or something?

Then Eddie pulled back. And Steve had to shake it off and get back to business.

The next few days passed in a blur of adrenaline and fear. Vecna was dead, but Max was hurt so bad, and Eddie barely made it out alive, and Steve, wracked with guilt that maybe they'd be okay if he had done something different, guarded their hospital beds like he needed the air in those stuffy rooms to breathe.

He didn't sleep much, or eat much, or bathe much, for about four days, until Eddie woke up.

He hated it in there, as much as he knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere else in that moment. Too many sharp things. He often found his gaze drifting to the IV cords inserted into the crook of Max's elbow and the back of Eddie's hand respectively, and he'd clench his fists thinking about the needle.

It was day four when he was doing this, half-eaten cafeteria food to his right from Robin, that he found his gaze once again drawn to Eddie's IV.

Yank it out.

Steve wanted to leave the room. He shook his head a little. Blinked hard. Tried to dismiss the weird thought.

Why did he think that? What if he did that on accident? He didn't want to hurt Eddie. Never, even if he hadn't fought so hard to get him here, would he want to hurt him.

That's when Eddie finally blinked his eyes open and woke up.

They had a tearful reunion. Steve reassured him that the others were okay, that Vecna was gone. He walkied Dustin and the kids in Max's room to come over, and they crowded around him, with hugs and tears in their eyes.

Steve stood on the other side of the room to give them space. He smiled fondly as he watched them catch up. He almost bumped into a poll attached to Eddie's IV. His mind flashed with imagry of him pushing it to the ground and stomping on the cord.

He decided to wait in the hall until they were done.

---

Steve and Eddie start hanging out. A lot, actually. Steve can't shake the feeling that the alternate dimension stuff can't be over yet. When he's not at work, Eddie is over. When Eddie's not over, Robin is over. When they're both busy he's with the kids. He doesn't give his fear the time of day to seep in with how busy he makes himself scheduling movie nights and trips to the arcade.

He keeps getting scary thoughts. Some of them are... new, though.

Steve starts to wonder what it would be like to hold Eddie's hand.

Steve imagines putting Eddie's hand in his mouth and biting down, hard, as he screams.

Steve wants to nudge his foot under the table.

Images flash of kicking Eddie in the balls, him doubling over in pain.

Steve finds himself getting lost in his eyes.

His head is filled with visions of jamming his fingers down Eddie's eye sockets.

He tries not to examine the thoughts too closely. Just shakes them off. Still... he wonders. Where was all this coming from? And is he gay? He goes over old memories. He loves Robin, but it's still a scary thought. Among the other scary thoughts.

All the thoughts get more and more mixed up in his head. He can hardly tell which ones are real anymore.

One night Eddie's over, and they're watching a movie, alone. Steve doesn't even remember which. Mostly they watch long enough for something to happen that prompts further conversation, and they goof around, ignoring the movie until the topic runs its course.

Eddie is wearing a new shirt. The sides are cut open, further than most of his shirts. The angle he's sitting at has it falling open even more, and Steve keeps finding his gaze drawn there when Eddie's eyes are on the screen.

It isn't too dark in the room. They have a dim lamp on, and Steve's eyes have adjusted to the lighting. So he can see a lot of detail.

There are stitches.

Steve digs his nails into the palms of his hands as grotesque images flash through his mind, and the commands start.

Tear them out.

Use your fork like a seam ripper.

Jam your fingers inside and pry his skin apart.

Steve feels like he's about to vomit. He wants to cry. He just wants this to stop. He wants Eddie to leave and he wants Eddie to hold him and he doesn't want any of that but most of all he doesn't want to snap somehow and do any of those horrible things.

He clenches his fists harder and shoves everything down and focuses on the movie.

Steve wonders if the thoughts will ease up as Eddie's wounds heal, since a lot of them are about that.

They do not.

They leave for a walk in the woods. Eddie wants to gather a bunch of rocks. For what purpose, Steve does not know. Steve is charged with lugging the rock bag around, since his bites never went as deep and are much more healed now than Eddie's.

It's ridiculously hot outside. Steve is sure his hair looks like ass in the humidity. Eddie is sweating through his shirt. Steve doesn't mind that part.

They find an open clearing with what Eddie deems "an especially exquisite selection" of rocks. Steve doesn't think they look any different, but he just smiles. Unfortunately, the lack of tree coverage makes it even hotter.

"Hey big sports guy, catch," Eddie calls as Steve feels something hit his backpack. He looks behind him and sees black cloth lying on the ground. He leans down to pick it up, then looks up at Eddie a few yards away.

Eddie is flushed, chugging down water from a bottle, some of it dripping past his mouth and down his chin and torso. His bare chest is covered with tattoos and scar tissue. Most of the stitches have been removed, it seems. Steve feels his face heat up, and then he sees it.

One of the deeper bites is still stitched up, and he has a drain attached to it. No bag is hooked up right now, but the drain is there, under the skin, peeking out. Steve wonders how deep it goes. Flashing images of yanking it out start coming and he feels nauseous as Eddie clears his throat and Steve meets his eyes in horror.

"My eyes are up here, princess," Eddie says as he smirks.

Steve ducks his head and runs his fingers through his hair. God, he hopes Eddie can't tell what he's thinking. About either topic, really. Or maybe he doesn't mind too much, about the one.

He tries to look at him, but his eyes keep trying to snap to the drain, and he knows he needs that out of his sight, fast, before the thoughts get worse.

"Dude, that's not fair." He shakes his head, still ducked down and eyes anywhere but on Eddie, as he makes his way over.

Eddie laughs bright and loud, and he pulls at his curls. "What's not fair, exactly?"

He shoves the shirt back at Eddie's chest, fingers buzzing with something as they make contact briefly with the skin of his pec. Eddie stumbles back a step and his eyes are wide.

Steve leans close and makes eye contact. "If I'm not allowed to be shirtless, neither are you, big boy." He gives his chest two quick pats before turning around and walking back the direction they came. He calls "for your modesty!" over his shoulder. It takes a few seconds before he hears Eddie's footsteps start up behind him to follow.

Eddie tells him he supposes they collected enough rocks for the day, anyway. Steve notes that Eddie didn't put the shirt back on, but he has it draped over his shoulder, and it covers the drain that way too, so Steve doesn't bring it up again. As they chat and walk home, Steve thinks Eddie looks redder than he did before. He looks cute flustered.

Is he flustered? Steve hopes so. Why does he hope so? Steve thinks he knows if he's honest with himself, but he's also scared, so he continues to try not to think about it.

---

"Alright alright! Settle down! I'll be back with snacks in less than five minutes. If you nerds haven't made a decision by then, we're putting on my pick."

Steve rolls his eyes as he leaves the room and the kids' voices raise even higher in pitch, whining that his movies are always boring. The other "adults" chatter behind them on the sofa, as the kids crouch around Steve's VHS collection.

When Steve comes back, The Goonies' cover is flipped open on the floor, and the ads are starting up as the kids flip the lights and fight over the remote, messing with the volume and arguing about whether or not there was a skip button for the ads or if they just had to fast forward through them. He looks around, and his heart skips a beat as he realizes that the only seating choice left is to squish himself right next to Eddie.

Or Mike, but he was absolutely not sitting between him and Byers for two hours, or however long The Goonies was. He doubted they'd stay apart like that for long, anyway.

Eddie smirks at him from behind his hand as he sits down, their thighs pressing together, and Steve is glad it's dark in here because he's pretty sure he's blushing.

That's when he realizes what side he's sitting on. And he freezes.

Oh God.

Oh no.

This is the side with the drain.

It was touching him. It was touching him. It was right there. It was right there and if he moves the wrong way he'll hurt him. It'll catch on Eddie's shirt and he'll rip it out and blood will be everywhere.

Oh my God. He can't move, now. It would be weird. Where would he even go? He can't just sit on the floor.

Oh my God. What if he moves to leave and that's what does it. He's stuck here. He's stuck here indirectly touching the thing under Eddie's skin and his lungs feel smaller than they should and oh God he does NOT want to freak out in front of everyone.

He has to leave. He has to get out of here. How the hell can he leave???

Steve presses as hard as he can into the armrest and away from Eddie, scooting out of his seat, and looking back at Eddie's side to make sure it hasn't started to bleed. His eyes catch Eddie's and the man still on the sofa looks confused, still sitting comfortably against the back of the sofa with his arms crossed as Steve, as discreetly as possible, slips out of the room and up the stairs. He's suddenly grateful he's only wearing socks on his feet so his footsteps are quieter.

He gets upstairs and walks into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, running his hands through his hair, and taking deep breaths. He runs through the last couple minutes in his head, when. Oh God.

Did he look closely enough? Was he sure Eddie wasn't bleeding? What if it started slow? What if he didn't notice until Steve left and now he's bleeding out? What if he's on some sort of numbing agent and he WON'T notice until he PASSES OUT because it's dark and Steve isn't 100% sure he didn't see blood and he knows he must look feral right now but he just has to go check just to be sure and

He opens his door again to a surprised Eddie, hand half held up like he was about to knock. Steve's eyes drop down to his side and back again.

"Hey, Steve. Are you alright? You looked a little woozy back there." Eddie asks, uncharicatistically softly. Steve realizes he must still look wild and tries to shake away the crazy eyes.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, no worries." He runs his hand through his hair again, realizes that makes him look more anxious, and drops it. His eyes flit back and forth between Eddie's eyes and his side, and then he keeps them steady on his eyes.

Eddie eyes him skeptically. "Mind if I join you for a minute?" He gestures in the room, and Steve steps aside. Eddie closes the door behind him.

"Steve, I'm not gonna lie. I'm worried about you, and I don't think I'm the only one." Eddie steps closer to him and places his hands on Steve's shoulders gently.

Steve racks his brain. "How do you know something's wrong? Wait, what do you mean? I'm fine." Steve tries to shrug and Eddie levels him with a look. Steve feels his lungs shrinking again, and his eyes sting.

Eddie moves his hands up and down his arms a little. "Steve, you've been acting off for weeks. Flighty? You almost never sit next to me anymore. Basically the whole room conspired against you today. Is... did I do something? Did you," Eddie furrows his brows, and shakes his head, "did you, hear something about me?"

Steve shakes his head, very confused. He wasn't even actively avoiding sitting next to Eddie. How did he not notice he was doing that??? What else is he doing without noticing?

Eddie rubs his shoulders again. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Breathe for me. Slowly. Try to breathe."

Steve does try to breathe slower, and sinks to the floor. Eddie follows him, and talks to him as he tries to calm down.

"Stevie, you need to tell somebody what's going on so we can help you."

Steve shakes his head vehemently.

"Why not? I'm not going to force you, but. I'm not gonna judge you or anything. You're my friend, Steve."

Steve looks into Eddie's eyes and sees nothing but sincerity. He isn't sure what he'd see if he told him the truth.

"I don't think you wanna know," Steve says softly.

Eddie bites his lips and looks away for a second. "Are you scared?" Steve nods. Eddie looks back, nods, and looks away again.

"Look, Steve, if it makes you feel better, if you tell me the scary thing, then I'll tell you something scary, too." Eddie looks back at him, lip still between his teeth.

Steve feels something warm inside, and he smiles the tiniest bit. "You don't have to do that, Eds. I. I just," Steve takes a big breath. "I don't want you to hate me. Or be scared."

Eddie shakes his head and looks off into space again. "I kinda doubt my thing is the same as your thing, but either way. Steve, I don't think you can do anything to make me hate you. You're one of my best friends, Steve."

Steve isn't sure that's true, but he leans his head back against the wall. His breathing is more even now, and the tears have slowed. He thinks for a minute.

"I -" he closes his eyes, "I get these. These..." He tries to come up with how to word it. Eddie looks at him with the kindest eyes Steve's maybe ever seen, and he braces himself. "I get these words in my head?" Eddie tilts his head slightly, looking confused, but no less kind and patient. "Like. Someone is telling me to do something I don't want to do?"

Eddie's eyes widen. "Oh. Oh Steve. I'm so sorry. I, I think my aunt had something like that. Do you, do you see things sometimes? Things that other people don't see?"

Steve shakes his head again. He actually laughs a little in surprise.

"No! No, not like that. Not like, halucinations. Like. The thoughts are me. But they're not me? Like, they're the things that I would least ever actually want to do, but they just get stuck there? And they won't shut up? They're like, opposite thoughts. Like I think the opposite of the thing I want to do, and then I don't want to do it so badly but it still is just like stuck there repeating because I don't want to do it so badly?"

He looks at Eddie, who seems contemplative.

"Can I ask what the thoughts are about, Steve?"

He shakes his head.

"No. It's bad, Eddie. It's so weird, and gross. Like," he takes a big breath and continues, "they're about people getting hurt, Eds. People I care about. I just," he starts to cry again, looks at Eddie. "What if I do it on accident? What if I like. What if I hurt you, Eds? I don't want to; I'd never want to, but what if I did? On accident?"

He starts sobbing again. Steve feels Eddie's hands cup his cheeks, brushing away tears with his thumbs. He's honestly kind of surprised Eddie's still here. He probably shouldn't have said that much.

"Steve. I trust you. So much, Steve. I know you would never hurt me. And I can't say I know what's going on in your head, but I know you. You're Steve! You save people! You don't hurt them. And you won't hurt me."

Steve melts into Eddie's hands. He isn't sure Eddie's right, but he knows one thing. He cares about this man, so much.

"Thank you." He puts his hands on top of Eddie's. "Thank you, Eds." Eddie smiles at him, but looks close to tears himself.

"Did you, did you want to talk about it? Your thing?"

Eddie's smile falters. "I don't want to make it about me, but I suppose I did say I would. Do you want to hear it?"

Steve nods. "If you want to tell me."

Eddie nods. "Okay. Well." He closes his eyes. Nods again. "I'm gay, Steve."

Steve's heart skips a beat. "Oh my God." He's suddenly aware that their hands are still on his face. "Eds. I think I'm gay too."

Eddie's eyes widen. His mouth opens, then closes.

Steve's not sure exactly what comes over him, but he leans forward and presses their lips together. Eddie kisses back.

They talk more about it, later. About the thoughts. Steve isn't exactly sure why, but just knowing that Eddie knows, and doesn't hate him, helps. And there are times when the thoughts are better, and the thoughts are worse. But knowing Eddie's on his side makes it a bit better.

~~~

Thanks for reading this!!! If anyone doesn't know a lot about OCD but is curious about Steve's presentation, here's some more info:

(He has Harm OCD, so you can also just google that, but this is a p thorough intro ^^)

[seventh-district]

OCD will literally remove your brain's ability to register when a task is Complete and then create 10,000 incredibly ridiculous and extremely specific rules for you to follow in every single aspect of your life (to keep you safe, of course, it tells you.) and then tells you that if you don’t do them Correctly and Completely every single time it tells you to (it tells you countless times per day) then the Entire Fucking World Will End and then it’ll do this fucked up thing where it makes you believe that nonsense.

and then people that don’t have it will make silly little jokes about being soooooo OCD and make t-shirts with fun little acronyms on them like Obsessive Coffee Disorder and tell you how much they like it when things are organized and clean, too!!

and then you’re supposed to just. laugh. like you haven’t been robbed of your entire being and potential and been taken over by a mind and life altering disability

[snailcubezz]

happy ocd week have . These

[turtletaubwrites]

I've got the bad brains sometimes, and I hope you don't mind. Please scroll by if you don't want to see a personal/mental health update/vent.

Medical leave is over, and I've noticed that with stress ramping up, my OCD symptoms are also flaring.

I had pretty much stopped using any form social media for the past few years because of OCD. I feel an intense pressure to make sure that every single thing I put out into the world is perfect, and won't hurt or offend anyone, to the point where I will ruminate and fixate over a single exclamation point in a text message for hours/days (and often just give up and decide to never interact again), etc.

I realized lately that since I started writing 4 months ago, I've been super afraid to read fics from my wonderful fellow writers if it involves characters I'm currently writing about because I'm terrified of accidentally stealing ideas. But now I'm feeling guilty that I haven't been as supportive and interactive as I should or want to be, and I don't know how to balance those conflicting feelings without seeming disingenuous. Plus, I'm still so terrified of stealing ideas, I'm not sure how to cope with that one yet.

I've also been feeling guilty because I've gained so many followers so quickly, and I know that it's only because I was on medical leave and hyperfixated on this, and wrote so many things so fast.

I'm trying to work through it, but unfortunately my ADHD diagnosis has prevented me from making a lot of progress since I had to drop my exposure response prevention therapy because I couldn't remember to do the things.

Not to mention the fact that the only reason I was able to start writing four months ago was because I had my first bipolar episode since being diagnosed and medicated for 3 years. The imposter syndrome monster has been growing stronger.

I'm sorry for the vent. I just really love it here. And I'm afraid with my symptoms acting up, I might get too freaked out to be seen by the world.

I'm afraid I'll get even more scared than I already am to try to make friends. I'm afraid I will question everything I write until I can't post a single thing. I'm afraid I'll disappear from here just like I have from so many other lovely places because of the weight that my brain puts on every action, every word, and every inaction, every single thing that I do that could be perceived by others.

Being here, writing, and sharing has meant so much to me, and it saved me during medical leave. Interacting with people here has been wonderful, and I wish I was comfortable enough to reach out more.

Thank you for reading this. I'm just fighting the OCD real bad right now, and I really don't want it to stop me from writing and being here with all of you.

(Posting this and not deleting it will be good ocd work. Just gotta not drive myself insane over it.)

(Come on Lynna, you've read and edited this too many times already. Just post it.)

[hamartia-grander]

So funny to me when I'm explaining to my parents the habits I have that are a result of my spiralling anxiety and paranoia and my father goes "yeah I do that too, that's normal" as if we're not literally both diagnosed with OCD and our actions are very much not normal

[the-kestrels-feather]

Harm OCD is great because it targets the thing you love more than anything in this world and suddenly you don't wanna be in the same room as your dog because you have intrusive thoughts about hurting her and it terrifies you

[walkawaytall]

CW: frank discussion of suicidal ideation, OCD.

Look, I’m not a professional but I have been misdiagnosed by at least two, and I just want to point something out that I wish I’d had the words for a decade ago so I could avoid being put on the wrong medications for years.

If your suicidal thoughts look like: “I don’t want to be here any more”, yeah, they’re probably suicidal ideation.

If your suicidal thoughts look like: “I actually don’t want to die, but I keep having visions and thoughts of me harming myself or wondering what would happen if I did something entirely reckless that would undoubtedly end in my death and these thoughts will not stop even though, as I said, I have no desire to die”, bb, ask your doctor about OCD and abnormal intrusive thoughts, I beg you. And if they don’t know anything about it, ask if they can refer you to someone who does.

I have been passively suicidal in the past (“I don’t want to be the one to do it, but if I could just stop existing, that would be ideal”), but by the time I first went to therapy, that was no longer a thing for me. I didn’t want to not be here any more. But I did keep having repeating visions of me harming myself in a variety of ways that, on paper, looked very much like suicidal ideation. And I became convinced that I was going to hurt myself because I kept having the thoughts. And it took years for me to learn about OCD (specifically pure-O OCD for me at least, which means I don’t have obvious compulsions) and a few more years for a (new) therapist and a (new) psychiatrist to say, “Hey, that mood disorder you were diagnosed with sure does…not look like a mood disorder and actually looks a lot like a gnarly combination of ADHD and OCD with a sprinkling of social anxiety.”

(Also, if you’re like, “Well, I didn’t want to harm myself, but after having these thoughts fifty times in a row, I’m starting to think I will act on them”, that could still be intrusive thoughts. OCD is like…you know how there have been cases where cops have convinced innocent people that they committed a crime just by like…telling them they committed the crime for hours and hours? It’s like that. OCD is a crooked cop and it will try to convince you your intrusive thoughts are a realistic threat.)

Anyway, this isn’t meant to diagnose anybody with anything; it’s just information I wish I’d had years ago. If I’d known that what I was experiencing were intrusive thoughts rather than suicidal ideation, I think I might have been diagnosed earlier which would have meant more helpful treatment/learning coping skills earlier.

Please reach out for help if you experience any of the above — I want you here and I want you well. (Wikipedia of all places has a list of crisis hotlines by country if that’s something you might find helpful.)

[rapidlydecayingcorpse]

having very mild ocd is kinda just annoying sometimes like no my family and friends aren’t going to die if i cut my grilled cheese diagonal. can you fucking stop maybe

[gin-juice-tonic]

since im awake and talking about ocd again - something not a lot of people know is compulsions can be completely mental, it doesnt always manifest in a way another person could notice from the outside

you’ll have an intrusive thought; you’ll try to analyze it and logic it away, mentally reassuring yourself. “I would never do [x thing]”, “[y thing] would not happen”, “[other person] wouldnt do [thing]” or even just “don’t think about that”. things like that.

but no matter how much logic or reason you use, it doesnt go away, ‘cause thats not how it works. So you keep repeating whats now become like, a frenzied mantra of re-assurance unable to think about anything else. 

and this can go on for hours. or on and off for days (or even longer, unfortunately)

here’s more examples of mental compulsions for the curious: 

[angrelysimpping]

Could I have some thoughts about how the gang might interact with a PC that has OCD? (Particularly a "If I don't do this someone will break into Robin's room while they sleep and [REDACTED]" , fear of harming people and sexual obsessions in general sort of way) It's absolutely cool if you'd rather not ofc

~Degrees-of-fuck/Lilac

you are giving me too much leeway to project on these characters good god

GN LIs + Bailey, Great Hawk (I know they're an LI but I usually don't include them ><"), and Harper (they/them); GN Reader (you/your); bad medical advice; intrusive thoughts; noncon

Remember that many of these characters are fucking assholes and are not nice, please remember to be kind to yourselves! If there's a possibility of reading something like this might put you into a bad headspace, please skip it!

Alex is not good with it, at first. Tries to tell you that you're just being silly, that nothing bad is gonna happen. Gets a bit more supportive when you explain it more to them. Wants to help as best they can, good at keeping you distracted if you need help breaking cycles.

Avery hates it. Will not listen to your fears if you try to explain them. Will not let you complete rituals. Will use it to their advantage if they can find a way to do so. High rage Avery will explicitly go out of their way to break taboos. Oh, you can't spend the night with them? You have to get back to the orphanage or something bad will happen to your little friend? Too bad! That's not Avery's problem! Maybe if you'd behaved yourself earlier, if you'd accepted their gracious offers to drive you to school, they wouldn't press you back into the bed instead of taking you home!

Bailey is exploiting it. At first, they don't care, they don't even realize you're doing anything out of the ordinary. It's only as time goes on, as you become more of a thorn in their side, that they notice. It's all downhill for you from there. Have rituals to keep? Taboos? Things you have to do to keep shit from happening? Pay up, then. Hell, if you still manage to squirm your way out of payments, they might just make sure those nasty thoughts of yours come true.

God, Eden is one of the worst. They have their own routines to keep and they refuse to compromise most of the time. At higher love, they might allow you to scamper off into town for one reason or another, but not often. Snaps at you that your fears aren't real, that your thoughts aren't real. Thing is, they'll indulge you when it suits them. Oh, you have to wish Eden a good hunt or they'll get mobbed by the wolf people? Well, you better be in the forest when they go out hunting, won't you?

Great Hawk does not understand. They try, oh they really try, but it just goes right over their head. Will allow you to do what you have to, but, well, that's not really great for your mental health in the long run, really.

Harper is the worst. They actively encourage you to give into any intrusive thought you have if it involves you acting lewd. Otherwise, they don't particularly care. You need to sleep in Robin's bed or they'll get dragged away in the night? Really? Don't you think they want that? Don't you? They're sure you do, so why wouldn't your friend?

With Kylar it could go either way. They strike me as the type to have their own compulsions they deal with. Thoughts about how if they don't follow you for x amount of time, something bad will happen to you or you won't love them anymore. In that sense, they understand you. But, they loathe any thought that isn't centered around them. You have to do something or Robin will get hurt? You need to go to the parks when it's raining or Whitney will get dragged to the underground? You have to visit the farmlands once a week or your friend out there will get abducted and turned into a cow? Why do you care!? Nothing should matter but you and Kylar and making a happy life together! Almost helpful with breaking you out of cycles in that way, though it's in no way healthy for you.

Robin is one of the best for it. They help with breaking cycles slowly. They don't force you into situations that are more than you can handle. They don't always know what they're doing, but they do try to help you as best they can. The lower their confidence, the less likely they are to stop you from going through with a ritual, though.

Sydney may be the best at dealing with this, honestly. The main problem is, they'll try to redirect any compulsions into temple work. You have to sleep in Robin's bed or they'll get hurt? Maybe that can shift a little, just a smidge. Spending time in the temple and praying for your friend would work just as well, don't you think? Honestly thinks they're helping you. The more corrupt they are, the better the support they can give you. Won't take a religious viewpoint and actually helps eliminate cycles and quells compulsions.

Whitney is up there with Eden in being terrible. Openly mocks you. Will try to use your rituals and compulsions to their advantage. Will try to make you believe that if you don't do something, Robin will get tied up on the docks or Kylar will end up in the pillory. At high love, they're still a dick about it, but they mostly just call you silly and say nothing bad will come of it instead of outright mocking you.

[turtletaubwrites]

Last night my feed was randomly flooded with endless pictures of raccoons from various blogs I don’t follow.

I used to be seriously scared of raccoons, lol. I had to work through the fear, and now I can look at them without being afraid, and I can acknowledge that they’re cute, so fuck off ocd!

Raccoons are cute.

Even if they have creepy ass little hands that used to scrape on the walls, and the sliding glass door while they watched me sleep. Even when I woke up at 3am to those creepy claws scratching the glass, and they didn't run away even when I got big and banged on the door. Even when we had to walk down the mountain roads to go to school because they'd broken into my mom's van, and hissed at us when we opened the door.

They're cute, even if they are lil demons that fear nothing.

I'm totally not scared anymore! Thank you tumblr for the reminder 😅

[khizuo]

people whose ocd intrusive thoughts center around bigotry—I see you. this is one of the least discussed themes on the internet and that can feel very isolating. I want you to know that you are valuable and wonderful. your experience of ocd is valid, and I know it can be horrifying to deal with, and i'm sorry. I hope you have a wonderful day.