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scrupulosity-comics · 1 year

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hey is racism one of your obsessions? also white and ocd. if it is, how u cope with it? i'm really afraid all the time to hurt my loved ones who are black people, and they're the majority of my loved ones. and how do u identify whats racism from whats an intrusive thought?

Most of my race-related OCD is abstract stuff like “if I move out of my parents’ house and try to live my own life outside of their control, I will have to find somewhere I can afford to pay rent, which will probably mean moving into a low-income neighborhood, which would mean inadvertently helping to gentrify the community, which would gradually push the original residents out of their homes and disrupt community ties and support systems and creating housing insecurity, so therefore I can’t move out or move on”.

I think that’s just part of a larger existential terror that I can only ever make the world worse by living in it—a net harm to the universe, molecule by misspent molecule.

I have been letting this ask sit in my inbox for weeks now because I’m convinced that anything I say will be destructive. What if my answer enables or excuses racism? What if my answer fuels the anguish of the mentally ill?

The rational and compassionate part of my mind insists that your loved ones (and mine!) understand that you (and I) are white, and have likely dealt with white peoples all their lives, and are capable of judging for themselves whether you are good to them and deserving of their intimacy. It is impossible to go through life without hurting and being hurt by people you care about—always you will have blindspots and miscommunications and competing needs. That’s just part of the curse of consciousness and being a social species. We all get a little blood on our hands eventually, one way or another… friendship involves knowing this, accepting this, and committing to avoid it and then, that failed, to make things right.

Again: your friends know you’re white. They have reason to expect the best of you or they wouldn’t be your friends. They choose to have you in their lives; trust them to trust you, and to recognize the difference between a beloved friend struggling with a treacherous and unkind brain and doing their best in an inescapably racist society, and a racist who whose bigotry makes them unworthy of their time and affection.

I do think racism obsessions are a particularly difficult manifestation of OCD to cope with because they’re hard to discuss at all without feeling like you’re implicitly asking for absolution. With other types of OCD, it’s common to seek reassurance that what you’re obsessively afraid of isn’t true—but what feels more racist than asking someone to reassure you that you’re not racist…? LMAO.

They say the “cure” to OCD, such as it is, is just to learn how to embrace the existential horror of uncertainty. Tall fucking order. Hell on Earth! But in a bizarre way I have found the rhetoric that “everyone is unconsciously and incurably racist” to be unexpectedly helpful… there is no total psychological purging and mental purification we can undergo, no amount of ritual self-flagellation that will drive the demons out, no pristine state we can aspire to and hate ourselves for soiling. Only mundane everyday commitments to compassion and empathy and solidarity and cleaning up our messes. But even then, a thought isn’t a mess. A thought I’d not a thing that happened or a choice you made. It doesn’t represent an alternate timeline branching off into a parallel universe where you have acted on it and hurt people.

Earlier this year I was playing a video game—during my lunch break I got to wondering what happened if you failed a skill check that I had passed in my own playthough, so I looked up a clip on YouTube and was so triggered by the answer (the player character calls his companion a racial slur in the heat of the moment, without meaning to, even if you’ve played him as a committed anti-racist) that I immediately spiraled and was close to throwing up in the broom closet, and when I got home I opened my own save and tried to make the player character kill himself as catharsis. It was an incredibly unreasonable guilt response to a completely fictional scenario that I hadn’t even gotten in my own playthrough, but in retrospect it was a safe way to explore fear of my own internalized racism hurting somebody and what might happen if my intrusive thoughts came true. It sucked and it was terrible and I was angry at myself for being crazy about it, but it ended up being a small dose of exposure therapy and practice at not repenting for nonexistent through self-abuse.

I dunno. This has been a long uncomfortably personal ramble but I hope it’s helpful. I don’t know if your friends know you have OCD (or how it manifests) and I don’t know whether telling them would help. But allowing yourself to trust others to trust you is far more useful than beating yourself up for thoughts you don’t want. I have on occasion warned people that I am cautious about doing certain things with them—particularly drinking—because there is a risk that I may spiral and show symptoms humiliating and uncomfortable to both of us, and I don’t want to put them in a position where they witness or feel like they have to help me manage the white guilt elements of my disorder. These conversations have usually gone well, and the mutual understanding to boundaries takes some of the tension out, which seems to reduce the triggers. It’s messy and awkward and maybe it limits who is willing to be friends with me, but IMHO it’s better than surprising someone.

As for determining whether something is an intrusive thought or actual racism, I guess my answer is: does it matter? Would you manage them differently? Intrusive thoughts may be an evil voice in your brain, but racism is an evil voice in society’s brain.

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butchspace · 1 year

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I guess I kind of just use this account for PSAs now, and this has been on my mind a lot lately.

I figured out that I have OCD a few years ago, and recently I’ve seen a lot of bad advice around dealing with intrusive thoughts and obsessions.

There’s that post that goes around occasionally about “taking pictures of your oven knobs before you leave” or other things I’ve seen that say to “make a weird face when you lock your door.” THESE ARE COMPULSIONS. If you have/suspect you have OCD or you often struggle with things like that, please do not follow this advice. Instead, try to accept your intrusive thoughts and move on, not argue with them. Over time, they will get easier and easier to deal with. Ruminating, stressing, or arguing with them just makes them worse in the long run.

If you think you might have OCD and want to seek a specialist, the IOCDF’s home page has a lot of resources under the “find help” tab, including a locator.

I’m going to put the rest under a read-more because I’m going to talk a bit more in depth about intrusive thoughts and compulsions. This mostly because good OCD info is so sparse on line, and I’ve spent many hours compulsively researching OCD lmao.

Content warning:

discussion of unreality/doubting one’s own perception

discussion of specific compulsions

I’m not going to push this point too hard or shame anyone who doesn’t want to follow it, because OCD doesn’t really just go away. It’s a constant struggle. I give in to compulsions regularly, even though I am medicated and have seen a specialist to learn actual coping skills. It’s hard to resist sometimes and you don’t always have the energy, the awareness, or the power to ignore them. You do what you have to do to get through your day. The main difference is that the right medication and the right therapist make it easier to stay out of the spiral and to leave a spiral when you’re in one. They still happen. You still kind of have to play everything by ear.

Similarly, it is super fucking hard to get help or even get diagnosed. No regular therapist actually knows what the fuck it looks like, and specialists are few and far between and often don’t take insurance. It’s not fair or easy or necessarily productive to try and do exposure response prevention on yourself. Your “good coping skills” can even turn into an obsession or compulsion, where you’re constantly worried about what is an intrusive thought and what is not, or if you’re responding to them properly.

What I want to do is try to give at least some useful advice to people who are struggling with intrusive thoughts.

The best way to respond to them is not at all. This is especially true with OCD, because the response to them is sort of the root of this disorder. Sometimes, it’s recommended that with depression or anxiety you challenge your thoughts. In OCD, it’s the opposite. Challenging them can so easily lead you down a compulsion spiral. (More about that cycle from a professional.)

Compulsions can be entirely mental, but I’ll use a common behavioral one to look at how engaging with compulsions can go:

You start by taking a picture of the your stove knobs to make sure they’re all off. That works for a few hours or days, but then you start wondering if the knob is ever-so-slightly in the “on” position. You wonder if the picture proves they’re off enough. You forget to take the picture at all, and have to go back in to check anyways. You check your phone a few times before leaving to ensure that the picture is still there. You take several pictures because you can’t tell if you actually took any at all. You start to wonder if you can even trust what you see before your very eyes. What if you’re just imagining that the knobs are set to off? What if you’re just imagining the whole picture to begin with? The picture allows you to engage with your checking compulsion throughout the day, strengthening the connection between the intrusive thought and the urgency to do something about it. That means it gets worse. That means you find new ways to doubt your perception or your memory or whatever.

It can eventually get really bad. It’s hard and awful to try and deal with this on your own, but sometimes you have to.

It’s so shit. It’s so fucking shit how long many people suffer with mental illness without even knowing what’s going on. I didn’t know that my constant, overwhelming guilt over almost everything I’d ever thought or said or done or maybe did and couldn’t remember was the result of a disorder. It was so freeing to realize there was actually something that might help me, and I could learn to just live with myself and my weird ass thoughts that don’t necessarily mean anything at all. It’s so shit that OCD-awareness is so low among therapists. I was never going to get diagnosed until I found an OCD SPECIALIST (bold, italicized, all caps. Don’t trust people on psychology today who just put OCD in the list of what they treat.) and went over the Y-BOCS with her. It’s all so shit that several therapists I came to with textbook examples of OCD either ignored me or didn’t have the tools to help. I told one of them I “didn’t feel connected to reality” and he kind just went 🤷.

I just want everyone who is in that/a similar situation to at least have this information available to them.

If you want to learn more, these blogs from Sheppard Pratt were the best discussion of OCD I found online that really described what I was going through. They’re written by licensed therapists, several (all?) of whom live with OCD. They’re very healing to read if this is something you’re struggling with, or something you think you might be struggling with, and great in general if you want to learn more about OCD.

Whatever’s going on, OCD or not, have some grace with yourself. Take a few minutes today and do something kind for yourself, even just think one nice thing about yourself. You’re doing the best you can.

#actually ocd #ocd #ocd awareness #do with this what you will but I stresses me the hell out when I see people #uncritically reblog posts suggesting new compulsions to people #because they worked on me and made my ocd worse #im sure a lot of those suggestions came from others with ocd so I’m not trying to come after anyone about this #I just feel like I don’t see a lot of discussion about this stuff in general and even in the notes on those posts

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imagionationstation · 5 months

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Okay so I wanna make a 2012 separated au but I wanna add a rise villain lol

basically

Leo’s raised by Splinter

Raph’s raised by Shedder

Donnies raised by BM

and Mikey’s raised by April or the Kraang idk yet

mainly I think it’d be funny if BM spoiled Donnie and you just get spoiled rich boy Donnie idk lmao

— ♊️

NAH BUT THE FIRST TIME I READ A 2018DONNIE ADOPTED BY BIG MAMA FIC, MY BRAIN WENT “What if that was 2012Donnie?” AND I’VE NEVER RECOVERED BC I WANNA BUT IT’S SO OUT THERE THAT I’VE NEVER HAD THE GUTS TO TRY-

(I am so, so sorry, this has spiraled over the last few days. I am weak. Resistance was futile.)

Okay, so, like 2012 universe but Yokai exist…

So I’m going to assume right off the bat that Leo&Mikey don’t know about the Hidden City because they’re being raised by a human (Kirby) and a previous human (Splinter). How these two managed to get their hands on baby mutant turtles, I couldn’t tell you.

Okay, so I’m going to assume Leo&Mikey meet first. Both living as vigilantes in the human world, they’re bound to run into each other at some point. I doubt Splinter would let Leo travel to the surface solo. So maybe Splinter starts taking him up earlier because he deems keeping the tike with him is safer than leaving him alone.

So they get to know the surface early on. Mikey, because he sneaks out whenever he can, and Leo, because Splinter introduced it to him.

They besties who think it’s neat that they look like twins.

And then they come across Raph.

Now, a twin package is coincidence but a triplet turtle who looks scarily similar to them? That’s sus.

In fact, it’s the only reason that Raph doesn’t immediately kill them on site. He’s affronted, frustrated, and admittedly a little curious. So he decides to settle the mystery by taking them down to the Hidden City for a Mystical Relative test. (They are a thing because I say so.)

He knows the Hidden City exists because Shredder has dealings with Big Mama. They work out deals, where Raph fights in her Nexus and Shredder gets trinkets from the Hidden City.

Leo and Mikey are in awe, but also, they had a City that they could walk freely in beneath their feet the whole time?!

Then they take the test and- huzzah, they’re brothers!

And, oopsy, the witch lets it slip that they have another brother??

They press for more, but all she knows is that Big Mama will be their key to finding him.

So Leo and Mikey are determined to look and Raph is none to satisfied to learn that, not only is his family expanding and they’re both dorks, but now he has to deal with one of the biggest mob leaders in the City? No thank you. He did not sign up for that risk.

He tries to brush them off but Leo is adamant that he help- especially if he knows who she is and how they can arrange a talk with her. Even if it’s a long shot, they have to try.

So, Raph gives in to get them off his back.

And he introduces them to the best chance that they’re going to get to receiving an audience with her- And wouldn’t you know it?

That liaison is Donatello!

Of course, everyone knows that Donnie is of pure Yokai descendancy. Big Mama would never adopt some lost soul off the street. Rumors float about but no one knows for sure how he came into her care. The only truth that the Yokai know for certain is that he’s a genius, one in charge of all kinds of equipment for Big Mam’s Battle Nexus.

But, anyway, Donnie doesn’t fit into the brothers’ physical quota.

Normally, nobody can get close to Donatello, but the minute Raph strolls into the Nexus and asks to speak with him- the genius spawns. Body guards are shooed away at the request for privacy as the intelligent turtle eagerly brings them to his workshop.

It quickly becomes clear why Raph was so reluctant. To say that Donnie was ecstatic to see him was an understatement.

Unfortunately for the loner turtle, he’d become a lock for Donnie’s OCD. And similar to how he sees April in canon, he’s (PLATONICALLY) smitten. His obsessive side makes Raph into his idol and his compulsions lead him to do everything possible to try and build a friendship. Even if that means disregarding every single one of his Mother’s rules when it comes to interacting with fighters.

Raph hates the attention, but Donnie’s their best shot.

And Donnie doesn’t hesitate to promise them a meeting.

I’m dying imaging them going on a hunt for a long-lost brother, and Donnie’s standing right there the whole time- 🤣

Assisting every step of the way in the search for himself, with everyone being 100% sure that it cannot possibly be him because Big Mama is good a sewing lies.

Donnie is absolutely a rich kid. He’s utterly mortified when he finds out that Leo actually lives in the sewers of all places.

This AU would be all the more hilarious if Donnie slowly starts to realize that Raph isn’t the perfect person that he thought he was, and the obsession calms, but then he finds out that he’s Raph’s brother and completely loses his ever loving mind.

It would be brilliant.

I imagine Big Mama to be a fun mix of self-centered but genuinely loving. I think that would be an interesting take for her to spend his lifetime using every available opportunity to take advantage of his skills and manipulate his actions… But also, she would wipe out everyone in the entire Hidden City for him in a heartbeat if she thought they posed him any real danger.

On that same note, I think about the episode where the RISE first meet her, and like, how she would react if Draxum came and launched vines not only at her, but at Donnie too. And she instantly loses her cool.

“I may have a revision to do. Big Mama has two rules. One does not steal from Big Mama, and NO ONE touches her tottering TURTLE.”

I just think she’d be great.

I keep coming back to this-

So I keep envisioning this moment somewhere in the future where the Kraang or somethin’ pose this huge threat, and Donnie (as manipulative as his mother when he wants to be, which isn’t often) is basically like “We are not making deals. I will find a way to go on this mission and I will probably die if you don’t give me reinforcements. You can support me and I’ll keep building for you, or you don’t and you’ll lose your heir.”

Not exact words but you get the gist.

He’s so stubborn in the show. I want to enhance that.

I just want him to bob between innocent and confident. His pride shatters at the slightest negativity, but he also knows exactly what to say to get what he wants. He’s a good boy, but he’s not a pushover to anyone but Raph and his Mother. He’s not a big fan of changing the terms at the last second, but that’s not to say he hasn’t before.

ALSO YOU CAN IGNORE THIS IF YOU WANT BUT I HAVE CONCEPT BECAUSE IT’S IN MY BRAIN NOW.

The very first time that Donnie saw a Battle Nexus fight, he’d been the ripe age of four years old.

His mother was sitting in her private viewing area, perfect as ever, as he stared down in the arena in awe. He’d been ecstatic to see the fights that his mother spoke so fondly of, studying the fighters curiously as they faced on another.

He quickly fell into the excitement, encouraged by his Mother’s laughter, cheering along with the crowd. That is, until he watched the gorilla Yokai pin it’s opponent to the ground and tear it’s arm clean off.

The scream of agony was drowned in the hollars of the crowd.

He feel silent, a cry tangled in his lungs for another reason altogether. He looked back at her, as she smiled and watched the crowd go nuts, and then sunk in her lap. He squeezed his eyes as shut as they could be, fists over them, and blood painted behind his lids. He moved his fists to the sides of his head, but he could still hear screams.

He could remember it so clearly. His mother turned him to look at her, peeling his fists away from where they pressed against skull. She had seemed disappointed, looking down on him. Then her expression relaxed as she cooed, “Is it to loud for my whisperous turtle?”

He nodded, desperately, as she waved one of her assistants over.

They took him to his room. He locked himself in the bathroom to sob, unable to erase the image of gore stains from his mind. He’d passed out, right there on cold tiles, and woke up pressed against his mother. Granted, he woke up screaming, sobbing, and certain he was drenched in his own blood, but she rocked him, calmed his fears, and sang him back to sleep. He slept uneasily in the safety of her hold.

He spent the next week refusing to leave the room.

Eventually, his Mother encouraged him out. A year later, she took him back to the Battle Nexus. The results didn’t change. It repeated for a few more years. The nightmares got progressively more gory.

When he was ten years old, she promised him that he never had to watch the fights if he didn’t want to. He waited until she was out of sight to crumble under the weight of relief and self-loathing, her frown permanently etched in his mind.

From that day on, Donnie made it his life’s mission to support her like she always supported him. He might not understand the arena, but everyone who visited the Hotel loved it. There was no end to the complements and requests that she received when they were attending to matters outside it. She lit up under the attention. He saw no harm in making weapons and armor for the fighters, rewarded with his mother’s glowing smile and proud laughter.

She loved to show him off. The sun to her earth, helping give life to what she’d created. He gave what she asked for, sprinkling his own inventions here and there. He preferred to focus on the defensive wear; she loved the offensive weaponry.

He actively did his best to avoid the arena.

…Until the first time he glimpsed Ribenji on her screens.

Ribenji means vengeance in Japanese. Because Shredder is obsessed with it. And Raph will be his ultimate warrior of vengeance against anyone who crosses his path. Hehe. I think I’m cool.

I don’t pretend to fully understand Big Mama. I just love writing her.

Does Donnie’s name change? Perhaps.

Though I suppose I could see Big Mama having an interest in the Renaissance. That might be something up her alley…

I’M NOT DONE WITH THIS CONCEPT ACTUALLY

“Donnie dearest.” Donnie doesn’t look up from his work, wielding the last of the armor in place. He’s down on one knee and it allows his mother easy access to the top of his head, planting a kiss before stepping back to let him finish. “How’s my lil’ turtley-boo doing with Mama’s big project?”

“Almost finished.” He promises, turning off the wielder. She’s never pleased when he works and talks. She claims it makes her feel less to his work, and he’d never want to make her feel insecure.

A hand is on his shoulder, keeping him on the ground as she knocks against the metal with deceptively delicate knuckles. “Did you add the mystic fiddeydoodles that I so graciously found for you and you so endlessly prodded me for?”

Donnie feels a blush creep up his cheeks. He hadn’t wanted them at first, but after she’d mentioned how influential they were to putting on a perfect show, he couldn’t resist a couple of requests. “Not yet, Mother. I’m working on it. I swear. It will be ready when you need it.”

He studies her face, imploring, and she smiles down at him. She lifts her hand. “I know you will, my little genius. You always keep your promises.”

“I’m taller than you.” He points out as he stands, rather than acknowledge the twist of nerves which reminds him that even one failure could tear at her trust in him.

“Perhaps in this form.” She taps her broach and then she’s hovering over him, smirking with a flair that makes him rolls his eyes. “But you’ll always be my little teensie weensie tottering turtley-boo.”

“Mother.” He mumbles as he takes off his goggles. His face grows hot, glad for the seclusion of his lab. “I’ll be fifteen in three days.”

“That you will.” She hums, brushing his cheek with one of her smaller appendages. “My magnifferent, brilliant boy.”

She turns away to examine another of his projects. The only reason that she visits the lab is to get a run down of his latest one. He loves that she has a genuine interest in his work, even if she’s not particularly interested in the construction itself. She supplies his needs and works with his wants. What more could a turtle ask for?

At the same time that Donnie wants to shrivel up and hide when under her undivided affection, he can’t help but appreciate the attention. He never knows when he’ll get to have her doting every hour or if he’ll find himself isolated for a month.

Donnie quickly reprimands himself. They spoke about his intrusive thoughts. He shouldn’t think that way. He’s not completely secluded with the Hotel staff taking care of him and Gus hanging around. It’s all in his best interest. He’s safer within the hotel than out with the rif-raff in the bar or on the streets.

…It is nice to be noticed, though.

He steps closer to her, fiddling with the goggles. “Mother.”

“Yes, little one?”

She lifts one of his weapons from the table. He hopes she doesn’t test it. It’s not nearly to her fine expectations. “Have you- have you had any dealings with Saki, by chance?”

“Oh, my dormy genius. You know Mama hates talking business when we’re together.”

“Yes, Mother, of course.” He deflates a bit, watching her sigh.

“If you want to ask after his feisty Yokai pet, all you have to do is say it.”

“Have you seen Ribenji?” Donnie blurts eagerly. “Has he fought recently?”

“I don’t see your fascination with the Yokai when he barely gives you the time of day.”

“I know, Mother, I apologize for being this way.” He says, because it’s what she wants to hear. “But it’s been itching at my brain for some time. I was working on something for him, a side-project that could greatly improve his performance, not that it’s not good already, he’s a brilliant fighter, more than that, he’s inspiring and swift and he handles himself really well, which makes since for a Yokai Foot ninja, but I thought he might appreciate-”

“Donnie, dearest.” Mother sets his weapon down, and he quiets, running the strap along his hand. “I know you idolize the warrior, but please, no more side projects. Focus on your list. I don’t want you getting tuckered out.”

“But Mother-”

“Mama knows what’s best for you.” She tsks as she disappears behind her human form, a whirlwind of magic before she sets a hand in his arm. “This obsessing is unhealthy.”

“I was merely wondering if I could see some clips-”

“A wondering mind is a mind of worries.” She’s not scolding him, but it sure feels like it. The need to plead is still tangling in his airways, kept caged by the calm of her stare. “Refocus it on what’s important. Like your fantablous weaponry! And Mother will worry about her business with Saki.”

“But you always say that I should tell you when something bothers me.” He reminds quickly, ignoring her sharp look. “And it really bothers me that I haven’t been able to check in with one of your champions. Isn’t the arena meant to be mine one day?”

“Not for a good while yet.” She warns. “Until then, Mama would like to keep you away from the fiddlefaddles that bore you so.”

“Bore might not be the right word-”

“So you would like to resume your studies, then?” She looks at him, hand over her heart. “Why, you could have simply said so.”

He sighs, “You’re twisting again, Mother.”

“Do you or do you not want to give up your little hobby?”

“Oh, of course, I want to give up the one thing in the endless hotel that brings me any joy. I dream about it every night.”

“Always with the sarcasm.”

“Mother, please.”

“Mama has given her final word. A proper son knows when to debate and when to obey.”

He nods, shoulders slumping, and she considers him. She sets a gentle hand over the fist that holds his goggles, “Oh, my dear, you know it hurts me to see you disappointed. What if you were to finish your contrabulations and your beloved Mama were to see if she could get you some footage of the latest shows?”

“Oh, would you?” He breathes, daring to believe it.

She leans against him, on her toes to plant a kiss on his chin. “I will leave you to your work.”

Mother turns to leave, and he beams after her. “Thank you!”

A smooth backward wave. “Anything for my turtley-boo!”

I like to think she’d call him little to remind him of his place, tease him about the fact that he’s taller than most Yokai his age, and she sincerely still thinks of him as the tiny, weak turtle that she adopted more than a decade ago. She’s an excellent multitasker.

Anyway! Thank you for the dopamine! Sorry for the spiral!

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