Health & Well-Being
15 What’s Wrong with “A Little OCD”?
Alexandra Cummings
So many people don’t understand OCD. They tend to use it as a synonym for perfectionism or even just to say that someone pays attention to details. But this is more harmful than they realize.
Writing Reflection
Since I was young, I’ve had OCD tendencies. But I wasn’t diagnosed until two years ago. Part of the reason for this was how OCD is viewed. How many times have you heard, or even said, the phrase “just a little OCD”? I want people to understand that OCD isn’t a personality quirk; it’s a mental disorder that seriously affects people’s lives. To this end, I’ve included some of my experiences.
This essay was composed in October 2024 and uses MLA documentation.
First day of middle school. I walk into my English teacher’s classroom, excited for the year. Then I see her bookshelves.
Floor to ceiling, running the length of the room, and in no order whatsoever. Fix that, a voice scratches my mind. Fix it.
I try to ignore those thoughts, but by the end of class, I am going up and asking my teacher if I can organize her books for her. It took me coming in every morning for six months, but I did it. The voice didn’t leave me alone until I did.
I was eleven years old.
“OCD is one of those terms that some people misuse as a way to describe people who like things super-clean or arranged just so” (Bonvissuto). And this is a problem. OCD is not an adjective; it is a noun, which the National Institute of Mental Health defines as “a long-lasting disorder in which a person experiences uncontrollable and recurring thoughts (obsessions), engages in repetitive behaviors (compulsions), or both” (“Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder”).
Splendor. My uncle’s and my favorite game. Three decks. Shuffle. Pick the nobles — always the same nobles — and place them up top. Then, flip over the cards. Four cards each. One, two, three, four. One of them is upside down.
My fingers itch to fix it, but I resist, telling myself I’ll fix it after I flip over the other two decks. Then Uncle Jim comes over from filling his cup. “Hey, can you flip that card? I’m a little OCD about it.”
“Yeah, sure,” I answer, flipping the card. I’m smiling, but on the inside, I feel like I’ve just been sucker punched.
So many people don’t understand OCD. They tend to use it as a synonym for perfectionism or even just to say that someone pays attention to details. But this is more harmful than they realize.
“The everyday drip-drip-drip of jokes, comments, and put-downs […] creates an overall impression that OCD is something quite trivial, or comical, and not a serious illness” (Steve). This is wrong. So incredibly wrong. OCD is debilitating. It can interfere with relationships, physical health, and other aspects of life. It’s living in a near-constant state of distress.
The way it is commonly viewed and discussed can make those who suffer from it feel ridiculous—like they should be able to handle it on their own. At least that’s how I felt.
“Do you know another word for germophobic?” my doctor asks. I shake my head, not sure what she’s getting at. “OCD,” she tells me.
OCD? That’s just perfectionism, isn’t it? I think, adjusting my mask as she looks at me. I can’t be that ridiculous, can I?
But my hands tell a different story.
“If you weren’t OCD about washing your hands before all this [COVID] (that’s okay), START NOW.” (Dobrev qtd. by Kastens).
This Instagram post by actress Nina Dobrev highlights another challenge those who suffer from OCD face. The global pandemic has made it more common for people to wash their hands more frequently or use sanitizer often, things that are common OCD compulsions. However, what Dobrev and others don’t understand is that following “a recommendation to prevent the spread of disease is different than a compulsion performed in an attempt to ward off irrational obsessions” (Kastens).
Eleventh grade. Wind Ensemble. I’m playing my bassoon, and my hands protest the movement with every note. We finish the song, and I carefully lay my bassoon on my lap and then look at the backs of my hands.
Blood is all over them. I can hardly see the cracked skin. As blood drips down, I catch the drop before it can fall onto my pants or my bassoon. The other bassoonists look over but don’t say anything, awkwardly turning away.
Sanitizer and soap have taken their toll: the sanitizer was used almost constantly, and the soap whenever I could get to a bathroom. That wasn’t the worst part, though.
“Obsessions often have a theme… Theme: Fear of germs or dirt. Symptom: You might be scared to touch things other people have touched, like doorknobs. Or you don’t want to hug or shake hands with others” (Bonvissuto).
I couldn’t touch anything. My brain and my body wouldn’t let me. Doors, beds, chairs. But the worst was my family.
I couldn’t bring myself to hug my mom.
That was painful.
Another problem with casually using “OCD” is that a person “not only [has] to build up the courage to reveal their illness; they also have to educate the people around them about what that actually means” (Steve).
Talking about mental health issues is difficult enough without adding misconceptions and explanations about what it even is to the table.
“I’m just a little OCD about it,” my best friend Harley says as we sit at our usual table during lunch. Mackenzie nods in agreement as Harley continues her story.
I grit my teeth, staring at my sandwich. It’s not the first time my friends have said that, but the cracks in my hands are worse than usual, forcing me to ask: Should I say anything?
I worry about what they’ll think. Mackenzie saw me at my worst with my OCD when I had daily panic attacks, but she thinks they were caused by anxiety. A much more “acceptable” reason, I think, irritated.
“I have OCD,” I suddenly hear myself saying. Harley stops talking, and they both turn to look at me.
“We know, Sasha,” Mackenzie says, looking confused. “I mean, we’ve seen how organized and clean you are with everything.”
Well, you’re already this far, I think, then say, “No. OCD isn’t about being organized or clean. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I have compulsions that I feel like I have to do in order to feel safe.” I look at Mackenzie. “That’s what caused my panic attacks at Disney World. I couldn’t do them.”
They both look at me, and I get up, retreating to the bathroom. I turn the water on, the faucet as far left as it can go. Steam starts to rise as I watch. Just a little OCD, I hear in my mind. I plunge my hands into the water, scrubbing at them. They start to burn, pain shooting through them. My hands want to leap away from the water, but I force them to stay in the stream as I continue scrubbing.
“OCD is a debilitating, tormenting and cruel disorder. The next time someone trivializes OCD as a personality quirk, please remember the roughly 25% of people living with disorder who have attempted suicide. OCD is not a joke” (Kastens).
While my OCD hasn’t driven me to that level of despair, it has for so many others. In fact, rates of suicide attempts may be higher for OCD than for depression. According to a study performed by Professors Turecki and Brent, up to 15% of individuals with major depressive disorder have attempted suicide (Turecki and Brent).
A possible reason for this is that those with OCD are less likely to talk to people about their distress, and if they do, they may be shrugged off. This may contribute to attempted suicides.
“Connection, collaboration, and choice. Connection implies that the person in crisis is made to feel understood and not isolated” (AS). The “3 Cs,” as Dr. John Draper has named them, are the best ways to respond to a suicide crisis. Connection is something that those who suffer from OCD lack due to the lack of understanding surrounding their disorder.
Finding someone who understands, truly and without needing any explanation, can be so valuable. I know.
“I’ve been working on a project,” my boyfriend McGinnis says. We’ve been together for about a month, and these phone calls have become a regular occurrence. “I’m working with leather. Only problem is my siblings keep moving my tools. It’s frustrating, because I’m a little OCD about them.”
“Are you?” I ask. “Are you really? Because I have OCD.” Storms, that came out harsher than I intended. But I can’t do this if that’s how he feels. I—
“You’re right,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, and I won’t say it again. You’re right, and OCD isn’t anything to joke about.”
I sit there, stunned. He actually gets it, I think, a rush of relief flowing through me. And I didn’t have to explain it to him.
“Sasha?” he asks.
I shake, realizing that I haven’t responded. “I—thank you,” I tell him, my voice wavering.
“Of course,” he answers, sounding confused about why I’m getting emotional. He doesn’t understand how good it feels to have someone finally understand.
What’s wrong with “a little OCD”? A lot.
Works Cited
AS. “The Significance of Suicide Prevention Awareness: Saving Lives.” Relevance Recovery, 15 Sept. 2023, https://relevancerecovery.com/blog/the-significance-of-suicide-prevention-awareness-saving-lives/.
Bonvissuto, Danny. “How Do I Know If I Have OCD?” WebMD, https://www.webmd.com/mental-health/understanding-obsessive-compulsive-disorder-symptoms. Accessed 1 Oct. 2024.
Kastens, Alegra. “We Are Not All ‘A Little Bit OCD.’” Psychology Today, https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/all-things-anxiety/202004/we-are-not-all-little-bit-ocd. Accessed 1 Oct. 2024.
“Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.” National Institute of Mental Health, https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/obsessive-compulsive-disorder-ocd. Accessed 8 Oct. 2024.
Steve. “What’s Wrong with ‘a Little OCD’?” Mind, https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/your-stories/what-s-wrong-with-a-little-ocd/#:~:text=What%E2%80%99s%20wrong%20with%20%E2%80%98a%20little%20OCD%E2%80%99?
Turecki, Gustavo, and David A. Brent. “Suicide and Suicidal Behaviour.” Lancet (London, England), vol. 387, no. 10024, Mar. 2016, pp. 1227–39. PubMed Central, https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(15)00234-2.
