Dating the
OCD Way
By Guest Author Pamela Franklin
I
was tired. It was past
midnight, and I had just
driven for an hour to get here. And I was so cold. I turned on the heater and
watched as the windows of my white Toyota Turcel began to fog up.
”I have to do this tonight," I thought.
I waited, listening to the late-night disc jockey discuss her cliché-ridden
philosophy on love and relationships. I wished she would shut up and play the
classic rock that the station was supposed to be playing. Finally, exasperated,
I turned the radio off.
My neck jerked quickly to the left. Actually, I jerked it myself, but I had to. Oh,
forget it, it’s too hard to explain.
I couldn’t help jerking my neck again. Then again.
"Nerves," I thought. “The same old thing.”
I turned the blathering radio back on. The need to move my neck
disappeared.
Finally, headlights came up the street. My heart raced. "This is it,"
I thought. "Here I go."
False alarm! The headlights passed by the house. My pulse descended to its
normal pace. Fortunately, as I continued to wait, the DJ began playing classic
rock. The click in my throat, of which I had been barely aware until now,
stopped. I settled back against the seat and half-closed my forever-blinking
eyes.
“I am not my eyes,” I reminded myself. “I am not my neck or my throat or
my Tourette’s syndrome. I am Pam, a very loving, honest person. I’m so
honest that I’m going to tell my boyfriend everything even at the risk of
losing him. And I’m a brilliant young writer who will touch the sky some day,
despite the Tourette’s. Because of the Tourette’s.”
My eyes stopped blinking.
After I had relaxed for forty-five minutes, I saw the correct pair of headlights
come up the drive. The car’s clock read
1:30
a.m.
The garage door opened and the Pontiac Sunbird pulled into it. I took a deep
breath and emerged from my own car. Very slowly.
He saw me immediately. His eyes widened in surprise to see that his new
girlfriend had waited outside his house until
1:30
in the morning.
"Pam?" he said, furrowing his brow. "Is everything all
right?"
"Everything’s fine," I said, "but I need to talk to you."
”Sure," he said. "Come in the house." As I approached the door,
he licked his lips nervously.
I followed him inside. His schnauzer and little white "yippy" dog
barked and danced excitedly at his feet as we entered. He took off his jacket
and hung it up in the closet while I sat down on the couch. I wrung my hands and
folded my arms together, shivering. But I was not cold; I was scared nearly to
death.
First, he petted his excited dogs in order to calm them. Then he turned to me,
his head tilting with curiosity. He sat down with me on the couch and asked,
"What's the matter?"
"I have something I need to tell you, and I didn’t want to wait until
tomorrow, since I have my courage up now," I said. I knew that I was
speaking too fast, but I couldn’t slow down.
He gazed at me so intensely that I shrank away from him. "Tell me," he
said.
"I’m not exactly sure how to say this," I said, resisting the urge
to run out the door. He sat there, silently waiting for me to continue.
"I – I have these disorders," I explained, "They’re called
OCD and Tourette’s."
He looked puzzled.
“Oh, God!” I thought. “Now I have to explain them.”
"OCD is obsessive-compulsive disorder,” I said out loud. “Sometimes I
get these thoughts in my mind that are kind-of unrealistic or that bother me.”
“Obsessions?”
“Yes. Like when I'm doing something like folding laundry. I’ll start
thinking that I have to fold a dress or a skirt in a certain way or something
bad will happen to me."
He raised his eyebrows, "What do you mean something bad will happen to
you?"
“Well for instance, if I’m really excited about, say, going on vacation.
Sometimes I’ll be ironing and then I’ll start telling myself that, if I
don’t fold this dress just so, then something will happen so I can’t go on
vacation."
He was silent for a moment. “Can't you just tell yourself it's not true?"
I sighed. "I wish it were that easy, but OCD is a chemical imbalance.
It’s something I was born with. I mean, you wouldn’t tell a person with
diabetes to ‘just get over it,’ would you? They have to take medication.
It’s the same with OCD.”
“So, an obsession is a thought you can’t help having? Like some people can
be obsessed with sex?”
“Actually, that’s not a good example because thinking about sex is usually
fun. An obsession is something you’d rather not think about.”
“OK, so an obsession is a thought you can’t help having, and you don’t
want to have it. What’s a compulsion?”
"A compulsion is whatever I actually do to stop my obsessive thoughts, or
at least put them off for a while. For instance, one of the things I used to
obsess about was tearing toilet paper perfectly along the ridges. If I didn't, I
felt like something bad would happen. So I used to keep tearing the paper over
and over until I thought it was just right.
“The compulsion was when I acted on the obsession and tore the toilet paper.
My psychiatrist called it a ‘repetitive behavior’ but, to me, it just was
important to keep doing it until I got it right."
“Does the same medication help you control your obsessions as your
compulsions, or do you have to take two medications?"
"The same medication stops both of them."
"Does it completely stop them or just tone them down?"
"For the most part it stops them, but sometimes it's difficult. Like, if I
get nervous, my symptoms sometimes get worse despite the medicine. The
Tourette’s symptoms get worse with tension too.”
He nodded his head. "Tell me about the Tourette’s. Isn't that the
disorder that makes people yell swear words at inopportune times?"
“Is there an opportune time for swearing?” I asked, smiling. He laughed.
"Well,” I said, “I have heard that some Tourette’s sufferers swear at
the police or at other important people, and they can’t help it, but
fortunately I don't. I have what I call a twitch collection. From the time I was
little I used to collect various twitches such as jerking my head, cracking my
jaw, and making various sounds. Maybe you’ve heard me make funny noises."
He looked at me steadily for a moment before answering. "Well, I guess I
have heard you making some funny noises. I just didn’t pay much
attention."
"Most people ignore it, but at times somebody will look at me odd."
Then it occurred to me that he looked relieved. I couldn’t believe it.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said. “In fact, it’s wonderful!”
My eyes popped wide open. "You think it’s wonderful that I have OCD and
Tourette’s?"
"Yes, I do. I thought you were going to tell me you're pregnant."
Back To Top
Home Page
|
Will I Go
Crazy?