I could point fingers and blame the environment and genetics. But in the end, I am responsible for my o.c.d. This is my challenge that I've been given in this life. I am responsible for what I do with myself and what decisions I make in light of this illness. I can't do a blame game, I have to take responsibility for my actions and thoughts. And I can't just assume that I will be sick forever and become delusional. I have to assume that I have a choice, that I can be well (or at the very least, manageable).
One of the worst parts about o.c.d. are the obsessions. Ones you can't shake no matter how hard you try. Ones that don't have obvious compulsions to match. But the compulsions suck, too. Like, I have to clean up this area right now and put things back into their places. Or the world will fall apart. The whole apartment will get to a place I can't control. That is a theme related to o.c.d. Control. And fear. But just what do I really think will happen if I don't do this, or that, or the other thing? What am I so afraid of? Another irritating part is my concern over the placements of objects. Like, sometimes I'll open up the junk drawer and move stuff around until it's "right." And don't even get me started on the over-thinking and overanalyzing of words and thoughts. Or just the overall guilt over everything. I better stop now before you try to prescribe me medication.
I think I do have a part of me that can look at myself and say, look, you're being ridiculous. But then there is the crazy kristine that is lurking beneath the surface. Just waiting to burst out into the next episode of anxiety.