Looking Back Issue 1: "I Kept Apologizing"

This is the first iteration of my new series titled "Looking Back." Each post will analyze an entry in my OCD journal from 1998 when I first received the diagnosis. In most cases I won't post the entire entry (they're pretty lengthy), but I'll highlight the major points.

"Today I apologized to Tom for the third time; I said I was sorry for criticizing him about how he could all of a sudden like a new band, when really, I had done the same thing a few times."

Tom, to my middle school self, seemed to follow the pack. Evidently he had found a new band that he liked, and I presumed it was because someone else liked it. Judging by the entry I could have said something like, "So you're all of a sudden an Everclear fan?"

Granted the subject matter is immature, my ability to express how I felt was, I feel, beyond that of most of my friends at age 13. But still, one theme is at work here that I can only understand now, looking back.

Craving Consistency
To some people with OCD, this manifests itself as a need for symmetry. For me it was consistency. I had to be sure that the way I represented myself was consistent across the board, or at least internally consistent.

Here's what that looked like to me then (pardon the insipid example, but I want to stay true to the subject matter): It was inconsistent of me to buy, on a whim, a Third Eye Blind CD and then say what I said to Tom. It was hypocritical. How could I criticize someone for something that I have done myself? The only way to set things straight was to apologize. If one time didn't feel right, or I didn't feel like he understood me, I'd do it two more times.

Questioning Understanding
Later on in the journal entry I described planning a trip to a theme park over the phone with Leah, one of my best friends. My family invited Leah, but she declined the offer.

"I hung up, but now I am compelled to keep asking her if she's able to go on Friday. Well, more like to reassure me that she's not going. I feel like there's something I misunderstood and that we'll get home Friday and there will be a message on the machine: 'I thought you were taking me to the park?!' I remember the whole conversation but I'm still afraid I made a mistake and misunderstood."

When I finished reading this entry I was amazed at the exact correlation between this second-guessing and any of the second-guessing I do now as an adult. Furthermore, I didn't realize the over-apologizing was present so early on, or the need for consistency so pervasive. But the more times I see the monster, the easier it is to recognize him.

New Blog Series: Looking Back

"Today I apologized to Tom for the third time."

That's the first sentence in my very first OCD journal. The entry is dated 7/14/1998. All I have read so far is that one line and it's immediate already that though my obsessions have differed, the OCD remains the same as it was 13 years ago. Same monster, new cloak.

That's why I'm starting this blog series. I want to look back at the beginnings of my OCD and see what I can learn, see what I can apply to my life now. I want to identify the red flags I may have missed then, and try to watch out for them in the future. There's a big, yellow smiley face on the cover of the journal, and I want to remember what that didn't feel like at age 13.

But perhaps even more I want this blog series to point out OCD's tactics. My favorite way of dealing with an obsession is to remind myself, mid-worry, "That's just OCD." Doing that is like shining a flashlight on the monster. I see him, I realize what he's made of, and in the light he doesn't look so bad. It brings me back to reality. Understanding that OCD's m.o. is the same no matter what the obsession will help me to more quickly catch OCD in the act. I want that understanding for me, and I want it for you.

The first installment is titled Looking Back: "I Kept Apologizing," and it will come in the next few days.