Growing up, I often found myself wrestling with a range of peculiar habits that triggered a significant amount of anxiety. I vividly recall the countless times I would rewrite school assignments until my handwriting was absolutely flawless. Even the most trivial matters would occupy my thoughts for far too long. Dinner time was particularly challenging; the sound of chewing could send me into a frenzy of irritation.
At the age of 19, I received a label for my struggles: obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). Since then, I’ve explored various treatment options, and while some have worked better than others, a consistent regimen of anti-anxiety medication has been helpful. After years of experience, I’ve become more adept at recognizing my triggers.
What’s interesting—though not particularly amusing—about OCD is the misconceptions that surround it. Many people casually say, “I’m so OCD,” to describe being particular about something. However, that’s not what OCD truly means. It’s not merely about being tidy or organized; it’s a complex disorder that can cause significant distress over issues that might seem trivial to others. For some, it can be severely disruptive, impacting daily life in profound ways.
The arrival of children dramatically shifted my experience with OCD. As my kids grew, I found myself fixating on typical childhood behaviors: messy hair, eating with their mouths full, slurping drinks, and disorganized school papers. Despite my best efforts to keep my anxieties from affecting them, it often felt impossible. I frequently caught myself nagging about trivial matters, like insisting they chew with their mouths closed. I’d think, “Why can’t I just let this go?” but I felt an overwhelming urge to control the situation.
Our recent trip to Disney was a test of my resolve. With potential triggers like crowds and tightly scheduled activities, I was apprehensive. On Halloween night, I ultimately had to bow out of a carousel ride with my kids due to anxiety. I regretted that decision, but my mind spiraled into thoughts of the carousel’s mechanics, convincing myself it was dangerous.
Children naturally create messes and unpredictable situations, which can challenge my attempts to be a relaxed parent. It’s a constant struggle, and I often feel like I’m failing. People who don’t understand my condition often tell me to simply “relax” as though it were that easy—“just let the kids enjoy their popsicles, and don’t worry about the mess.” When I try to convey that relaxing is a battle for me, it rarely resonates.
I understand how odd it may seem to worry about something as benign as a popsicle dribbling down my child’s hand. The more I try to rationalize my feelings, the more I feel misunderstood. My hope is that despite my quirks and occasional nitpicking, my kids recognize my unwavering love for them. I want them to know that I strive each day to manage my OCD and shield them from its effects.
Ultimately, I hope they remember their childhood fondly, despite my occasional high-strung behavior. I want them to feel free to explore, to get messy, and to navigate their world, knowing they were loved, even if their mother sometimes struggled with the sound of their chewing. OCD is a part of my life, but it doesn’t define who I am as a mother.
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Summary:
Navigating parenting with OCD poses unique challenges, especially when it comes to managing anxiety around typical childhood behaviors. While it’s a constant struggle to balance personal anxieties with parenting responsibilities, the love for my children remains unwavering. In sharing my journey, I hope to shed light on the realities of living with OCD while parenting, emphasizing the importance of seeking understanding and support.
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