Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD) – more than just perfectionism
It was a yes and then a maybe and then a firm yes and I added obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (OCPD) to my list of mental health issues. At first, it was a relief to know that my preoccupation with order, need to follow rules, and desperate pursuit of perfectionism were not just me overreacting, they are symptoms of a very real disorder. After that, I felt like a child having a tantrum, internally banging the ground screaming, “I don’t want it!” In time, I mostly came to terms with it and cautiously began sharing my new diagnosis. But my explanations, particularly regarding the perfectionism that is involved, were often dismissed as something normal. I felt hurt, shut down, and didn’t know how to get people to understand. Then my psychiatrist pointed out a key difference between perfectionism and OCPD – distress
Let’s start with the diagnosis
According to the widely used diagnostic manual, the DSM-5, OCPD is “a pervasive pattern of preoccupation with orderliness, perfectionism, and mental and interpersonal control, at the expense of flexibility, openness, and efficiency”. At first glance, this sounds like that one person you know who is kind of a control freak. But what takes OCPD to a higher level is the dysfunction and distress that this creates. And this holds true even if the person doesn’t realize it’s a clinical issue.
So what does OCPD perfectionism look like for me?
In both my previous job and my current job, there have been times where I would send a client documents with a short handwritten note. It might be easy to see why someone may rewrite it. Maybe their handwriting looks messy or it fills the page awkwardly, a spelling error perhaps. Driven by my OCPD, I will rewrite the note over a detail as small as the loop on a lowercase “e” being what I consider slightly too smooshed. I will rewrite the same note upwards of eight times trying to get it absolutely perfect, pages of “unusable” notes flying from my notepad like I’m a rapper making it rain. And, in this frenzy of paper and ink, what I’m feeling is not annoyed or perhaps frustrated that I keep making “mistakes”. I am panicked. I mean like full on car-trapped-on-the-train-tracks type panic.
To me, perfection is not a goal, it is a desperate need.
For me, not doing my friend a favor can feel like a life or death situation. At work, it’s like not just my job, but the fate of the entire firm I work for hangs in the balance as I weigh and write down the weight of a package over and over again to make sure I apply the correct postage. With the insight I have gained into my disorder over the last two months, I am able to see that these fears are illogical. But the feelings clutch me with a burning intensity. I will tell myself that it does not make sense. I will paint myself a picture of what realistically might happen if I don’t do the favor or a package is returned for insufficient postage. The realities might not be great, but they pale in comparison to what my OCPD is telling me will happen.
Long before the onset of my OCPD, I was a good ol’ fashioned traditional perfectionist.
In high school, I liked doing things well. Perfection was a goal and I felt rewarded when I met my standards. I enjoyed challenging myself. And I was capable of turning it off and being relaxed. I could even be a bit careless or sloppy when I felt like it. Perfection was almost a game in some ways, and I felt capable of winning from time to time.
OCPD is a whole new brand of perfectionism for me.
Perfectionism in OCPD is a twisted and cruel master. I give everything I have to it, worship it like a god, all the while knowing in my very core that I will never reach it. But despite believing in my imminent failure, I cannot stop pursuing perfection. I throw myself into tasks, but my panic makes it harder. I spend hours on things that should take minutes. Sometimes due dates slip past me as I continue to edit or tweak or refine a project in an effort to make it perfect. In some cases, I can’t even get started because I am so afraid that I will do it imperfectly.
I don’t want to be like this, but letting go is terrifying for me.
I am eager to free myself from the shackles of OCPD, but progress feels like having my security blanket ripped from my grasp. For years, I have used these actions and patterns of thought as a maladaptive way of stabilizing my world. At times, I worry that giving it up is the wrong choice. “What ifs” often circle my head. My hope is that, as my comfort level with imperfection increases, my fear of releasing my rules and rigidity will lessen. But I’m not there yet, and that’s okay. What’s important is that I’m aware and trying.
OCPD involves much more than just this intense perfectionism, but at this point it is the focus of my treatment. Right now, I’m using my awareness to identify things that maybe are excessive, like weighing a package four times even after writing down the weight on the first go (spoiler – it’s always the same). Or leaving a three-word sticky note for a colleague looking a tiny bit less than pristine. It’s like undoing a mass of knotted threads, but I’m trying. Documenting my thought processes as they happen has helped me gain some awareness. In reading them later, I can more clearly identify where I start to go down a rabbit hole. Similarly, using a chart and a reward system to track my progress has helped motivate me to try reel it in a little in some areas, though it’s far from easy.
OCPD is hard for me to talk about, but it is necessary that people hear about it.
For years, I believed that what I was experiencing was me being dramatic or not letting things go. I felt like there was something wrong with me because I couldn’t let things roll off my back. I couldn’t even dust them off forcefully. So I would simply stop talking about it. But it would continue to eat at my insides. The dismissals I have faced when talking about my disorder have been hard to handle. But I know that that will not change if people aren’t shown what it’s really like. If nothing else, please understand this – not all perfectionism is healthy. Not all perfectionism is normal. And, most importantly, change is possible.
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