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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…
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Irrational and Unreasonable – Why You Don’t Have To Understand My Anxiety
My fate is resting in my hands. If I make the wrong choice, my entire life could fall apart. My nerves chatter with anxiety and it wraps itself around my throat. I can’t make this decision. It’s too important and I’m sure I’ll make the wrong choice. So I turn to my boyfriend and ask the question – “Which of these shirts should I wear today?” It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? It is. It’s irrational. It’s unreasonable. And I am fully aware of that. Logically, I know that the world will not explode if I wear the wrong shirt. Is there even a right or wrong shirt for a Saturday…
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The Darker Side of Perfectionism
As I scroll social media on my phone, I see it all the time – “Love yourself!” “Self-care is not selfish!” Nobody’s Perfect!” To me, these messages are for others. Not because I’m against them in any way. Rather, it’s because I don’t feel capable of applying those things to myself. I want to love myself the way I am; I really do. And I create plans for better-self care, but can’t follow through. I don’t want to be perfect. But, according to my brain, I have no other option. I’m a perfectionist, but not the kind that strives for excellence and feels proud when they achieve it. No, the…
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How I Self-Medicated Without Drugs and Alcohol
I was once asked if I self-medicated after the onset of my mental illness. The answer? Yes, but not with drugs or alcohol. It wasn’t my clarity or control over my mind that bothered me the most when schizoaffective disorder hit me like a bus. I wasn’t ready to deal with those yet. What I mourned the most was the loss of the ease of academics, the ability to eat anything but stay skinny, and some level of innate athletic ability – the things that others could see. I felt robbed. It felt like I was worth less without those things. And since then, they’ve held roles as both ways…