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If you’ve never met someone with OCD before it can be confusing when you first hangout with them. It can be really rough for the person with OCD to have people questioning them about why they’re doing something or why they’re asking you to do something you think is weird. It’s okay to ask questions about the disorder and their compulsions or whatever, but it’s not okay to question the disorder itself, and it’s definitely not okay to ask the person if they’re joking.
A lot of people see OCD as a disorder revolving around organization, color coordination, etc. This can be part of it for some people, but for many people that is not the case. And for people who do obsess over those things, it’s not quirky. It’s not being a clean freak. It’s a disorder that takes time out of their life and is constantly nagging at them.
For most people, however, that isn’t part of it. I’m one of the messiest people you will ever meet and in no way fit the stereotype. That doesn’t make my disorder any less torturous or valid. So please, be understanding of the disorder and respectful of how difficult it can be for those struggling with it.
So when I turn the ac dial in your car back and forth eight times, be patient with me. When I turn to look at something and then have to do a full 360 a couple times, be patient with me. If I ask you to please stir your straw six times counterclockwise, be patient with me.
It may be difficult to understand, but please try your best to be accommodating. It may be a bit rough for you; it may get in the way sometimes. If you ever get aggravated at our compulsions, please try to remember how hard it is for us. We hate it too.
Been overwhelmed with guilt about this for almost a week now.
What people don’t understand about abusive parents is that we can’t always hate them. We can’t just constantly hate them because a lot of them are quite nice half the time. It makes it hard to hate them because it’s like “they’ve been horrible to me but they treated me to a present yesterday or a cute little chocolate bar so I’d me rude to hate them because of what they’ve done for me” and it’s destroys your mind because then people questions if they actually are abusive when you seen to like them at that time.
You can’t be diagnosed legally with BPD until you’re eighteen but I have been told by multiple doctors at multiple in patient facilities as well as my psychiatrist that I do have it and my psychiatrist will give me a diagnosis when I turn eighteen. They can however say that you have “traits of borderline personality disorder” and that’s included on my long list of mental issues on my hospital records and IEP forms. It’s honestly torture not being able to be diagnosed because although they can’t do much for BPD, there are newer things that have proven to be effective and I can’t have that treatment until I’ve been diagnosed. But seriously, if a mental health professional hasn’t diagnosed you and/or is not planning on diagnosing you when you turn eighteen, please do not joke about it. It’s really serious and has wreaked havoc on my life. I hate the fear of abandonment I have; I hate the way it affects my relationships; I hate that I never feel “mentally ill enough”; I hate everything about it. All I want to do is be close to the people I love and feel loved and validated by them but the ways I try to do that always end up pushing them away. And to all of you who think that people with bpd are manipulative, abusive, crazy, etc., go fuck yourself. You don’t have a clue how hard it is to live with this disorder. You don’t know shit. Go educate yourselves assholes.
Alright I’m done now. Carry on.
To everyone replying to my first post about BPD (that one post on my account that people like and reblog lmao) saying things like “I don’t have BPD but I relate.”, stop. I know you might get jealous easily or something along those lines, but it’s not the same. For us, it’s chronic. It’s torture. I am unable to linguistically express how difficult it is to get through these feelings daily.
I’m sorry, but no, you can’t relate. Maybe you think you do because of how I’ve put it because I’m not the best at explaining things, but you don’t. I’m sorry. You can’t.