OCD
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There are
thousands of possible reasons
for every thought you have
For every action you take
For every mental process
There are reasons
you don't even know
Psychology
Don't worry
There's no need
It's mild.
I have no need to scrub my skin raw
No need to compulsively arrange objects in a specific order
I do not quadruple-check windows, doors, the stove, my car
Forgive me my old pen for being
On the front line with my griefs
Writing has turn me away from
Place where comfort increases
My urges and my anger erupts
I've always wanted to give them
Howard Robard HughesFamously rich recluseDreams led him to the lap of luxuryFollowed by nightmarish mysophobic OCD.Rich playboy aviator Howard HughesWith movie starlets kept himself amused
I slept to getaway.
I slept to hide from my responsibilities,
Now I stay awake to get away from my dreams.
Now I stay awake to hide from my thoughts.
My mind is swelling today
Swelling of fallacies
False foes that engorge each time a thought grows
Tortured mind
Tortured soul
Where am I?
Where to go?
Always on the run
With no road
Where is paradise?
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
The words burned into my mind
Staggered all the time, they fed way to no grind
OCD they called it, OCD we named her
Why is she here,
Obsessions and Compulsions pulling me every which way.
Step here they say or you will get hurt.
Step there they say or you will get hurt.
You MUST do this, you MUST do that.
Fear
I know it,oh how I know it.
He keeps me up at night,I never rest not one bit.
I feel it in my brain
All rationality goes down the drain
I’m tired
OCD is a monster,he will not leave me alone
You don’t need to stare -one, two, three, four- at me like I’m some sort of science experiment. A freak of nature, just as amazing and depressing as a third-grade paper-mache volcano, spewing numbers and tics like baking soda and vinegar.
Wallet. Keys. Food for work. Check.
Anxiety rises with every minute that gets closer to my shift.
Leaving my house is hard
because I'm afraid I'll lose something and be stuck out there.
Wallet. Keys. Still there.
its like an old sweater in my head,
one thought that i cant let go of so i keep pulling at it like a loose thread until the sweater of my mind unravels.
Dear Hair,
They call it "trichtillomania", pronounced "TRICK-til-o-mania". A six dollar word. Six syllables to describe a lifetime of hair pulling, all for the sake of some sick, sweet relief.
You don’t have OCD
Do you have to do things in certain numbers?
Knock three times on a door?
Turn the knob three times to open it?
Dear Obsess
Obsess
Obsess
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
Are you really sure we need to keep
Checking and washing
And checking
Why won’t you just leave me alone?
I don’t want you around - I never have.
But apparently, I can’t get a restraining order
against my own mind.
Dear Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,
You, the bane of my existence, the pain that has persistence, no matter how I try there's no way I can outdistance you.
Hi, my name is Faith.
I am a 4.0 student
I went home today, and my mother asked me
how school was.
Hi, my name is Faith
drip,
drip,
drip.
it shouts from across the room.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
wrenched down by the thoughts as they swirl.
dear ocd--
you have manifested and festered
you have begun and spun my life
turned it inside out
inside my head is a whirlwind
I was diagnosed
and my brain proposed
maybe death would make this all go away.
You see my brain ticks to a different beat as the rest.
like showing up slightly late to the lesson.
Stop twitching every time you mumble those around you worrythey wonder what you say under your breath when you make those jokes people get uncomfortable unsure of whether to laugh along
Lock, Unlock, Lock, Unlock,
Knock Knock. “Hold on, almost done!”
Lock, Unlock, Lock, Unlock
“Okay, four times... Come in.”
Your beautiful brown eyes
Shine as you take four steps
I used to think I was a good writer
My creativity used to flow from
Head to hand to pen to paper
You love me, right?
Yes, I know you've said it.
Yes, I know I've heard it and yes.
I've listened.
But!
But nothing, I know.
You do, BUT--
My brain doesn't believe you.
POUNDING POUNDING
The thoughts want in,
-
-
POUNDING POUNDING
They will be my end,
-
-
POUNDING POUNDING
They want to control my functions,
-
-
POUNDING POUNDING
All the reds go together as well as all the blues
Line them up from lightest to darkest and make sure they don’t touch
I’ll get a terrible headache and get the urge to scream
My thoughts are racing but they only go in circles
They're coming for you
Turn the lights on and off 14 times
You're gonna get pregnant
Smoke another cigarette
They're coming for you
The hair of my arms turned,
I know this collision of arms is inevitable,
Yet my mind spins like a ferris wheel gone rogue,
A correction must be made to my limbs,
Wrong, this is wrong; tears pry their way out
Mommy, look at me, look what I can do.Say any word and I'll spell it, I'm smart just like you.
I'm sorry I was bad. You hate me? Is that true?I promise I'll be better, Mommy, tell me what to do.
Sometimes I think, I think a lot. I’ve never had a moment without melancholy thought.
I ask what it’s like to die, or how one could do it.
I think about life, and how I’ll get through it.
Cleanliness important since birth
Ingrained in his head since he was a kid
Friday morning palms overhead
Leaves are looking a little long
Traces of dirt find their way to the ground
These thoughts run through my head.
Stop, I tell myself. They are just thoughts.
My hands are red and raw from the scorching water
mixed with bubbling soap.
They tell me to stop, but how can I?
I am courageous and hopefulI wonder if I will ever truly recoverI hear my ED and OCD thoughtsI see a possible future without recovery and that scares meI want recovery and freedomI am courageous and hopeful
Grabbing, clawing,
reaching, climbing,
running. struggling to get out, away,
free, from this monster
that is consuming you, hunting you, suffocating you.
I tried to tell you
When I was twelve years old
That I was experiencing something I couldn't nor wanted to explain
It’s a specific side.
The one with frayed edges where
Paper fibers are disrupted from the interwoven
Pattern of rules calculated to win points.
No one can see the perfect matrix.
My eyes flick back and forth between the pictures to remind me I am safeTo remind me who I amOne two threeOne two threeOne two threeWatching a movie but my eyes aren't on the screen
Zero. The age when life is simple.
Life in the moment, past and present, absent.
Time is a concept yet to be discovered,
Numbers possess no value.
Smiles and laughter fill the days,
She only reads books that start with the letters
K, I, or C.
She doesn’t know why
But she thinks it’s because they spell kick
And she often wants to kick herself in the face.
(She drowns herself in a lake)
First it was counting
Everything in fours
Once, twice, even three times
Never enough
Tap, tap, tap, tap
Pastel pieces of paper littering the floor
Notes, lists, worries, and more
It’s called OCD and I couldn’t find rest
In therapy, workshops, books, or meds
Poetry provided the outlet I need
Living in constant fear,
When nothing else is clear,
But oh, "It's just a thought."
Living with anxiety flooding your thoughts,
And stress entering your mind,
But oh, "It's just a thought."
Little Things
They say that’s what it’s all about.
Perhaps even the things you can’t live without.
That little thing holds back all the little ticks in my head that are coming out, oh god
The needle falls from my hand.Golden orbs still bubbling beneath my skin.Honey coursing through my veins.The sweet nectar breathes life to my lonely heart.She reaches into the inner depths of my being.
Please stop stalking me,
stop watching for my every weakness and exploiting it.
you are a slimy shadow,
a grim stormcloud.
hanging over my head,
Peace I find in thee. Your constant is my rock,
Your selfless thoughts: I stand in awe.
Within you I am free. Not confined in prison block;
But rather safe within your law.
Please, don't touch me.
But, please, hug me.
Please, make sure everything is in order.
But, please, let me do it.
Please, don't make eye contact with me.
But, please, tell me my blue eyes are pretty.
Whiskey-colored rays of light coming from the window dragged me out of bed.
It won’t kill you.
No, what you’re afraid of won’t hurt.
But you can.
The fear can drive you.
Drive you off course.
Drive you into a rail.
Undefinable
If you try to say that you can describe me you’re wrong
I’ve faced adversity and have since become strong,
The words that I write are just a glimpse of my own insight
imagine
there is a landmine in your veins
tic tic ticcing away
counting down the days
until you can look in the mirror
and see yourself straight -
imagine
I sell myself short
with these small rhyming pomes
I could make a da-vinci
and hang it in homes
I choose humour
simple simplicity
ADD
ADHD
OCD
BPD
PTSD
Depression
Anxiety
Dementia
You may think I'm just listing mental disorders
And I sort of am.
These disorders have one connection.
Me.
My mother's crying
My father's gone
My brother's screaming
I am singing,
I think I'll take a walk
My friends aren't listening
My teachers don't care
The walls are closing in
Who is that lonely girl
Sitting on the corner of the street
Who is that lonely girl
Not saying a word while she eats
Who is that lonely girl
Wearing the outdated shoes
Who is that lonely girl
I panic between doorways
I count the breaks in stairways
to rules I always adhere
and I do this out of fear
fear that I'll lose my sight
that it will punish someone dear
One, two, three-
Organized alphabetically.
Four, five, six-
this must have a fix.
Seven, eight, nine-
but I hate to whine.
Ten, elven, twelve-
mentally it delves.
it was innocuous at first.
(doesn't it always start off like that?)
my lips were just a little too chapped and
it looked bad,
so i peeled off some of the old skin.
no harm done, right?
Clean?
Clean, clean, clean...
clean...
one more time...
just one more...
twice more...
thirce more...
I swear I'll stop...
soap, water
scrub, scrub, scrub
hot, scaulding
Mom, you do not have OCD because you like clean sideboard.You are neat and I congratulate youbut you do not have OCD until your head is filled with a montage of shattering plates,bursting lightbulbs,smashing vases,
When I was five I was considered for having OCD.
To my family at the time they laughed at how I was "considered".
It's a mental illness, you either have it or you don't.
Eyes open.
Hands washed?
They are.
Clothes cleaned?
They are.
Is the lock locked?
Definetly, I check three times.
Stove off?
Definetly, I checked seven times.
Why do I feel like I have to hide,
If we are all a little broken inside?
Maybe I am ashamed or at times a little scared,
but I shouldn’t have to feel this way.
I wish I could make them accept me,
I am not broken
Because I need things to be just right,
Because I worry about the little things,
Because my fears are unrealistic.
I am not broken, you just don’t understand.
I am not broken
Sweet Supple Innocence
The press of sinewy hips
Our flesh entangled before the gaze of silver plated St. Peter, the protector
I merged into you, no longer me simply an extension of you
You became my puppeteer
OCD and Depression
What do those words mean to you?
Do you think of happiness and power or constant hurting and woo?
These words infiltrate my life, so terribly so.
OCD and Depression
What do those words mean to you?
Do you think of happiness and power or constant hurting and woo?
These words infiltrate my life, so terribly so.
There is a buzzing in my head.
There’s a fluttering, flapping, swishing noise in my head.
There is a buzzing in my head.
I don’t think you get it. There is a BUZZING in my HEAD.
I may sound insane,
but the voices I hear are not of a lunatic .
They are of someone suffering of OCD ( Obsession Compulsive Disorder).
"IT NOT CLEAN!"
I walk in the room, and all fifty-something of the people are staring at me instantly.
Well, not really.
They don’t teach you not to be small.I’ve been in a million classrooms that teach us not to get too big and make sure we exercise enough.Never have I heard, “Don’t get too small.”
From asylum to asylum I never seem to change,
Whether it is a shotgun to my head,
Or to that bully from fifth grade,
I am a pressure cooker full of rage.
No longer, No more,
My trust in you is gone,
When you wake up you don’t normally know muchFirst thought might be “I need to pee”Second thought might be “What time is it?”But what if when you woke up you’re first thought was to blink your eyes three times?
At any given moment you could ask me what's on my mind
and I could give you a categorized list with bullet points to spare
left blank for the few memories that are climbing out of bed
I'm starting to pick less and less
Each day I'm home on bed rest
The stress has started to fade away
A dying art of decay
I am not cured, just putting it off
Fluttering away life like a moth
If I could change one thing in this huge world filled with adversities, I would take an eraser and erase OCD from anyone's life. It grabs it's victim by the throat and suffocates them and makes them believe there is no way out.
Just get over it, she said.
Were these words simply a cruel joke?
I never expected to hear them
From the walking medical degree in a lab coat.
Shouldn’t you be smarter than that? I wanted to scream.
Who would’ve known that three little letters
could screw you up?
It’s like a mad scientist
grabbed you from behind,
took out your brain
and injected it with steroids
There isn’t always a cause.
It may be a product of her always planning mind;
Always on the go,
Always impatient,
Always demanding.
Because she must make up for lost time.
The loss no one can predict.
It’s not the orderliness
It’s the knowing.
It’s the knowledge of how
Many tiles coat the ceiling
Of the lab on the third floor,
How many stripes are on
The rug of his room,
I've started out the day todaySitting in my math class.But all that I can seem to noticeIs a flaw in my necklace.
You want to know why I came late this morning?
I was up all night checking the damn locks 50 times each,
looking at every faucet in the house,
tapping on every electrical outlet,
pushing the light switches,
Why am I always the one to get hurt?Does pain have no compassion?Let the fierceness of the stormCalm downCause the waves keep pushing meAway from life and reality
I can’t help it
That I must walk
In out in out into your classroom
I can’t help it
That I must sit
In the same place
I can’t help it
That I must go wash my hands
I can’t help it
That I must walk
In out in out into your classroom
I can’t help it
That I must sit
In the same place
I can’t help it
That I must go wash my hands
The first time I saw you,
everything in my head went quiet,
all of the compulsions, all of the obsessive urges, all of the racing thoughts that stole my breath,
but
you stole my attention.
Hell is a place where the mind can goNightmares exist before eyes are closed
Fear has a home inside my soul
Memories hold me captive and won’t let go
Love is a place where I feel warm
Wouldn't I be pretty
If she wasn't tan and skinny
Knew all the words to country
Like you do
Wouldn't I be pretty
If you drank too much whiskey
Drove home at two
And I waited up for you
You travel alone on a pitch black road.
Through the mist lanterns show dimly,
Keeping the monsters at bay
Until one by one, darkness replaces where they glowed
All you hear are the beasts snarling grimly
in crispy cold, the wafer moon flies
there's a loneliness that backhands this repeating demise
all the stars around me seem as pores to the sky
and my pores breathe them in like millions of eyes
Words were there for me when no breathing being was
They filled me up and I spat them out on loose-leaf paper
They were my friend, my mentor, my lover
They covered the chasm in my barely beating heart
Count the stars illuminating Vermont’s mystic forests
On a late night in June
Count the notes the chickadees exchange there
Slightly out of tune
Count the buttons you’ve collected in an old shoe box
On the outside, I may look normal,
Just like all the rest.
But inside, I am hurting,
My heart tearing in two,
From the voices in my mind,
That tell me what to do.
I can’t escape their orders,
I’ll stay up hours to burn up the midnight fuel within my core and drown out the nerved voice inside that is never content. Like breaking a fever, I either run it rampant, or it will run me dry.
