What it's like...

I can't be pregnant.  I'm only 13.  I'm only 14.  I'm only 15.  I'm only 16....

There's no way I can be pregnant, right?  I have never done anything that would get me pregnant. 

But.  What if.  What if someone drugged me at the bus stop.  Or on my way tot he bus stop.  What if I don't remember.  What if that happened and I got pregnant.  Oh my God.  What if I'm pregnant.  My parents will kill me.  I won't have any place to live.  I will be on the street.  No one will help me.  I will die.  Alone.

I can't be pregnant.  I can't, right?

What if someone jumped out of the  bushes and drugged me.  And I got pregnant. 

But I just had my period.  Oh.  Right.  Oh -- the feeling of relief.  It's so nice.  The quiet in  my head is so nice.  So welcome.  So peaceful.

But.  Wait.  Shit.  Remember that story?  The one in the Sunday paper?  About the woman who didn't know she was pregnant because she had her period the whole time? 

If it can happen to her, it can happen to me, right?  Oh my god.  What if someone drugged me at the bus stop and now I'm pregnant?  But still getting my period like that woman in the paper.

Shit.  What am I going to do?  My parents are going to kill me.  I am going to die. 

Calm down. This is crazy.  You know you're being crazy, right?   What the hell is wrong with me?  Why can't I be normal?

Wait -- ok.  Let me just poke my belly to see if it feels any different.  Does if fell bigger?  No.  No - it's the same.  I think.  Let me try again.  And again.  And again.  OK -- no.  It's really the same. 

But what if I only *think* if feels the same.  What if I'm just in denial?  Let me check just one more time.  Ouch.  Do you bruise more when you're pregnant?  Why is my belly all covered in bruises? Does that mean I'm pregnant?

OMG.  I was just watching TV and saw a pregnant 15 year-old.  Is that a sign?  What if God was using that TV show to tell me I'm pregnant?

I can't be pregnant.  My parents will kill me.  I will be alone.  I will die.

THINK.  THINK about every walk to and from the bus stop.  Did anyone stop and drug me?  What if they did?  THINK.  I have to watch.  Every second.  I have to watch.  I have to remember every walk to and from the bus so I will know if someone drugged me.  God.  I'm so tired.  I'm so scared.

OK -- I got my period again.  I can't be pregnant, right?  I had horrible cramps.  You don't have horrible cramps when you're pregnant, right?  Let me look in that medical book on the shelf in the living room.  It doesn't say anything.  Shit.  I wonder if the school library has a book that will tell me if you can have your period and cramps and still be pregnant.  I will check.  But -- what if someone sees me?  And they find out what I'm reading?  Will they find out?  And take me to the doctor?  No.  No.  Please -- I can't go to the doctor.  He will tell me that I'm pregnant.  I can't be pregnant.

My parents will kill me.  I will die.

Let me poke my belly some more.  Does it still feel the same?  I'm not sure.  Keep poking.  Keep poking.  It hurts.  The bruises.  Keep poking.  Just to check.  Just to make sure.  Everything feels the same!  I'm not pregnant!!  Oh -- thank God!!!! 

The relief.  It feels so good.  It's so quiet in my head now.  I can sleep.  I can rest.  The peace is so nice.  Thank God.

The novel.  There was a pregnant 17 year-old.  She knew she was pregnant but she hid it from everyone.  I already know I'm crazy.  What if I'm SO crazy that I'm in denile.  About being pregnant.  What if that novel was a sign from God.  Telling me I'm pregnant.  God wants me to stop the denial and just tell everyone that I'm pregnant.

I can't be pregnant.  Right?  Most people don't get drugged and raped on the way to the bus stop, right? 

But, still.  It could happen.  What if it happened to me?  What if I'm pregnant?  I will die. I don't want to die.  I don't want to be all alone.  I'm so tired.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

What is that spot?  Over there.  On the passenger side.  By the window.   Oh my god.  I just touched it.  What was it?!? 

It was wet and dark. 

What if it was blood?   What if the valet was bleeding and the blood got all the way over on the passenger side?  

I touched it.  Oh shit.  What if it was blood and the valet had HIV?  Oh shit.  What if the valet had HIV and now I have HIV.  Oh my god.  I can't have HIV.  Everyone will leave me. 

I will die.  Alone.

OK -- check.  Check your finger?  Was there any open skin?  Ask.  Ask Rich.  Is there any open skin here? 

No.

Oh -- good.  Relief.  It feels so good. It's so quiet again.

But.  What if he just didn't see?  Rich.  Please.  Check again.  Please?

I'm sorry. 

OK.  We're home.  I need the magnifying glass.  Please.  Please just look through the magnifying glass?  I know I'm crazy.

I'm sorry.

I'm going to die.  Alone.  Everyone will leave.  I'm crazy and now I have HIV.

I'm sorry.

The magnifying glass shows no broken skin. 

I think.

Let me get out of bed just to make sure.  One more time.  Just to check.  Where's that flashlight?  The really bright one?  Maybe I can see better with that one.

I think it's OK, but I'm not sure.

What if it was blood?  And the valet had HIV?  And I touched it.  I'm going to die.  Alone.  I'm going to die. 

Peace and quiet.  Why can't I find any peace and quiet?  It's so loud. 

Please Rich?  Please just look one more time?  Are you sure?  I think I see a small cut

I know I'm crazy.  Please.  Are you going to leave?  I don't want to be left.  I don't to die.

OK.  I'm a scientist.  I know that HIV is a fragile virus.  It can't live long outside the body.  There's no way that, even it it was blood, and even if the valet had HIV --- there's no way it could live long enough to infect me.  Right?

Google. 

All day.  Google.  It tells me I'm right.  HIV doesn't live long outside the body.  But what if that's not really what it said?  What if I only THOUGHT that's what it said?  What if I was just reading what I wanted to read?  What if it was all just denial?

Let me check again.  This is the last time.  I promise.  Just one more check.  Just one more. This is the last one.  I've read everyone on google.  I have to go to the medical library.  I have to check the medical textbooks. 

No.  I can't go out for drinks.  I can't meet up after work.  I have to go to the library.  I have to check. 

OK.  The medical books say that there's no way I could have gotten HIV. 

But I'm not a doctor.  Or a medical student.  What if there's something I misunderstood. 

I have a graduate degree in neuroscience.  I'm not stupid.  I know how to read medical information.  I can read a text book.

Right?

What if it didn't say what I thought it said? 

Let me read it just one more time.  Maybe I can make a copy to take with me?  Will they let me make a copy? 

OK -- I have a copy.  I can check.  I am OK.

The relief.  It's finally quiet. 

But -- medical information is often conflicting.  What if this is only one person's opinion?

I don't want to die.  I don't want to be alone.  I am going to die.  Alone.

I am driving.  God has to have some sort of sign for me, right?  God would want me to know if I had HIV, right?   

The traffic light.  If the light stays green, then I'm OK.  Don't speed up just to make it -- you don't want to trick God.  Then the sign won't mean anything.  I have to drive like I'm not watching for a sign.

It stays green.  Relief.  Quiet.  Peace.

But what if I sped up without realizing it? 

Let's try again.  If it stays green, I'm ok.  And again.  If it turns red, then I'm OK.  And again.  And again.  And again.

I can't believe I'm late for work.  I can't believe that I am looking for signs from God in traffic lights. 

I'm sorry.

I can't have HIV.  I can't die.  Everyone will leave me.  I'm so scared.  I'm so sorry.

Please.

I will get a test.  To make sure the valet didn't leave a drop of infected blood in my car and give me HIV.

I can't wait for the test results.  I will never be able to endure that wait.  I will get a rapid test.  I will know in 20-minutes.  I will know.  I watch them do the test. 

Are they sure?  My test looked darker than it was supposed to.  Are they sure?  Will you please check again?  Can you look it up?

I'm sorry.  I know.  I can't help it. 

The relief.  It's so quiet.  It's so peaceful.

But, what if.  What if the test was wrong?  I have to call them to make sure.  Please.  I'm sorry.  Please just check.

I will call the manufacturer of the test.  They will tell me,  I will find out that it's bad. 

I don't want to die.  I don't want to be alone.  Please don't leave me.

The traffic lights have been bad this morning.  I know it will be bad news. I will go for a drive at lunch today.  The traffic lights will help.

I will get tested again. And again.  And again. 

I'm sorry.

I have a sore on my tongue.  It's a sign of HIV. 

Rich, please just look at my tongue.  Please?  Just one more time?

Is it getting better?  Are you sure?  Will you just look one more time? 

It's OK?  Really?

The relief.  The peace.  The quiet.  I'm OK.

But the sore is still there.  Rich -- please, please check?  With the new flashlight. 

My tongue is so sore from the amount of time I spend sticking it out to check.  I have to check at work.  No one can know, so I go to the car.  Every hour.  To check.  I have a flashlight and a magnifying mirror in the glove compartment. 

I check. 

I check.

I check.

The traffic lights are better today.  I am OK.  I will be OK.  No one will leave me. 

The tests.  All the tests are negative.  I'm OK.  Right?  Rich?  I'm OK?  I'm not going to die?  You're not going to leave?

But.  The tests.  What if someone mixed up the samples?  I just read about that.  Careless lab errors.  I've made them myself.  What if they didn't give me my test results.  What if they were someone elses'?

I have to call the lab.  To check.  What do they do to assure good laboratory practices?  I know about GLP.  Are they using GLP?

I'm sorry to bother you, sir.  Are you sure?  Will you just check?

I'm sorry.

OK.  I'm being crazy.  I know I'm being crazy.  I can't make it stop.

There was just a story on the news.  About different strains of HIV.  Strains that aren't detected by standard tests.  The news story had just started when I turned on the TV.  It was a sign.  It has to be a sign.  God wants me to know I have HIV.  A different kind of HIV.  That's why the story came on when it did.  To tell me.

Oh shit.  Did my HIV tests test for that kind of HIV? 

I have to check.  I have to call the lab.

I'm so sorry.

I don't want to be alone.  I don't want you to leave me.  I don't want to die. 

Please, just check.

The tests don't test for the other type of HIV.

Shit.

The traffic lights.  Google.  Someone please help.  I need a sign.

I google.  I check.  My tongue sore is gone, but now I see something else when I look in my mouth.  What is that? 

Could it be thrush?  Thrush is a sigh of HIV.  I have to check.  I have to look.  I need my mirror.  I need my flashlight.

The traffic lights are scaring me.

There were only 47 cases of HIV-2 reported.  I compute statistical probabilities.  The chances are infinitesimally small. 

Why can't I be normal? 

I check the odds again. And again.  And again. 

I check my tongue again.  And again.  And again.

Please don't leave me.  I don't want to die.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

These are just 2 examples of my OCD.  There are many, many more.  Some are too embarrassing to share.  Some are so morbid that they're almost funny, and some are still too close to the surface that to write about them would be to risk triggering a relapse. 

This is how I lived.  For years and years and years.  My adolescence was spent obsessing about pregnancy.  My college years were spent obsessing about something I won't ever share here.  A good portion of my adulthood were spent obsessing about HIV and other diseases. 

Except for Rich, no one ever knew how bad it was.  Even Rich didn't know everything.  He didn't know about the traffic lights or about how many times I was tested for HIV.

I worked so hard at keeping it a secret that I developed severe depersonalization disorder. 

My life was filled with terror, shame, and confusion.  My grip on reality was often tenuous. 

Anyone who knew me knew I was an anxious person, but no one knew the extent of it.  I hid it for 2 reasons:  mostly, I was so caught up in the obsession that I feared that telling someone (other than Rich) would make it come true.  If I told a doctor or a therapist, I would have to see it through and I was convinced that my fears would all be confirmed.  As long as I had a small bit of doubt, then I had a sliver of hope.  Ironically, it was that small bit of doubt that powered the OCD. 

The second reason was shame.  Plain and simple.  Here I was -- young, smart, well-educated.  I had friends and a career.  I was so ashamed.  I SHOULD have been able to control them.  I SHOULD have been able to be normal.

Unfortunately, the deception took almost as much energy as the OCD.  I don't know how I made it through.  I lived in constant terror and I was exhausted. 

I am OK now.  After resisting for years, I started meds about 18-months ago.  It was an agonizing decision --- I tried vitamins, supplements, therapy, exercise, diets, and other alternative therapies.  And while some approaches did make me feel better, none of them were able to make a dent in the OCD.  Nothing quieted the voices telling me to check and check and check and check.

So I started meds (zoloft, if you're curious) and my life has changed.  The compulsion to check and check and check is still there, but it's quieter and weaker. 

I don't have to listen.  I am in charge.  With the help of the meds (and exercise and therapy and vitamins), I am finally stronger than the compulsions. 

I finally have some quiet.  I finally have some peace.  I finally have some relief.

 

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[Caroline Amateur]

The worst tempered people I've ever met were people who knew they were wrong.