No One Told Me There Were Others Like Me

Most people who follow my advocacy know that my OCD started when I was seven or eight. I usually tell a carefully curated story, detailing that I “lived with some impulse obsessions” until finally seeking treatment at fifteen. I talk about the moment I found out I had OCD, without telling people that my first memory of having OCD has remained equally as clear. 

I’m seven or eight, in either second or third grade. We’re walking to the park near our school.

I bet you want to suck on your teacher’s boobs.

I shake my head like an etch-a-sketch, trying to make it go away.

I bet you want to do it. 

Shake.

I bet I bet I bet 

Shake.

A picture of it, in all its glory.

Shake.

I’m in middle school, thinking of a teacher I consider my friend.

Don’t you wonder how she looks naked?

I’m in high school, thinking of a teacher who, bless her heart, wanted to help me but didn’t know how. 

I bet you want to see her naked, you perv.

Still in high school.

I wonder what her pubic hair looks like.

Still in high school, biking home one day.

The pointy part of your bike seat looks like a penis. If you sit on it it means you wanna have anal sex.

High school, biking home. (Biking home was not so fun for a long time.)

If you move your tongue around in your mouth, it means you want to suck someone’s dick. 

As I write these things down, I feel my stomach churn. I think about the people I mention here, people who I still care about and love and (impressively enough) talk to from time to time. I feel trapped in the anxiety and panic that NO ONE WILL EVER UNDERSTAND. But of course, people do.

I only learned I wasn’t alone from hearing other people’s stories — Rose Cartwright, Chrissie Hodges, Aaron Harvey. Thank you for being the people on the front lines. You taught me that I didn’t have to be so ashamed.

This is me saying what I wish I’d heard when I was younger: you’re not alone and I’ve got your back. 

I'd also like to say, that your thoughts aren’t invalid when no one talks about them. Most of my specific sexual obsessions (detailed here in all kinds of TMI glory) aren’t things that I’ve ever seen discussed, though the generalities are close enough that I’ve been able to figure it out. 

A special shoutout here to fellow asexual folks living with this stuff. We’re 1% of 1%, which is pretty cool. What’s even cooler is how we manage to survive in a world thats messaging about sex, sexuality, and dare I say it, sexual obsessions, isn’t made for us. You are so brave. And, despite widespread confusion, HOCD is an orientation thing, not a gay-versus-straight thing. If you’re ace and have sexuality obsessions that are about, well, sex, that is valid.

So that’s what I’m leaving you with: the insides of my brain and a couple lessons about life and OCD. What it all boils down to, is that even when you’re an exception within what’s talked about, you’re valid and seen. Whether it’s through having thoughts that you’re not “supposed to” at a young age, being ace with sexual obsessions, or having thoughts that are just plain weird, you count as someone with OCD and your voice matters. 

To those of y’all out there living with these same thoughts, I see you. And if you’re up to it, I’m challenging you to join me in breaking your silence.