Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD): a disorder characterized by unreasonable thoughts and fears (obsessions) that lead to compulsive behaviors. Or at least that’s the “official” definition.

I have to stick to an everyday routine that is the exact same every single day. If one thing changes, my whole day is ruined. Brush my teeth, do my makeup, brush my hair. Brush my teeth, brush my hair, do my makeup. Wait, that's wrong. I need to restart. This is how I live.

OCD is a weird thing. There’s a broad spectrum from just wanting to stay organized to having my whole life revolve around how many times I blink before I walk into a room, or how many times I twist a door knob before I open it. Twist the door knob 5 times before you open it, Mia. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... 5 and a half. Two fives is luckier than one. 5.5. Okay open the door now.

To a lot of people, it’s very difficult to explain how my mind works, and how severe my OCD really is. Yeah, I like to stay organized, and I fit the stereotype of a “perfectionist,” but it goes deeper than that. For me, numbers play a big part in my OCD, but everyone who has it has something unique to them. My numbers don’t have a pattern, it’s just what seems right to me. 2, 5, 7, 8, and 10 are lucky to me. They’re ‘safe’ to me and make me feel comfortable.

Numbers make life unnecessarily difficult. For example, if I’m walking on a sidewalk, I have to take two steps per square until I can go to the next one. If I take more than two, I need to round up to five and take five steps before I can go to the next one. It’s not like I want to do that, it’s just how my brain is wired. I wish I didn’t have to think about how many breaths I take before I close my eyes, or how many steps I take on a sidewalk. I know I don’t have to do it, and I know that it won’t truly affect my whole day if I take three steps instead of two. I’m fully aware, but my brain doesn’t let me think otherwise. It makes me feel like if I don’t take two steps, something bad will happen to me.

With OCD comes ticks. Ticks are compulsive movements that are very hard, or even impossible for some to control. And I have a lot. I hate them. Some of them are painful, some are annoying, some are vocal, some are stupid, but I hate all of them. I wish I didn’t have them, but I do. It’s a part of me. I’m very good at covering them, though. At school, I hide them well, but at home is when it gets bad. I can’t even begin to explain what they are or how they work, they just happen. And my brain will not let me forget about them. I’ve tried. When I feel one coming on, I use everything in my power to not do it, but I last about ten seconds tops. I get this overwhelming feeling that floods through my veins, telling me to do it. Because once I do it, those feelings are released. But they come right back minutes later. I can control them to an extent. I can’t stop them from happening, but I can control the severity of them.

It’s incurable, and it’s not normally something you’re born with. It develops. It usually roots from anxiety, which I have. I’m diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and OCD, but there is also a possibility of tourettes. Ticks often get worse with age, but in some cases they can go away, and I’m really hoping for the second option. There’s just no specific treatment for it. I wish I could just get rid of the pesky things. It’s mentally and physically tiring. 

They’ve shaped who I am, though. I coordinate my whole life around OCD. It’s made me organized, and basically forces me to stay on top of my work. It’s in my routine, so I have to do it anyway. So, although it can be a pain to have ticks and OCD, it comes with some good too. And it has helped shape me into who I am now.