Chrissie Hodges - PURE OCD: The Invisible Side of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

Pure OCD

The Invisible Side of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

Chrissie Hodges

Edited by Ethan Raath

Table of Contents

Copyright 2017 Chrissie Hodges

EBOOK ISBN: 9781634919937

PRINT ISBN: 9781634919913

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Published by BookLocker.com, Inc., St. Petersburg, Florida, U.S.A.

BookLocker.com, Inc., 2017, First Edition

This memoir is dedicated to the fearless and dedicated advocates for mental health. In selflessly sharing their stories, they eliminate stigma and foster hope in those who suffer with mental illness.

The publishing of this memoir is dedicated to my partner, Sean David McLimans. It is through his love, compassion, and support that I can truly believe in the power of accomplishing anything I put my mind to.

God Himself would reject anyone at Heavens gates who took the liberty to take a life rightfully Gods and Gods only to take.

My mind drifted, recalling those sentiments in a sermon I heard years ago with the preacher damning any person succeeding in suicide to Hell. The image of him ranting on the selfishness and weak-mindedness tempting anyone to complete such an atrocious act became clear, even in my clouded mind. I faintly heard his words echoing around me. I shivered, not from the cold but from how those words impacted me. The memory burst wide open. I could almost smell the strong oak beams holding up the tiny chapels ceiling. Worship bulletins acted as fans to the congregation sweltering from the lack of air conditioning in the sanctuary. I pictured myself sweating and panicking in the creaky, wooden pew.

The shame and fear conjured up by the pastors words hammered me to a miniscule size. His eyes bore into mine, tearing open a bleeding heart, and shattering a soul already falling toward rock bottom at a rapid pace. He stared into me as if he could read my thoughts. Does he know the secrets I carry? I had decided long before that day in chapel suicide would be a welcomed option if I could no longer bear the brunt of the madness in my mind. Maybe he knows? His angry words shook my brain, sending a surge of fear up my spine. I felt guilty for hating him. The service concluded and I walked out of the small, backwoods chapel wondering if he was really speaking the word of God. I certainly hope not.

Today, lying alone and scared in an ice cold creek bed, I questioned if he may be right about going to Hell? I held my hands over the open wound in my stomach, protecting it from splitting open any farther. It wouldnt matter anymore if it did. I passed the point of pain from the self-inflicted knife wound half an hour ago. My rational mind intervened, confirming whatever Hell may be, it could not be worse than living inside my tormented mind. I would gladly accept a physical Hell for eternity, than live one more day in the hell I had experienced since I was 8 years old.

It was a typical Thursday in third grade. Nothing out of the ordinary happened in the weeks leading up to this particular day. I was having a normal day as a social, outgoing, and energetic student cracking jokes with classmates as usual. Sometimes it got me in trouble, but generally I was a good student with good manners.

We filed into the classroom after lunch, settling into our seats. The teacher had us working quietly at our desks before resuming afternoon classes. Our classroom was organized into rows from front to back and side to side with spaces in between each desk. Mine was positioned by the pathway to the door of the classroom. I sat 4 seats back on the left side facing the door. I was focused on a reading assignment when a kid in my class named Jeff bolted past me from the front of the room. This was not out of the ordinary, but today my internal antenna warned me something bad was happening.

A tingling sensation on the back of my neck began radiating into my head. It felt like a heat wave in my neck, traveling down into my chest, arms, and hands. My forearms and hands became numb and my breathing began to quicken. My brain was screaming to run away, but I didnt understand what I would be running from. I looked around feeling like the walls and ceiling were closing in on me.

Dont look back, ChrissieStay focused, ChrissieKeep breathing, Chrissie.

I heard the teacher urgently telling Jeff to run quickly to the bathroom. I closed my eyes tightly, holding my breath. I felt his energy sprinting up the pathway toward the door. My body cringed and everything slowed down as he approached my desk.

Oh God, please make it past me, Oh God, please make it past me.

My prayers were too late. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him bend over and throw up inches from my desk. In one swift motion, my legs powered me as far away from Jeff and his sickness as possible. When I finally opened my eyes, the boy sitting next to me was desperately trying to push me off his lap. I was in a fetal position between him and his desk, feeling unable to breathe. He finally shoved me onto the floor, and I hit the ground with a hard thud.

I was sweating profusely, terrified by what just happened. I looked up to see the majority of attention was not on Jeff and his sickness, but on me. The teacher was in my face shaking me and yelling, but I couldnt hear her words. All I could hear was my heartbeat and labored breathing. As the world came into focus, my teacher was asking if I was okay. All eyes were on me. I was humiliated. I needed to figure out what just happened, but I didnt know if I could talk. I worried if I said what I felt out loud, it may happen again.

I was shaking as my teacher helped me stand up. I heard a few snickers from students and I shot them a threatening look. This wasnt my fault, but I was embarrassed. I wanted to crack a joke or something to make everything look okay, but I was too overwhelmed and shaken up. I couldnt look back at my desk. Every time I thought about what happened, I felt the hot feeling and tingling in my neck again.

Why is this happening to me? What is this weird physical feeling? Am I going to throw up? Does this mean I might throw up? What if this feeling happens again in front of everyone?

I could feel the heat rising in my chest and my hands started to tingle.

OH GOD, HERE IT COMES AGAIN, WHAT DO I DO? HOW DO I GET OUT OF HERE?

I wanted to run as fast as I could out of the classroom. I wanted to run as far as I could away from school, my teacher, and the student who threw up. I hated everyone in this classroom. How could everyone be so calm after what just happened? Why are people acting like nothing happened? Why didnt anyone else care as much as I did? Why do I care so much?

Every year kids get sick in the classroom and Ive never reacted or felt this way. My sister will throw up if you look at her the wrong way and it has never bothered me. Ive thrown up and while I dont find it exciting, Ive never felt this way about it. What happened to make things different today? Was it the student? Was it because it happened so close to me? It doesnt make sense. Why all of a sudden am I feeling this way about throwing up?

I pressed my face against the cool window, staring at the playground. How I wished I was outside in the open air instead of breathing contaminated throw up air. I looked over at my chair and my body began reacting again. I couldnt breathe. I needed to control this feeling right now. I started counting my breaths to distract myself. How many breaths does it take for this bad feeling to go away?