(A (mostly) light-hearted Q&A poem based on things I’ve been asked about OCD.)
Are you like Sheldon on Big Bang Theory?
No. I’m also not like Monk, Mr. Udall,
or the people on Hoarders.
Do you sort your M&Ms?
I don’t eat them anymore.
Too many artificial colors.
Shouldn’t it be CDO?
Do you fucking make jokes about cancer, too?
Is your house, like, super clean?
Not that clean…
Not all the time…
Yeah, pretty much.
Can you take medication for OCD?
Yes, but it loses its effectiveness after a while.
So you have to control it with therapy and drinking.
How do you know if you have OCD?
Your own mind sort of attacks you.
Imagine a horrifying image,
or maybe your worst memory.
Your brain bombards you
with disturbing thoughts
and doomsday scenarios:
What if what if what if…
You have to perform rituals to stop it:
Checking and rechecking everything.
Handwashing. I bite my lips.
You can tell I’ve had a shitty week
if it looks like I have meth-mouth.
What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?
I ate practically nothing but canned goods
and frozen foods for over a year
when everything else felt contaminated.
Once I picked up my whole friend,
chair and all, and threw her aside
to escape a large flying beetle.
Are there any positives to OCD?
I am prepared for any disaster
because I totally saw it coming.
Dreadful Ideas 