Intrusive Thoughts To Do With Greed + Food OCD

Food and me have a complicated history. I’ve always been a big eater and have always enjoyed eating take-outs, at cafes or at resteraunts with my family. Despite how much I’ve loved food, it’s also been a large part of my OCD.

Throughout my childhood certain food was viewed by my OCD as ‘contaminated’. Not by germs ( although ‘germs’ was the terminology I used to use to describe the thing that was ‘contaminated’; a word later added to my language.) or an actual founded in reality, albiat very unlikely concern such as it having some sort of disease; my ‘contamination’ was different.

It was the grease from a bagel, the tomato ketchup from my brother’s hotdog, the slight possibility of a crumb from a sausage roll falling on my scarf when I’m on holiday to Centre Parcs e.t.c.

The thing that was different about my OCD as my phycologist pointed out later was that when I felt like the food had ‘contaminated’ me, I was never in fear of consequences like a loved one dying or getting sick from the food – the typical OCD fears that would fuel the compulsion ( or at least the typical line of thinking that if I do something or fail to do something, X, Y and Z will happen as a result. )

My OCD has rarely been like that. Don’t get me wrong – my OCD is by no means worse or better than any other person’s is – it’s just different presumably because I’m, well, autistic.

When I got ‘contaminated’ by food or any other thing I deemed undesirable, I was not afraid of something bad happening as a result – It was that I felt wrong and bad. It’s hard to explain the way being ‘contaminated’ feels. It’s not real, ‘contamination’ is a way for me to deal with life – I know. But the feeling is awful.

Something that one of my phycologists once said about my OCD being different to the traditional OCD made me think oneday in my appointment about how upon feeling ‘contaminated’ by apple juice – I searched on Google Images ‘celebrities with apple juice in their hair’.

I wanted ( and still do to a degree ) to be like ‘everyone else’, I looked at these ‘normal girls’ in my real life and celebrities. I looked at the girls in my class and on the TV, who I could never quite understand and found flaws in myself in ways that were unconventional. The worst part is that even if someone else got  apple juice on them for example – that was okay! They were not ‘contaminated’ because it was only me who got contaminated…

Because at the end of the day my OCD is not about preventing something bad from happening, I think my OCD is about my autism.

So that brings my point to today. I go out and buy spicy chips from the shops, food I buy with my own money that I truly don’t need as I’ve already ate. I eat them and now I feel the familiar feeling of being ‘contaminated’. I feel greedy because I did not need to eat them and I hate myself slightly for being so greedy.

So tonight I showered, giving into my OCD and as I sit here late at night on what would have been a school night had I still been in school ( a transition that my autism is struggling to comprehend – that I’m no longer in high school ) and a plan to hang out with a friend for drinks tomorrow and all I can think about is how those spicy chips made me feel.

But we all know it’s not really about spicy chips. It’s because I have a social event tommorrow and I’m nervous. It’s because I’m realising that I am no longer a child and have new challenges. It’s because I am autistic. I just wish my brain would believe it.

Parents and Autism

Dear Diary,

I was never great at communicating with my parents growing up. Call it autism, depression or the fact that I had OCD and my parents had no clue what I meant in my early years when I told them about ‘germs’ – or a culmination of all these things but I truly was rubbish at communicating my feelings.

After I grew up a bit, I understood a lot more about what I thought a family was about; and so I opened up a lot more about how I was feeling and then I also began to rely on my parent’s approval without even realising it. I am so reliant on my parent’s opinions and approval and they don’t understand it. My parents are by no means pushy or try to stifile or undermine mine or anyone else’s opinions but they are human beings with different opinions.

I feel alone in the world when I’m not relying emotionally on my parents because as soon as I realised properly in my autsitc brain that I had parents – I became subtly dependent on their approval. It’s not that I didn’t still yell at my parents, roll my eyes and storm out in a huff – because believe me I did (and still do). It’s more like I have the need to tell them every little thing that goes on in my life because I need to know that what I did was okay. My parents already do so much for me and I don’t think they actually realize how much I appreciate all that they do because I’m not good at communicating it all the time. They make sure that my room is clean, my clothes are ironed and I get driven to work and cooked hot meals without any complaint from them.

The trouble is that they don’t understand how I don’t understand that I need to keep my room clean and that I have to iron and wash clothes and arrange things. In my head I’m only a few years away from not living in my room full-time so the notion of keeping my room clean is pointless. Of course their argument that you could say that about anything is valid but I just don’t feel like it is correct.

One more thing about my parents that I find so frustrating as a young person with autism is the fact that they seldom remember I am autistic at all times. When I do something ‘autistic’ in public like speak much louder because I’m not good at regulating my volume in different places – they treat me like they would any other 18 year old who is being loud and seem to forget I’m autistic. When I talk about something too much they think I’m obsessed and don’t understand that sometimes I’m just trying to process something I like or really don’t.

Here lies my main problem and the reason I need to grow-up. Deep down no matter how much I know in my heart of hearts how much they love me and how much time, money, effort and sacrifice they put into getting me help and making sure that I am ready for adulthood, even with all of that and more; I am angry at them. And at the same time I just want to make them proud.

I am so angry and annoyed that they didn’t realise I had autism sooner. After I was diagnosed my mother said that “Finding out I had autism made everything make sense – it was the missing piece of the puzzle” not in an unkind way but it made me wonder how could you not know? Maybe not that I had autism but that there was something wrong with me when I was unable to touch my toys without washing my hands and brushing my teeth because I had OCD. I obviously didn’t know that I was different but surely they must have. I’m angry that whilst of course I joined CAHMS in primary 6 – my parents didn’t figure out that I was wrong. My mother told me that they thought I was just mature for my age which is why I preffered speaking to the grown-ups on play-dates.

Of course my parents are only human – two humans with three other kids, a morgage, a house and jobs to juggle; and if we are being honest I took up alot of those juggling balls – so it is truly unfair to blame them for not understanding a condition that mainstream media didn’t and still doesn’t understand. It’s also completely unfair to expect two humans to be able to 24/7 be able to deal with the autistic behaviour I do and not be in the slight bit frustrated how I wake them up because I want to talk to them.

It’s also truly unfair to blame them for things that they could not have known. Like my mother’s offhand remark of “Always stand up for yourself” a hallmark quote that she couldn’t have known I’d take literally. A quote that led to S1 me taking on S3/4s girls who were rough and ready because I stood up for myself for a stupid comment that would have saved me alot of friends, tears and pain had I just ignored. Me following her advice from nursery because I didn’t understand about how varied and complex most situations with conflict or drama can be. So why do I still feel angry about it? And why do I now get annoyed when my mother tells me very simple things that I obviously should and shouldn’t do in a situation which makes me feel like an idiot when I have a very recent history of taking the words of a cat poster to heart?

Why do I still feel angry at taking my middle aged Dad’s advice to write my phone number and e-mail down to give to all the girl’s in my new primary class in P6 on my first day only for them all to somehow have lost the bits of paper by the time I started my first term? Why am I annoyed that my Dad still has no clue about what a lot of my conditions actually are?

Why do I feel so upset that as a 18 year old woman I have just literally asked my Mum if it’s ‘okay’ to go to a nightclub with my colleagues. Not is it okay on a specific night because we have plans – but is it okay at all.

It’s not all bad though, my Mum disagreed with something I did recently – not in a nasty way but a simple “wouldn’t have done that myself” kind of way. I obviously don’t agree with her as I believe I did the right thing in the situation but her critisism did make me think about certain consequences of doing similar things again which is without a doubt a good thing. So I made some progress really today. I acknowleged my mother’s reasonable advice, respected myself for making the choice that I made and moved on. I think this mindset is the place I need to be at. I need to be Miss Independent but able to accept my parents opinions and advice without ignoring it or treating it as gospel truth.

I don’t think they’ll read this post as I’m obviously not going to directly message them about it but if they do read it they should know that I’m obviously not trying to upset them, nor trying to make them feel like bad parents, people or anything like that. They are fantastic people and parents – I am simply unable to verbally communicate some of this to them.

Take care of yourselves.

Medusa.

University Decision: Pre-Making the choice

Dear Diary,

The time is here – well a mere matter of hours away – for me to decide where I want to go to university and what course I want to take.

There are a few things for me to consider in the next short while. There are things to consider about both my capabilities my dreams and what the hell I want to do with the rest of my life.

I’m an insecure eighteen year old with autism and mental health problems; trapped in the mindspace of a primary one girl, who longs to be accepted and liked by the other kids in the playground. A girl who can’t understand why people don’t like her. I’m someone who lacks confiction in her decisions without letting on to the fact. I’m someone who still struggles to understand how she could possibly be autistic one day and on another day can’t touch her belongings because her OCD is too bad.

This is why I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m going to end up miserable in two ways:

Reason 1: I’m scared that by picking one choice I will be passing up on an opportunity I have always wanted and may never get again. I’m terrified that I am choosing based on fear of the unknown. That I’m using any excuse to not take a leap of faith and do something I’ve wanted to do since I was little. I’m afraid that I’ll end up filled with regret and anger at myself.

Reason 2: I’m scared that if I pick something and take a leap of faith it won’t work and I’ll be disheartened, sad and crushed. I’m scared that I’ll not be able to manage the course either by being not good enough at the course or by having a mental breakdown, or by both. I’m scared that I’ll miss an opportunity to discover what I want to do by rushing into an idea that could make or break me. I could take my time and see, try something and then if I can do it – move on to my dream course (if it remains that).

I’m so scared of regret, I have enough of it from my years of letting my OCD control my life and I don’t want to add to it. But whatever I do regret is always a risk.

I need to spend the next few hours thinking. Will post after I make my choice.

Medusa.

My 18th Birthday

Dear Diary,

Yesterday, or rather a few hours ago was my 18th birthday and I had an amazing time!

This is my second birthday in lockdown and yet it was incredible. I woke up feeling really excited and then I was wished happy birthday by my grandparents (socially distant of course) and I returned home where I found bunting saying 18 in the kitchen. My Mum and sister arrived from the shop shortly after I came home with a giant balloon.

After we all were together I started opening up my presents. My siblings, parents, cousins, aunts and uncles and grandparents got me the best stuff I could ever have asked for and I honestly loved every gift so much. It was so exciting and I felt very happy.

Later on I popped a bottle of champagne and drank some of that in my new 18th birthday glass I was given by my Mum. At dinner time my Dad made his famous homemade pizza and I got a whole one to myself!

As I blew the candles out of my cake; my siblings and I listened and sang along to iconic songs such as “Fireflies” by OwlCity, “How Bad Can I Be?” and “Let It Grow” from The Lorax soundtrack and “I gotta feeling” by The Black Eyed Peas.

After dinner we all sat down with popcorn and watched Zac Snyder’s Justice League on NowTV. Even though it was four hours long – I loved the movie and the whole experience was great.

So as my birthday draws to a close I realised three things: 1. Turning 18 didn’t mean that everything was changing – it meant I was getting presents! 2. My OCD was really good today (It was barely affecting me at all!) 3. I had the best time ever.

Thanks for reading!

🎉🥳🎊
My birthday balloon!🎈🎈🎈