If there’s more then one kind of food on my plate, I have to completely finish one item before going on to the next one. Also, I have to turn my plate a quarter turn once I finish something.
Lesse…
- If I have even an inkling of a feeling in my bladder, I need to pee. Even if my bladder is actually empty.
- When I read books, I’ll often lapse into a state of: the end of a line must contain three consecutive words of the same letter length, or of the last word’s letter length+1, or I’ll scan the page until I find this pattern. Slows me down so much now!
- I have an office chair at my bedside from when I used to work at the desk in my room. The arms on the office chair must be in a certain position when I roll over onto my right side and see the chair.
- I have to push on a tap to make sure the water is shut off, even if I can see with my own eyes no water is running.
- I pick at any uneven skin. It doesn’t have to be a zit, just an uneven patch like where a hair shoots up. This is done on my face and arms, but I’ve controlled it enough that I often only have one ugly red scab on my face at a time!
- Sandal straps and shoelaces must be secure so there is the same amount of pressure and hold on my feet at the same time.
- The number 2 is bad. Either do something only once, or do it 3 times or more.
Is the counting thing an OCD thing? Because I’ve done that since I was a kid, I could tell you the number of stairs in a staircase, the number of electric poles on a street, etc etc etc for almost anywhere I’d ever been.
I also group things into fours, even sometimes to the point of how my arms and legs are positioned (hands,elbows,knees feet a combo of 4 on each side of my body) regardless of if my legs are crossed, arms folded whatever. Or I’ll start counting to myself starting at 1 and doubling…keeping a tally in my head into the millions sometimes.
My mother dragged me to a therapist when I was about 16 (she hoped he would make me not gay) and he mentioned that the counting thing meant SOMETHING but never said what.
I’ve already mentioned, in another thread, my eating thing about saving the best for last.
I’m always putting things in order, preferably color-coded (going through the spectrum, starting with yellow).
When crossing a street, **knowing **with which foot I’ll reach the opposite curb.
Pulling out hairs in my goatee (always the thick or curly ones).
There’s always music going on in my head, and my teeth are the percussion section (causing major dental problems over the years).
I always count the steps going up or down stairs.
Certain things (shirts, linens, dishes) are arranged by when they were cleaned. I have to use the oldest ones first (e.g. fresh towels go on the bottom of the pile).
The strange thing is that I’m not a neat freak. I’m actually more of an Oscar than a Felix.
I could have said both of these.
Rsschen-
"Self-abuse. Picking, in particular. My fingertips and cuticles are the ugliest that I’ve ever seen, and they hurt. But I can’t stop it. I CAN’T! I’ve tried everything, from pretty manicures to dissuade me to psychiatrist suggested meds, nothing helps this problem. I’m pretty uptight and anal so it doesn’t surprise me. I want my nails to be pretty, they feel unsmooth and ragged so I pick the skin to make it smooth and then it bleeds. Then, as it’s healing the texture is off again so the process starts all over, ad nauseum. It sucks. I have to hide my hands when in public so as not to scare small children. In fact, there was one kid I intentionally showed to dissuade him from chewing his nails. "
One solution I have heard is by choosing *one * finger to not pick at. After you feel comfortable with that, add another finger. You slowly acclimatize to the idea, yet still have another nine to keep you company.
I did not know that cuticle picking constituted OCD? I do this a lot. Also, if I ever have a blemish it will always take 10x longer to heal because I will pick at it too. Right now only six of my fingers have obviously bright red painful areas, so maybe that means it’s not truly OCD. I will chew on them, but my little cuticle nippers at home are my best friend. I use them daily. I also have a handy little razor blade on my desk so I can “smooth off” rough sections of cuticle with a surgical slice. This results in bleeding only about 50% of the time. My mom is a cuticle picker to some extent, I assume I learned it from her, but I never thought of it as a disorder.
I don’t know how I be able to leave one finger out as you suggested fisheroo, I don’t pick for the joy of picking, I do it to try to keep the cuticles perfectly smooth. If I see a little hangnail, I have to pull it or nip it or chew it. It wouldn’t help that one finger’s hangnail to pick at my other nine nails now would it? …Should I seek professional help?
I’m not OCD, but do have obsessive behaviors (which I understand is normal to an extent).
Numbers: I add all the digits together in a number continuously down to one digit. And I’m a blueprint/data entry clerk. :smack: I know I can always stop if I get to a nine, though, since it cancels all the other digits out.
Symmetry: When walking on a sidewalk, I can “feel” the cracks. As in, if the right step is before the joint or a crack in the cement, I have to shuffle my walking pattern so that the left step occurs before the next joint. Same if it comes after, especially if I actually step on the joint. It’s an almost physical feeling, I can’t describe it. It used to apply to driving over filled cracks, etc. too.
I’m not compelled to do these things as much now that I’m an adult, though.
Screwing bottle tops back on is difficult for me, so generally I have to put them on tightly and then unscrew them a little bit. Throwing bottle tops away is difficult, too.
If I touch anything “new” I have to tap it 21 times, the 21st time making it “safe”. Sometimes I have to go through that more than once. Similarily, if I see any odd markings on the pavement or street decorations I have to look at them and count to 21.
When I read a book, I have to look at the page number before going on to the next page, and if i’m turning to the next one I have to look at both of them until they’re safe.
I can’t place objects so that I create an enclosed space within them, though this may have something to do with my slight claustrophobia as well.
All of these are better or worse depending on how stressed I am at the time.
I used to be married to a female version of Monk. We followed each other around the house repositioning items that had been moved by the other. :smack:
:o
I definitely feel the same urge to pick at anything rough. What helped me reduce my cuticle and hangnail picking is carrying around a little container of cuticle moisturizer. If I find myself picking, or (better) if I feel the urge to pick, I whip out the tin and moisturize, moisturize, moisturize. Rubbing it in seems provide a sensation that fulfills the urge in a nondestructive manner, plus the moisturizer prevents future hangnails. If I have a really nasty big hangnail, I trim it with clippers and put a bandaid with some antibacterial cream on it, and that tends to heal it up pretty quick.
For a while there, my cuticles were starting to look pretty nice, but now, I admit, I’m going through a stressful period and they’ve gone straight to hell. And I have two picked-open zits on my face that I’m trying my damnedest to ignore. sigh
Sorry, I should have added that I don’t have OCD, or expect that solution to help someone who actually does have OCD . . . Just a little tip for the only-somewhat-compulsive hangnail-pickers.
When I wear a tie, I can’t hardly stop untying and re-tying the damn thing. About once every hour, I feel the knot has become all cramped up and creased, so if I can, I slip away and redo it. If I can’t, I tend to fidget.
I usually get obsessions where the compulsion is to sit them out and reason why they aren’t true, and countering the arguments.
Things like religion-like I was obsessed with the idea that I was somehow going to Hell. Or that I was gay (when I never even felt any inkling that way).
Once I had an obsession with puking-I got really sick when I was ten years old, and just kept throwing up all night. For about a year after that, every time I felt the slightest bit of a stomachache, I was convinced I was going to throw up all over the place. I would drink glass after glass of water, because I thought if I could just burp, I’d be okay-(all it did was make me pee). If I could make it until 4:30 am without getting sick (because that’s the time I woke up and got sick the last time), I would be okay.
If I heard ANYONE had the stomach flu, I was a wreck. And granted, my nerves would naturally make my stomach hurt, which would feed into it.
Now, I’m diagnosed and treated (since I was 18), so it’s in control. Now it’s mostly little things-like on my computer task bar, I HAVE to have my program tabs in a certain order. It gets a little out of wack, sure, but I try to keep them as neat as possible.
I’m constantly checking to make sure I turn things off-like my curling iron, or my fan before I leave. If I have a scab, I pick at it, even if it starts bleeding. When I was six years old, I started chewing up the inside my cheek even though it hurt like hell and my dentist really had to work to get me to stop.
I don’t know if it’s OCD or not, but I absolutely have to count the buttons on any remote control I’m holding. If it’s five rows of three, then I constantly count them “three, six, nine, twelve, fifteen.” Then I count them by vertical rows, “five, ten, fifteen.” As long as I’m holding the remote, I’m counting & recounting the buttons.
I had a friend who was diagnosed with mild OCD. I don’t know any specific things that bothered him. It seemed like at any moment, any one thing could start bugging him. Like one day, we were at happy hour in an upstairs bar and through the window he could see one single little snow pile that no one had kicked or stepped on. He became obsessed about how that snow pile needed to get kicked, and he finally had to go outside, cross the street and kick that snow pile a few times. Then he was okay.