rocknload | "my schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression."

So I have obsessive-compulsive disorder. I've finally gotten an unofficial diagnosis, which'll almost certainly be backed up by an official one next week. I don't feel any better. I should feel relieved that soon I'll be getting, like, help, after nearly two decades of dealing with this, but instead I'm convinced that it'll come "too late." Too late for what, your guess is as good as mine. Too late for me to pass this semester? Probably. Is that what I'm internally freaked about? Probably not.

So, why is it that I act like an unstable lunatic every few months? It's biological. I don't really believe that but I know it's true. That sort of paradoxical thinking is just something I'm used to. Observe, my lengthy explanation of the miracle of human mind.

1. OCD is an anxiety disorder. Like most anxiety disorders, like phobias or generalized anxiety disorder, this basically means that the brain misfires the chemicals that are usually released when a person is stressed out or under pressure. Not only does this trick the brain into believing that yes, indeed it is time to panic, but constantly being in a state of high stress is bad for you—your heart, your brain, you get the idea. Sometimes I just feel jittery and nervous. Sometimes I feel the same panicked rush you get when you, say, think you're about to fall to your death. Since I'm clearly not, my brain assumes the "danger" must be something else.

2. Obsessions! No one really seems to know what that means. It doesn't mean, for instance, that you can't stop watching your pirated copy of the new Star Trek, or that you've written eighteen fanfictions for the Twilight series. (These could ... possibly be compulsions, if you were unable to stop and didn't enjoy them at all. But anyway.) Obsessions are uncontrollable upsetting thoughts, like you're surrounded by deadly invisible germs, or you're imagining little children getting molested, or you're thinking about throwing yourself off a roof. Or, hell, maybe you can't get The Final Countdown out of your head, I don't know. They could really be anything. The important thing is that a) you really don't want to be thinking whatever you're thinking, and b) you can't stop. This often leads to thinking it's somehow significant that you are thinking it, e.g. if you can't stop thinking of naked kids you must be a pedophile. The unwanted thoughts trigger the anxiety.

3. Compulsions are behaviors done to "cancel out" the obsessive thoughts. They sometimes make sense. Obsessive cleaning is the cliché OCD symptom because contamination fears are extremely common, and cleaning the same thing over and over again is something the brain came up with to stop the thoughts about those invisible germs. They sometimes don't make sense. Probably counting to ten forwards and backwards eight times is not going in ensure that your daughter isn't going to die in a fiery car crash, but after you've done it you suddenly feel a whole lot better. Compulsions by definition can't be anything you enjoy doing, or initially enjoyed doing, so if you say say, "Well I have a compulsive need to get drunk and get laid," that's not OCD. But it's similar to drinking a beer to calm the nerves in that the more often you do it, the less it works, which just means you have to drink more. Or count more. Check more. Wash more. Whatever. Trying to resist just triggers more anxiety, maybe even that Fight or Flight, Do Or Die reaction.

4. I really doubt most people consciously go through even the sort of logical thought process I just described. I don't. So people with OCD know they have horrible thoughts they can't stop and bizarre behavior that they also can't stop—and the diagnostic requirements for OCD also include the fact that the sufferer knows that what they're doing is completely irrational. (There are some exceptions to that rule, though, like in the case of really young children, or people who have, quote, "very little insight.") Knowing they're being irrational doesn't actually help. In fact, it makes things worse because believing yourself to be batshit crazy is just going to trigger more anxiety and that will trigger more symptoms and you'll find yourself, wow, even nuttier.

5. OCD often comes and goes in cycles, so a stressful situation or maybe even nothing will set you off, you'll be totally overwhelmed with anxiety and symptoms until ... oh, hey, you're better. Only you're not and it'll come back. OCD can also change, symptoms can spread to related fears or totally new ones. I feel afraid of my fears, because I don't know what I'll be afraid of next.

6. Writing out rationalizations of my own behavior is probably one of my compulsions. Researching clinical explanations for my behavior, too, that's why I can just recite most of this. It's annoying me that I'm like, giving in, but I figured in this case I might at least have a useful result.

7. I'm currently having what you could call an episode, which pretty much means my symptoms have spiraled to the point where I can't control them. I usually get better in a few days but this time I'm not. I can't shower with the curtain closed, or after it gets dark outside. I can't eat until someone tells me to and then only particular foods. I can't sleep because I feel like I'm being watched, even though I know no one's there and I don't even think there is. I can barely go outside, much less to class. I'm afraid of running into anyone I know because they'll know I'm somehow letting them down. I'm afraid strangers will think I'm ugly and so I can't talk to anyone unless I'm dressed nicely and wearing makeup. I don't care about most of these things, most of the time, beyond the typical, normal facts that no one wants people to think they're ugly and no one wants to be watched in the shower. The kernel of logic makes it practically impossible to just dismiss the fears, and even if it didn't, they're all backed up by the sort of physiological symptoms that are usually caused by mortal danger. (I've also revealed the obsessions which make me sound a bit narcissistic, I realize, but they're easiest to explain.)

8. When the episode stops, whenever that is, I won't actually be totally normal. I have a lot of symptoms normally, ask anyone I've ever eaten with. But normally they're funny personality quirks and not, like, debilitating.

9. I really want to stop. But I can't.

So there you go. I'm not just nervous about going back to class, I'm actually terrified. It'd be like walking into a snake pit. I wimp out. I just can't do it. They say it's not a matter of willpower, but I don't know, I've forced it down in the past. I don't seem to be capable of that this time. That freaks me out, and I don't think that fear is due to any sort of rogue chemical reaction.

Public entry for the moment. I might rethink that.