#ocd mention

[six-of-cringe]

tumblr is to moral ocd what tiktok is to adhd and post

[fbfh]

omg could you do leo valdez with ocd reader 🥺 ... i love how you write him smmmm!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

OF COURSE BABES. first of all for anyone who doesn't know there are a lot of different types of OCD, and no matter what type or types you have, you could not find someone more supportive than Leo motherfucking Valdez. OCD is hard to have and hard to treat and guess what???? he's gonna learn everything he can about it and work with you to figure out how to help you when things are bad and good and all the little uppy downy in between parts.

adding a read more so this doesn't trigger anyone (cw: mentions of contamination, checking, vague mentions of intrusive thoughts, religious ruminations and magical thinking, please do not engage with this post if it could trigger you!!! I love yall <3)

if you have the contamination kind and you're always stuck feeling like nothing's clean enough, Leo understands. He'll take over for you, he'll cast eyes over things and remind you that you did what you're supposed to do and help distract you with something else. He knows to check dates on the groceries he buys you, knows how to help you feel better without accidentally enabling your compulsions.

if you have checking compulsions like relocking doors and making sure the stove is off and appliances are unplugged, he starts doing the closing up routine at night for you. you have a house rule that you're only allowed to check things two times, then Leo will check once for you if you need him to, then he helps you move onto something else. If you're worried that the stove is on and it's going to burn down the house, he never fails to make you laugh by promising to be the one to deal with all the insurance guys.

"Worst case scenario? We pull off the greatest insurance scam in history and retire early to the Swiss alps."

he says it so casually that it never fails to make you laugh, it takes the sting and the stress from your thoughts a little.

if religious ruminations or magical thinking are more your thing, Leo actually knows exactly what to do about that. he pulls out a golden drachma and cuddles with you while he fidgets with it.

"I can get a direct line to any god. If one of them starts beefing with you, I will personally handle it." he kisses you. he mumbles against your lips, and he smiles when he gets you to smile. "I'll also remove every screw, nut, bolt, and support beam in their entire palace and turn everything into breakaway prop furniture."

when your intrusive thoughts get bad he holds your shaky hands and promises that he won't ever let you do anything that could hurt you or someone else, he goes through your affirmations and grounding exercises with you, he reminds you that thought crimes are not crimes.

no matter what your symptoms are or how bad they get, Leo's love for you and deep knowledge that you are an amazing, wonderful, incredible person never wavers. he loves you. he loves being with you, he loves helping you, he loves being the one to care for you. Leo loves knowing that he's able to support you, to ease your burden and make sure you don't feel like you're alone. and you're never going to be alone, because nothing could ever scare Leo away from you. he just loves you too much.

[number1greedlingfan]

saw a hc a while back and i spent ages looking for it (couldn't find it, not important) that was ling yao with ocd. all i have to say abt this is it adds another layer to his "eats anything" schtick—you mean to tell me he can overpower extremely heinous intrusive thoughts to clear his plate? multiple plates??

does "you're eating bugs you're eating bugs this is larva" or "you have an intestinal parasite it's IN YOU it's MOVING YOU CAN FEEL IT STOP EATING YOU'RE FEEDING IT" mean nothing to this guy???

[st7arlights-side]

Theorizing Pt 1: repression

UP AHEAD: so much rambling about Orange. written very late at night and not the most coherent, sorry. (also, all uses of Thomas are referring to c!Thomas)

okay everyone talks about the dark sides being their opposites, opposing colors, colors on opposite ends of the wheel, but wanna know another term for it? complementary colors. I think the idea of "totally opposing, entirely contrasting, nothing alike" is not really accurate to the lore that we have been given? It's clear that it's important that all sides are accepted, and that there is no "solely good" or "solely bad" trait. Everything has complexities and different aspects to it, and the sides are no different.

I've never been particularly fond of the idea of wrath/anger/cruelty being orange because it seems like a scapegoat? I am more in favor of it representing regret (as most appearances of it are present in scenes or conversations with regret present) [forgot where i saw the theory first :sob:] and passion (impulsive acts based in emotions, a contrast to Logan's character while simultaneously rounding him out and forcing him and thomas to accept the parts that aren't all logical) [theory from @/dillydallydove] as these have more dimension and seem to fill out the gaps in the sides a bit more, especially considering the general theme going with remus, janus, and virgil. These are aspects that Thomas represses, and he knows them by names that aren't really accurate to their full purposes. He knows Janus as deceit, while he is more accurately described as self-preservation. He knows Remus as intrusive thoughts, when he is more accurately described as his repressed creativity. He knows Virgil as Anxiety (which is fairly accurate, though it still minimizes his functions) though he might be more accurately described as caution? fear? an aspect of self preservation? Regardless, perhaps orange could be known as wrath or anger because that's what he manifests as, but that doesn't mean that this is accurate to who he is as an aspect of Thomas. Remus is intrusive thoughts because that is the only way he can get recognized, the only way he breaks through the suppression. Janus is known as deceit because he has to manipulate the other sides to get them to prioritize Thomas's self-interest (as well as his personal responsibility to protect Thomas from what he can't handle at the moment; deceiving himself, sure, but at it's core, preserving his presently fragile mental state).

What emotion, what passion, does thomas repress the most? he's clearly open to expressing love and joy and, more recently, stress and anxiety, even some hints of sadness showing. but what has he been repressing the most? his anger! his frustration! his (and his sides') sense of inadequacy!! Orange is being seen in these contexts because that is what he isn't allowing himself (and the sides) to express as themselves.

Sanders Sides' whole thing is accepting the different parts of yourself, with underlying themes of c!thomas's upbringing causing him to repress, deny, or otherwise have an unhealthy relationship with "bad" aspects of himself (which, boy do i have some ideas for possible explorations of OCD in this, especially with the prevalence of intrusive thoughts- and the ways Thomas and the other sides change their language around Remus to prevent him from "getting ideas"-). Orange could be treated as a character foil to Logan, or Orange could be like Janus, but instead of protecting c!T from things he can't handle, Orange is the result of that suppression. Like how remus formed from thomas (patton) forbidding Roman from having "bad" ideas, orange could be formed from thomas (logan) pushing down "bad" feelings, feelings of passion that don't directly help other people.

Of course, this brings me to how Janus (a "gatekeeper" of sorts for Thomas) would interact with orange. this is reaching more into prediction territory. I suspect that Janus wants orange to emerge, as prolonged repression is harming Thomas (which i'm pretty sure he alluded to at least once, though i'm blanking on when). (also, an aside, is it not concerning that during the christmas special, Janus, c!T's self-preservation, was increasingly inebriated?? ooh and the occasional gags about Logan drinking wine too-) Notice how Janus has been watching Logan? this plus the general willingness to exclude Logan (further pushing his frustration and feelings of inadequacy) makes me suspect that he (as per usual) knows more than the rest.

I... don't really have a conclusion. I think Orange isn't an embodiment of aggression, moreso a result of repression? I guess? And I'm concerned about... yeah everyone involved, but especially Logan and Janus.

[adamschuerk]

zwangsstörungen sind so witzig. dann wasch ich mir die hände nur kurz ab (sprich: normal, wie sonst auch alle) statt eines kompletten fünf-minuten rituals plus desinfektionsmittel, und mein gehirn registriert das als leben am limit. bin schon halt n absoluter gangster. könnte vom adrenalinlevel her genauso gut autodiebstahl plus verfolgungsjagd begehen, wäre dat gleiche

liebes gehirn, girl what

[brandstifter-sys]

The Great Bitchin Bake-Off

Chapter 1: It's a Piece of Cake (Ao3)

Word Count: 3311

Rating: T

Characters: Roman, Remus

Warnings: Brotherly shenanigans, innuendo, blood, Remus has OCD

Roman and Remus have no internet, no cookbooks, and they have to make breakfast for everyone in the mindscape. Rather than work together, the creativitwins just have to make it a competition, if only so there's something edible in the end

---

This was the worst possible thing that could happen! Thomas was camping and away from the internet, and Roman and Remus were tasked with making cinnamon rolls for breakfast, as well as eggs and sausage, but those things were easy to prepare. 

“Where is it?!” Roman groaned as he scoured the cabinets. Patton had to have a cookbook somewhere around there! Remus was sitting on the stovetop, watching his brother tear the kitchen apart. 

“You know where it isn't!” he chirped, being as unhelpful as possible. 

Roman's shoulders tensed and he said, “Then go check his room, or Janus' room! We don't have all night!” 

“It's already 3 in the morning, we clearly did have all night!” Remus jeered and jumped off the stove. 

“Will you just—” 

“Check their rooms for a third time? Ask Harlot's Web if he has it again? Scour the entire Imagination?” Remus asked dramatically, gesticulating like the prince, before he smacked his hands on the stove and laughed, “Of course not!” 

“Then what do you propose we do?” Roman hissed and spun on his heels to face the grinning duke. He absolutely loathed that sharp, twisted smile and the chaos it invited. 

“Wing it! What good is being Creativity if we can't get creative!” 

Roman sputtered and gawked at him as he skipped to the cabinets. Remus was all too happy gathering an assortment of dry ingredients that would coat his arguably plain clothes in white. There was no way this walking disaster could simply “wing it” with anything food related—the man ate cockroaches! 

“Working with you with a recipe is already more struggle than it's worth—I refuse to let you poison the others because you just had to be Eris incarnate!” 

Remus pouted at him and let his head drop over his shoulder. The unamused glare would have been disorienting for anyone other than Roman, but he was used to it. 

“At least I would poison them on purpose,” he scoffed, “You would manage it whether you want to or not, if you manage to make something worth eating.” 

Those were fighting words. Roman could see the impish smile fighting to unfurl below that infuriating mustache. There was no way he could let Remus get away with affronting his pride in such a crude manner! 

“In that case, leave and I will prove that I am capable!” the prince huffed and crossed his arms. A mistake on his part. 

“Prove this!” 

Slap

Roman yelped as a small square packet hit him in the face. That bastard was trying his limited patience. And what was worse, he was all too familiar with the size and shape of the packet. Knowing Remus…

"Was that a condom!?" Roman shrieked and whacked the packet away from his face. Remus howled with laughter. Of course he would be so crass! 

"That's dry yeast!! Way to prove you can't get laid Mr. Romance!" Remus wheezed, and set his ingredients on the counter. 

Roman fumed and stole forward, forcefully usurping the dry ingredients. He brought them to a different counter, the one with the stand mixer and seethed. 

“H—Hey! Wait a sec! You really want to poison your friends?” Remus gasped. 

“If I did, I’d leave the baking to you. And that is what I refuse to do.” 

“Now, I can take a hit, but you can't bake for shit. So gimme that flour back—Thank you!” Remus jeered and snatched the bag of flour while Roman was distracted by the limerick. He was such a prissy poet, he would have to analyze every syllable before moving on. 

Remus set the flour on the counter and pulled a large bowl and a measuring cup from the cabinets. He was able to pour a different packet of yeast into the bowl before Roman finished analyzing the poem. 

It was only when he skipped to the sink and turned on the water that Roman snapped out of it. 

“How dare you distract me with poetry!” he snapped and balled his fists at his sides. 

“Easily!” the duke jeered and stuck his hand under the tap. It had to be warm if he wanted things to work. And he would wash his hands, mainly because it would show Roman he was serious and set on baking. He was not about to leave everyone without a decent breakfast! 

Roman was sputtering more nonsense. Remus knew he was not going to convince the prissy princey to let him handle this, and if Roman didn't want to work with him, there was another way. 

“If you're so desperate to prove me right, the oven is big enough for two batches,” Remus taunted and conjured a bar of soap—one he wasn't allergic to. 

Roman seethed. He would prove that pest wrong! He would create the most perfect cinnamon rolls ever! And he would have Remus' disgusting batch to amplify his greatness. 

By the time he snapped out of his personal moment, Roman realized that Remus was no longer paying him any mind. The microwave was running and the idiot was bent over at the waist, staring at his bowl that he covered with a towel. 

“Wakey wakey my little babies!” Remus cooed, “It's time for you to get bakey-ed!” 

“What on earth—?” 

“I have to activate my yeast—I threw the instant at you, so you don't have to worry your pissy little head off! You know getting anxious brings out the spider!” Remus jeered and wiggled his butt for emphasis. 

Roman could pretend he was not grateful. He knew the sheer horror of waking Virgil suddenly, and he was not about to be the cause of such a threat. 

“If that's how you feel, you won't mind ceding the stand mixer,” he said and picked up his yeast packet from the floor. 

“Yeah, you need a fighting chance!” Remus laughed as the microwave dinged. He bounced on his heels, dancing to a song in his head, set off by the beeping. Roman did not want to know what that song was. 

Roman willed his hands clean and emptied his yeast into the bowl on the stand mixer. Since he really had no idea what he was doing, he took the measuring cup by the sink and filled it partially with warm water. 

“It’s a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake,” Remus sang to himself, catching Roman off guard, “If the way is hazy!” 

Roman rolled his eyes and added the water to his bowl. Surely he could start adding his other wet ingredients while Remus reminisced over a children's show. Was there milk in cinnamon roll dough? There was about to be! And of course eggs. The last time he tried baking without them was a disaster! 

He rushed to the fridge and pulled out the milk and eggs, careful not to drop them. A prince was not born to clean. And he was such a fortunate prince, setting down both ingredients before anything could startle him. 

“Then you'll have a—Break it down bitch! Lemme see you back it up!” Remus switched from singing to quiet shouting. 

Roman watched, completely flabbergasted as his idiot brother twerked and lowered himself toward the floor, still shouting: 

“Drop that ass down low and pick that motherfucker up!” 

“What the hell are you doing?” Roman scoffed. 

“Obviously I'm waiting for my yeasty babies to wake up!” Remus laughed and straightened his legs, “And singing a classic song to time it!” 

“A classic?” 

“Don't tell me you never heard ‘Cooking by the Book (A Lil Bigger Mix)’ before!” Remus laughed, only to realize that Roman had certainly not. This uncultured swine! 

“I don’t need to be familiar with a meme like that,” Roman scoffed and stole the sugar from Remus' counter. 

“Boo you whore!” Remus jeered, “Or should I say ‘priss’ instead? A whore would know the difference between a yeast packet and a condom!” 

Roman’s face decided to match his sash as he set the sugar down and turned on the mixer. He kept grumbling to himself as he added two eggs, some milk, and some sugar, accidentally spilling some milk on the floor—a humble mistake that wouldn't ruin his creation. Remus decided not to comment on his lack of measurements. Roman wanted to do this without his help, so Remus wouldn’t offer. And he wouldn’t sabotage his brother either, not that he needed to. 

What Remus would do was make some tasty cinnamon rolls! He peeked under the towel and saw a lovely little foam on the top of the mixture, which meant he could get to work! 

Without much thought, he stole the sugar and pulled out a measuring cup. He was not about to let his OCD act up if he could help it. He always liked to bake when his thoughts were too loud, since it was soothing and ritualistic. Roman had no idea how much experience Remus had, but he was about to get a glimpse. 

Once he was satisfied with the amount of sugar in his cup, Remus pulled out a rubber spatula. He was careful, slowly pouring in the sweet crystals and mixing them in the yeast goo. Roman caught sight of him and a pang of dread filled him. 

Roman was supposed to be the good Creativity. Something as sweet and adored as cinnamon rolls should have fallen under his domain! How dare Remus look like he knew what he was doing! 

Sabotage was so petty and underhanded, something Janus would do, so naturally Roman was repulsed by the idea. And sorely tempted. But he was better than that! He would just move things around, where they belong. If Remus forgot about them with that scatterbrain of his, it was his own fault. 

The duke was busy getting his stuff from the microwave when Roman gathered the eggs and milk. He paused when he saw the contents of the Pyrex measuring cup in Remus' hand. 

“Is that milk?” 

“Yup!” Remus laughed as he began adding it to his bowl, stirring it in with grace. 

“Cow's milk?” Roman pressed suspiciously 

“Yeah.”

“Why is it yellow, and with that clearish layer on top?” 

“Butter,” Remus shrugged, too focused on his task. Roman’s face blanched. How could he forget about butter!? 

With the milk and eggs in hand he moved to get to the fridge to get butter. 

At least that was his plan. 

Eek!

His foot slipped out from under him, thanks to his spill, and he fell on his back. All of the eggs escaped the carton and splattered on and around him, coating him in goop and shells. The milk, fortunately, was closed and did not spill. 

Remus glanced over his shoulder and sighed, “Did you do that on purpose?” 

“What? Why would I fall and willingly ruin my jacket with raw eggs? I'm not some saboteur with a pain kink, like you!” Roman snapped and got up. He could at least put away the milk and get some butter with some dignity. 

“I haven't done anything to ruin your rolls, Pissbaby,” Remus scoffed, “You did it all yourself. And now I don't have chicken eggs! They're the most essential part of any baked good! And oviposition! And cockatrice eggs are terrible for baking!” 

“Figure your own shit out,” Roman huffed and put the milk away. He went to the sink and tried to wash off his face and as much of his hair as he could. 

Remus tapped his chin with his knuckle. He needed the binding power of eggs, but without eggs. He made dog biscuits for his puppies, Winnie, Sarah, and Mary, and all his other critters, without eggs. He always used blood for his babies, maybe he could get away with it this time. There was only one way to find out! 

Remus summoned an ornate glass jug filled with a deep red liquid. He held it up and swirled it, eyeing it closely. Yeah, he could work with this. 

Roman could not. He dried his face with a paper towel and gawked at the jug. There was no way he was seeing what he thought he saw. Remus was deranged and feral, but he wouldn't actually put something so vile in his cinnamon rolls when he was trying to prove he could make something edible, if not better than Roman’s. 

“What is that?” 

“Huh?” Remus paused and looked at Roman curiously, “This is pig blood—It’s already been boiled to hell and back, so it's safe to eat—I wouldn't feed my sweet little babies anything dangerous, so it won't be dangerous for anyone else!” 

“It's—It’s actually blood,” Roman gawked, only capable of focusing on that detail. 

“Yup!” Remus laughed as he measured out the amount he needed. He was not going to waste any of his preciously purified resource on cowards like his brother! 

Roman, for all of his disgust, suddenly felt much more confident about his own dough. He pulled his shoulders back with pride and pulled a stick of butter from the fridge. This was child’s play! 

Remus paid him no mind as he microwaved his butter. The duke was in the zone. With all of his wet ingredients mixed, he was ready to add a pinch of salt and a fuck ton of flour. So he set that bowl aside and pulled out another one, just to make his life a little easier. 

He busted out a dry measuring cup and carefully scooped out some flour. He made sure it was packed carefully and leveled before dumping it into the clean bowl. He repeated the process a couple times until he was satisfied. 

Roman pulled his melted butter from the microwave and tried not to laugh. Remus' dish was ruined already, yet he was still trying, foolishly whisking his flour. How admirable, yet so futile! 

Roman poured his butter into the mixing bowl and let it incorporate. While that happened, he stole the flour from Remus and tried to be a good sport. 

Remus knew Roman was fighting off laughter with his petty snickers. He could laugh all he wanted. Whisking his flour was less tedious than sifting it in some doohickey! And it was easier to mix sifted flour by hand! 

Not that Roman was going to sift his flour at all. Remus watched with bated breath as Roman poured it in, straight from the bag. Without turning off the mixer. The disaster looming over the prince was too good to miss!

The cloud of white particulates exploded in Roman’s face and flour spilled out around the bowl. Roman stumbled back and miraculously set the bag of flour on the counter without much more mess. 

Of course, while Roman had some restraint when it came to laughter, Remus did not. He keeled over, cackling at Roman as he tried to dust off his face. The poor prince still had some water on his skin from washing off the egg, and the flour soaked it up into a gummy mess. 

“If you want Elizabethan makeup, use lead like a good cosplayer!” Remus wheezed, “Or are you trying to be a clown? You don’t need makeup for that!”

“If I wanted to look like a clown I would grow a mustache!” Roman snapped and rubbed the flour off his eyes. 

“You’d look hot for once if you did!” Remus wheezed and dipped his finger in his wet ingredients. 

Roman was far too irate to notice that slight movement. And he only got more irate when Remus bopped him on the nose and beamed. 

“Now you really look like a clown!” 

Roman's eye twitched when he realized what Remus had done.

“You revolting cretin!” he snapped and shoved Remus away from him. Remus laughed and got back to work. He could have his fun later. He had a task to complete! 

“You're the one who got covered in salmonella!” he jeered and slowly added a third of his flour to his wet ingredients. 

“You put blood on my face!” 

“Purified blood, milk, butter, water, and yeast!” Remus corrected and mixed his dough, “Safer than anything in your bowl!” 

Roman grumbled under his breath and checked his dough. The flour was mixed in but he would need more. He poured more in, much more carefully, lest he waste more. 

By the time he was satisfied with his dough, Remus was done mixing his monstrosity and setting up the counter to knead it. Roman would probably have to knead his dough as well. 

But first he would have to come to terms with the fact that Remus' dough looked like someone's insides as he scooped it from the bowl. Roman watched in abject horror as Remus slapped his reddened dough on the floured counter. He began to knead it roughly, slapping it with glee. The worst part was his grunting. 

"You close? You close?" he gasped with a twisted grin, as if he would get a response. 

"Yeah, you're a bad bad boy," he said and slapped his dough a couple times, "You close?" 

Roman wished he could be anywhere else, doing anything else. He was really set on proving this perverted lunatic wrong, enough to endure this idiotic display. 

“You know you need to knead that, right?” Remus asked when he realized Roman was just gawking at him. 

“Are you finished practicing for your next pornographic film?” Roman huffed and crossed his arms. He hated how filthy his jacket was. 

Remus laughed and shook his head. It was better for his thoughts if he didn’t get suggestive with only Roman there. He got back to kneading his dough, digging the heel of his palms into it. 

“Where's the money, Lebowski?!” he shouted as he continued to work. Roman could live with that. 

There was plenty of flour left on the counter from his mistake, so he simply plopped his dough on the counter and got to work. He was not pleased with how sticky his dough was, clinging to his fingers. Remus' wasn't sticking to his! 

What was worse, Remus finished kneading his dough before Roman could get it into a single mass. Roman growled to himself and got to work, ignoring the world around him. That was the perfect chance for Remus to strike. 

The duke conjured a pair of rubber gloves that completely covered his arms, and he stole Roman's bowl and mixing paddle. Granted they joined the two bowls he used, and the measuring cups, and the tiny bowl Roman used for his butter, so it wasn't sabotage. He just needed to wash the dishes. 

Remus was either very quick or Roman was struggling a lot, because he got all of the dishes done and even got the two bowls he had used greased for the next step. 

“Well, Pissy,” Remus said and set one of the bowls by Roman, “It's time to cover these and let them rise for like an hour or so!” 

“Why are you helping me?” 

“Because I feel like it,” he shrugged, “And you really need any excuse to shower and change faster!” 

Roman really couldn't deny that. He was a hot mess, and princes were supposed to slay. So he chucked his dough into the bowl before sinking out without his usual flourish. 

Remus took pity on him and covered his bowl with a warm, damp towel. Roman would absolutely need help whether he wanted it or not. He was so fortunate that he had a brother who didn't want to win because of his own stubborn stupidity. 

Once he was done covering his own dough he pulled out three sticks of butter to soften for the filling. Then Remus left the kitchen to get his hand mixer, since he would need it if Roman refused to share the stand mixer. He knew his brother all too well. But he would show that prince what happens when pride clouds the mind.

--

(2)(3)

[his-tamine]

having OCD and being lazy is so funny sometimes. 🧠: "close that door 5 more times or you will DIE!" me: "ughhghgghggh do I HAVE to??"

[fkitwebhaal]

As a person with OCD, it’s very nice to see all the companions respond to Durge’s concerns about their intrusive thoughts with empathy and kindness.

Also, as a person with OCD, I am playing the game going “NO, MY DUDES, THIS IS SOME SUPERNATURAL SHIT, I APPRECIATE THE INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS UNDERSTANDING BUT THIS IS SOME DEMON THING”

It’s an experience!

[dreamingthroughwords]

ocd is like a constant game of ping pong in my brain....bouncing back and fourth whacking the ball around between the normal and ruminations......would like it to land on normal and stay there <33

[knife-dad]

.

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Tw just in case 🩷

I'm so scared of getting sick, particularly having high cholesterol and having a heart attack or heart disease. And I want to lose weight so fucking bad but every time I try I just fall back into my disorder. And I know that my fear of getting sick is part of my OCD which caused my ed to begin with. But I can't get out of the mentality that I WILL die if I don't lose weight. Even tho my doctor has told me that I'm currently fine and healthy and young. I'm just so scared but I'm gonna try to get help. Thank you for listening/reading 🩷

Anon, I'm so glad you're taking the steps of trying to get help! OCD is a bitch, and OCD around sickness is particularly terrifying I think because even though the fears take place to an irrational degree, certain illnesses can be terrifying and it's okay to acknowledge that. I hope you're able to find a way to live your life without being controlled by these fears, because as I'm sure you know, ruminating about possibly getting sick now does not eliminate all chances of getting sick in the future. It just ruins the now.

That's a scary thought, I know. I hope you're able to work on it with a professional. From what I've heard, OCD is rooted in trauma/anxiety around trauma, and an instinctive desire to enact total control over your situation because your mind feels so desperate to avoid scary things. So it can be hard and scary to acknowledge that sometimes you can do everything "right" and scary things still happen. But I think it can also set you free when you reach a place of being able to process it properly.

Because sometimes, scary things happen that are not your fault. While it's reasonable to live your life with a certain degree of good-judgment cautions - and a therapist may help you work out what these may be - it is not your responsibility to personally foresee and prevent all possible bad outcomes. You can't do that, no one can. And it's not your job.

Perhaps you could gently remind yourself, when times get tough, that OCD and eating disorders are illnesses too, illnesses that you do in fact have in the present. They're scary and debilitating, and you're not alone in feeling that. But there's help for them. And you deserve that help. I hope you're able to find healing.

[six-of-cringe]

"If I just exact perfect and absolute vengeance against Pekka Rollins, then the voice of Jordie will be satisfied and disappear forever" WRONG. Obsessive compulsive disorder.

[weirdo-from-bonesborough]

i also just grunt in response to things because sometimes you need to acknoledge a person has spoken but you have nothing to say. also i eat hamburgers with a fork and knife for ocd reasons so i don't think that's weird.

[beetlesayz]

Hello! You've probably noticed I haven't been on here a lot recently,,

I'm going through the worst OCD spikes of my life right now. I haven't been able to do much tbh besides go to work. I'm not really sleeping or eating and it's been hard to push myself to do anything. While I love this website a lot, it's really bad for my compulsions. Because of this, I'm going to log off all social medias for awhile. I might come back every now and then, but I really think the internet is not helping. I will come back eventually though! Maybe in a week or maybe in a few weeks. Please take care of yourselves! I'll see you later :'3

[oldastronomer]

it's so fucked up that for ocd treatment you genuinely have to win the idgaf war a hundred times a day

[ghnosis]

Copia talking to you about your OCD

when you go to the mirror to pick your face bc you're stressed:

"Little bird, your unholy Father and your Papa think you are without flaw. Why do you search your face for imperfections that do not exist?"