OCD the true story

Sometimes I hear people joke about having OCD related to some random stupid thing, "I always lock my car twice, I guess I am so OCD haha!" or " I always wipe my shoes on the mat when I enter a house, I'm so OCD!"

Hmm, not so much. If it was only so mild and pleasant and humorous. I wish.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by anxiety regarding tidiness and cleanliness. Nothing ,including my body, is clean enough. I am merely disgusted y myself and my surroundings. I feel like I could scratch my skin and pull at my hair to act out the hatred I possess for myself and my all around me. I don't want to be touched unless I know you just climbed out of a good bath.
Oddly enough, any baby aged child of mine is exempt. Can't explain that one.

I can't stand feeling this way. Often I wonder the bliss of being a slob with no order or organization to run my life.

When I go to work, no matter how busy it is, I have to clean and tidy up the nurses station. A place for everything and everything in it's place. I cannot concentrate in a cluttered mess.
 I have one patient that I am convinced must have been a former hoarder. I can picture her small dwelling full of cheap knick-knacks and garage sale junk. Probably cats and items from a flea market sale, piled up next to half-empty bowls of nastiness and cups of cold coffee. I can't stand her room, to enter it simply makes me cringe.
I miss having my own car since I always kept it clean. My lovely husband tends to leave trash in our van and shirts and sweaters and receipts on the passenger seat.
I love my kids but they always wipe their hands n their clothing of even the furniture. By now I wish I could get a new couch every month, nice and clean and unstained.

When I was a child I had an obsession with numbers. Everything had to be 4. Or multiples of 4, but preferably 4. Because it was even. If you put 4 on a see saw you would have 2 on each side and it would balance, you see. I had to turn light on and off 4 times. Among numerous other things. I thought I would have some kind of "bad luck" if I did not.

I started taking antidepressants when I was twenty for severe depression. I have battled it for most of my adult life. That and my anxiety. My horrible anxiety. I really wonder what it would be like to be normal but am aware that I may never know. I feel guilty sometimes for having children as I am afraid it may be a genetic condition. Both of my parents had experienced anxiety and depression at times in their life. As does my brother.
I can't believe my poor kids have me to be their mom. Fortunately the bad days are relatively rare.

I suppose I should just try my best and see where it gets me. Who knows?