One of my OCD issues is thinking, expecting, the worst to happen. It's the catastrophizing OCD.
I've discovered it's why often when I'm having a good time, my mind goes to how that good time could turn devastating any minute. OCD says: Sure, things are going great, now, but when has that ever lasted? People have died, they've left you, tragedy has struck.... why would this be any different?
My theory is I was predisposed to this kind of thinking (more later on the hereditary nature of my OCD) -- and all my OCD brain needed was a little bit of reality to activate it.
There are many instances in my life that I recall a nice time turning bad in an instant. It's happened to everyone, probably, but OCD likes to cling to the bad and replay it over and over to give it more power.
Two of those good-to-bad instances, in particular, stand out.
I was about 3 and my mother, grandmother and I were hiding from my grandfather who was coming down the stairs outside my grandparents' apartment complex. I don't know where we were going, but we were headed out somewhere and we were going to surprise him. As my grandmother and I were ducking behind a tree she slipped and fell into a concrete stairwell. It was maybe a 3-foot fall. What I remember most was lots of blood -- so much of it. I don't recall taking my grandmother to the hospital but I remember being there and the smell of blood on my mother's hand as she held mine.
My grandmother's head was split open. She was ultimately ok. And the pools of blood? Yes, she was bleeding, but she was also carrying a container of beet soup -- borscht -- which splattered on the ground.
The second incident was maybe 4 years later. We had just moved to a new house and were planning on going to the miniature golf course nearby for the first time. I remember being excited about the day. For some reason, my father and I were ready to leave the house before my mother was, so he and I decided to walk about a half-mile and then my mom would pick us up and we'd continue to the golf course.
My father and I were walking along a hilly, curved roadway, with no sidewalks, when suddenly I found myself thigh deep in a broken sewer grate. My left leg was in pain -- the broken metal had cut it up pretty badly.
My mother picked us up and instead of spending the evening golfing, we spent in the emergency room at Kaiser.
A pair of incidents that, in my opinion, primed the OCD pump for catastrophizing.
I've discovered it's why often when I'm having a good time, my mind goes to how that good time could turn devastating any minute. OCD says: Sure, things are going great, now, but when has that ever lasted? People have died, they've left you, tragedy has struck.... why would this be any different?
My theory is I was predisposed to this kind of thinking (more later on the hereditary nature of my OCD) -- and all my OCD brain needed was a little bit of reality to activate it.
There are many instances in my life that I recall a nice time turning bad in an instant. It's happened to everyone, probably, but OCD likes to cling to the bad and replay it over and over to give it more power.
Two of those good-to-bad instances, in particular, stand out.
I was about 3 and my mother, grandmother and I were hiding from my grandfather who was coming down the stairs outside my grandparents' apartment complex. I don't know where we were going, but we were headed out somewhere and we were going to surprise him. As my grandmother and I were ducking behind a tree she slipped and fell into a concrete stairwell. It was maybe a 3-foot fall. What I remember most was lots of blood -- so much of it. I don't recall taking my grandmother to the hospital but I remember being there and the smell of blood on my mother's hand as she held mine.
My grandmother's head was split open. She was ultimately ok. And the pools of blood? Yes, she was bleeding, but she was also carrying a container of beet soup -- borscht -- which splattered on the ground.
The second incident was maybe 4 years later. We had just moved to a new house and were planning on going to the miniature golf course nearby for the first time. I remember being excited about the day. For some reason, my father and I were ready to leave the house before my mother was, so he and I decided to walk about a half-mile and then my mom would pick us up and we'd continue to the golf course.
My father and I were walking along a hilly, curved roadway, with no sidewalks, when suddenly I found myself thigh deep in a broken sewer grate. My left leg was in pain -- the broken metal had cut it up pretty badly.
My mother picked us up and instead of spending the evening golfing, we spent in the emergency room at Kaiser.
A pair of incidents that, in my opinion, primed the OCD pump for catastrophizing.
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