Skip to main content

OCD's musical mind games

Most everyone gets a song stuck in their head now and then. I certainly do. But recently OCD has gotten involved and it's turned from a simple annoyance to something of a concern.

I realize this is one of those things that the general population isn't going to fully understand -- I think you need to have OCD or another form of anxiety to get it -- but I feel pretty safe talking about it here.

It sounds like I'm joking, but here goes: For about the past month, I'd say way more than half the time I wake up in the morning I have Wham's "Careless Whisper" going through my head -- instantly. "I'm never gonna dance again, Guilty feet have got no rhythm ... Should have known better than to cheat a friend."

Just those words.

I admit, this sounds funny. The scary thing is I don't hear this song enough, if ever these days, for it to be so stuck in my head. It was never a favorite song of mine either. I didn't NOT like it, I just never sought it out.

So why is it there almost every morning?

That's what OCD asks, and then, OCD being OCD, it gives me a variety of answers to worry about rather than just letting it go.

Did you cheat a friend? You must thinking you cheated a friend.

What are you feeling guilty about?

You must be feeling guilty about something. Who did you cheat?

And on and on it goes. I realize it's OCD asking those questions, but part of me wonders what my subconscious is legitimately trying to tell me?

Now, instead of the song simply being stuck in my head when I wake up in the morning, I worry during the day that I've cheated a friend and don't know it.

It sounds crazy -- it feels crazy. But for now I'm definitely losing this OCD game.

I've put way too much thought into the song. Analyzing the words, wondering what they mean to my life, etc. If you have OCD, you know that kind of thinking can spiral out of control.

Not sure what to do, except maybe bombard my brain with other songs, hoping something else will get stuck in my head and replace "Careless Whisper."

And then hope that I don't wake up with the song in my head again tomorrow morning.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The day I turned claustrophobic

I never thought I was claustrophobic -- it never even occurred to me that I might be. Until I went for my first MRI. I'm not sure this has anything to do with OCD, though in my case I think it does, because now when faced with an MRI I tend to catastrophize -- focusing on having the worst possible experience in that tube weeks ahead of the actual appointment. For my first MRI I was offered a Valium to keep me calm. I cockily said no, don't need it, and proceeded to get on the MRI table. My recollection is that I didn't start to panic right away, as they slid me head first into the tube. But I do recall starting to get a little uncomfortable. Then they handed me a panic button in case I needed to get out. They turned the machine on and in maybe a second -- at most -- I was hitting away at the button. Kicking my legs up and down. Yelling something to the effect of "Get me out. Now!" Of course I was embarrassed and it goes without saying that I got no furth

OCD, just like my dad

My father used to collect soap. I don't think he meant to, but I remember as a child, walking into my parents' bathroom and seeing a pile, a heap, of used bars of soap on his side of the counter. It didn't strike me as strange, so much, as it did unique. I never asked why there was so much soap -- why he didn't just finish off one bar before starting another -- but I probably wondered. In recent years there have been studies on whether OCD has a genetic component. I've been involved in a couple. But to me, there's no question, now, looking back with more knowledge, that my father's pile of soap was a sign of obsessive-compulsive disorder. My belief is that once he used a bar of soap for what his OCD brain told him was the "right" amount of time, it was time to move on to the next. Maybe OCD told him the old bar was no longer clean. Or maybe it just felt "wrong." My father was interesting in that he would shower just once a wee

A fear of not knowing

Every Sunday night I feel compelled to check my work email to see what came in over the weekend. It's not that I'm required to, nor do I even need to, it's that I have a great fear of things going on that I am not aware of. It's OCD telling me, "You'd better check to see if your co-workers have been trying to reach you. Maybe you're missing something important. This could when they figure out you're no good at what you do. Check the email. Check it. Check it." Never mind that anyone who needs me can reach me by cell -- everyone has my number and I always have my phone. It's hard to describe the feeling of anxiety that comes over me. I tell myself not to check my email, but 99 percent of the time, it's less painful to essentially start my work week on Sunday night, than it is to ruminate on what might be going on without me knowing. For the first time, tonight, as I was checking my work email I saw a connection with something I used