#germophobia

That feeling when you really want to be there for your ride-or-die when she's sick, but you simultaneously really hate germs.

you know what they never show?

the shit that doesn't make sense to people without it. they always show characters just cleaning a lot, sometimes wearing gloves. but i don't decontaminate in a way that makes sense to people. i wipe everything that goes outside (my phone, glasses, etc) that i then take into my "clean space" down with clorox wipes. i can't touch anything that's been "contaminated" that i haven't wiped without washing my hands after. i can't wear "contaminated" clothing in bed. i shower if i've been "contaminated", which used to be every time i went outside, and is now just when i go in some public spaces i consider particularly contaminated, like a bus or school. my hands are scarred from how much i wash them, and i used to wash them until they bled. i have to wait two weeks to touch anything i've bought from outside, like books, without washing my hands, because two weeks is how long norovirus can survive on most surfaces. i can't visit a sick person in case i catch it.

they also never show the compulsions that don't link up with contamination. the thing with compulsions is that sometimes they have no link to the intrusive thought, beyond what the mind assigns it. for instance, ever since i was a child, i've had to count the stairs as i go up and make sure the second step i take at the top is a multiple or factor of 12, or else i'll get sick. that makes no sense. that's part of the disorder: disordered thinking.

they never depict the thoughts either. i get anxious and have even had panic attacks whenever someone near me is sick, to the point i once had to move in with my grandparents for weeks because my mom got the stomach flu. ocd distorts reality, obsessing over things until they warp into something unrecognizable. my thoughts make no sense, because they're disordered. i know every fact there is to know about the transmission and symptoms of norovirus, but that doesn't stop my mind from forming link after link after link, taking fact and transforming it into fiction. norovirus can't be spread by contact alone, but my brain still insists it will absorb into my skin.

ocd is always the butt of the joke. it's a funny character quirk that they obsessively clean, something for the others to joke about. it's funny that a speck of dirt drives them crazy.

i wish it was funny. i wish it was just being a bit of a neat freak. i wish my mind could be eased by wiping down a table. ocd doesn't rest, except for the momentary relief given for completing a compulsion before the tide crashes back in. i can't laugh when it steals my breath in a panic over something that doesn't exist, when it destroys my body, when it means i can't trust my own mind.