Pathological Perfectionist

I Overthought This Poem Because of My OCD

Inktober Illness III - OCD by Shawn Coss

I’m pathologically an uptight perfectionist

Scared of everything

Including my own shadow

I took drawn out baths as a kid

Refused to get out until I was ready

Compulsively brushed and removed

My hair for hours

Counted sidewalk cracks

Looked into the mirror until it cracked

I scratched at my skin

Like a snake shedding

Had a meltdown

With the slightest change in schedule

Once I cried because Christmas came early!

Constantly the caught cog

In my family’s wheel

A knot of frustration in my mom’s skull

Even though she created this monster

An imprint of my upbringing

Feeling so unstable

Teetering on the edge of insanity

That I corrected course

By clinging tightly to control

My brain is like a dog with a bone

It latches onto a thought

And won’t let go

Won't let go

Let go......

I have Goldilocks OCD

“This one’s too cold

This one’s too hot

This one is Just Right!”

I try to shake off the intrusive images

Like an Etch-a-Sketch

Snag them on branches

Leave a broken trail of ideas

Intrusions and ideas

Ideas

Ideas…...

I ruminate until I tie myself into knots

Until I can’t untangle the ropes

I’m suspended

But not sexy like Shibari

Like I’m a bitch slave to my OCD

Like a fly spun in a web

Of my own creation

Volatile train of thought

Run right off the rails

Right off the rails

Off the rails......

I listen to the same song 20 times

And keep hitting rewind

Because I have trouble moving on

And letting go

Letting go

Just let go!

The “overthinking disorder”

Forever a Doubting Thomas

Questioning everything in existence

And my place in it

Now I'm driving myself insane

How can I establish a routine

If it means that I need to do it perfectly?

I’ll devote to daily regimen like religion

Beat it to death like a busted up metaphor

Practice makes perfect!

And I must be perfect

Illusive, impossible pursuit of perfection

I take a handful of happy pills a day

Because my head isn’t screwed on right

(Well, more like too tight)

I want to explode from the pressure

But I only implode inside

I can quietly drown in front of you

Without showing a drop of pain

On my face

Anything else would be

An inconvenient disgrace

(Am I a mistake?)

I obsess about my shame

I obsess about people leaving

I obsess about love

I obsess about my mistakes

I obsess about death

About crashing my car

Accidentally running over an animal

Or flattening a person to the pavement

About a million different scenarios

Where a bigot tortures and kills me

My life flashing before my eyes

Everywhere I look

I worry if people really love me

Or they’re lying

I’ve loved some as intensely

As Joe Goldberg

(Minus the murder and stalking)

Surely I can out-run my racing reasoning?

But fall into the clutches of my vices

I compulsively pick my skin

I compulsively control my diet

I compulsively comb through & conceal flaws

I compulsively check my phone

I compulsively check how my body looks

Surely this repetitive action

Will cure my anxiety this time?

Perfect perfect perfect

I have to be PERFECT at all times

Anything else is an inconvenient disgrace

(Again I beg, am I a mistake??)

Is this poem too long?

Am I too loud?

Then again, this is probably

Just me compulsively confessing!

Fuck, I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?

I always am!

A common OCD paranoia

Is that people will recoil in horror

When they peer inside

The inner mechanics of your mind

My cogs and wheels grind together

Greaseless

A headache of grief

And the self-hating hangover

Kills me every time

I’m so tightly wound

I feel like I might snap any second

The only cure I can think of

Is letting go of control

Accept that the only constant is change

My greatest fear but closest friend

I think I finally love me

Will you still love me?

Do you still love me?

Do you love me??

Will you always love me???

Please...not just surface level

Even though I'm hollowed out

In the attic of my mind

There's a burnt out, busted bulb

No one's home

Wait...

Footsteps approaching...

Just my OCD

Dragging me into the dark depths

Where no one

And nothing

Makes a sound

Just

An echo

“Think you could evade me?

You’ll never be perfect…”

OCD art by Sadie Reda