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If I had a pound for every time someone told me they had “a little bit of OCD”, I would be a very rich woman. Rich Elon Musk. Mr. Alli rich. Taylor Swift rich.
I would be writing this column from my yacht in the Bahamas, refusing to return to Britain unless the Prime Minister could guarantee me a police escort from my private jet to one of my many mansions.
As it is, I’m writing this from the kitchen table of my semi-detached house in South London, wondering when it would be reasonable to turn on the central heating (mid-November?).
One morning at age 11, I woke up convinced I was dying of AIDS and that I was going to pass it on to my family, writes Bryony Gordon (pictured now, left, and aged nine, on the left). right).
It never ceases to amaze me how often a serious mental illness (obsessive-compulsive disorder was once described by the World Health Organization as one of the most debilitating on the planet) is used as shorthand for someone who is extremely neat and organized. , as a way of congratulating a person for their neatness. It would be like describing a multitasker as “a bit schizophrenic”; not only wildly offensive, but wildly inaccurate in terms of conveying what it’s really like to live with it.
It’s currently OCD Awareness Week, and while I normally give short shrift to these types of events, since they usually do nothing more than give corporations an excuse to “mental healthwash” their brands, I’ll make an exception. with OCD.
This is partly because I have suffered from it since I was a child and partly because few people talk about its reality, which causes thousands of people (an estimated 1.2 percent of the population suffers from this condition) to suffer. needlessly. a result.
For me, OCD has never manifested itself as a need to be super organized and tidy, much to the disappointment of my husband, who jokes that he wishes I had “the good kind of OCD.” In truth, there is no good guy. It’s called obsessive-compulsive disorder for a reason: regardless of how it manifests, it causes significant distress to the person experiencing it.
But the apparent disorder of my symptoms meant that it took me years to learn that what I had was a definable mental illness that could be alleviated with treatment. In that time I developed countless unhelpful coping mechanisms (alcohol addiction being the main one) to try to deal with the unfathomable darkness in my brain. There was nothing fun, cute, or admirable about having more than a little bit of OCD.
This is the harsh reality of obsessive-compulsive disorder: sometimes it makes you feel more like Ted Bundy than David Beckham. At 11, I woke up one morning convinced that I was dying of AIDS and that I was going to pass it on to my family. So I washed my hands obsessively, slept with my toothbrush under my pillow, and began muttering phrases under my breath that I hoped would keep them alive.
As I entered my teens, my brain started telling me I might have hurt someone and I erased it in horror; In addition to being infected with a disease, I became convinced that he might be a serial killer pedophile (and we wonder why no one talks about OCD!).
I only started getting help for OCD when I was 30, when I gave birth to my daughter and the monster voice in my head started telling me all the horrible things that could happen to her. I would sit for hours next to his cot in the dark, watching his chest rise and fall, repeating phrases that I hoped would prevent anything bad from happening to him.
Things as simple as changing her diaper or preparing her food became almost impossible because of the terrible questions running through my brain: What if I hurt her or put poison in her bottle?
I later learned that OCD is incredibly common in new mothers, whose brains go into a kind of hormonal overload due to lack of sleep and who, like me, often find those precious first months of parenthood a nightmare. frightening thing of which there seems to be nothing. escape.
I think the best way to describe OCD is that your brain refuses to recognize what your eyes can see: that your hands are clean, that the oven is off, that the iron is unplugged, or that the obstacle you just passed. road was not a human.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder sometimes makes you feel more like Ted Bundy than David Beckham, Bryony writes. Former footballer Beckham previously spoke about his OCD
Paradoxically, OCD is our brain’s attempt to help us feel safe, but it achieves the opposite. Simply put, OCD involves trying to calm intrusive thoughts (obsessions) with rituals (compulsions).
We all have intrusive thoughts: what would happen if I pushed that person in front of the train or jumped off this balcony? – but most of us immediately dismiss them as brain randomness, rather than proof of something inherently bad within us, and get on with the day. But someone with OCD will become distressed by those thoughts and ruminate on them over and over again.
Through a combination of antidepressants and therapy (the gold standard for OCD is something called Exposure and Response Prevention, which involves patients gradually confronting their obsessions rather than trying to avoid them) I now live a largely free life. of OCD.
But for me the most useful thing has been talking about it publicly and meeting other people who suffer from this very misunderstood disease.
That’s why I dedicated this week’s episode of my podcast, The Life of Bryony, to the topic, with an interview with Cranford actress Kimberley Nixon, who speaks candidly and movingly about her terrifying experience with OCD after the traumatic birth of his first child during the pandemic. I hope you listen to it and that it gives you pause the next time you think about describing yourself as “a little OCD.”
A year after Russell Brand was accused of rape and sexual assault, having denied all allegations, he has conveniently become a born again Christian. This week he could be found on his social media, selling a £180 amulet to protect against “evil energies”.
“What incredible peace of mind it is to know that I’m redeemed,” he recently told his 11 million followers on X. Who needs law and justice, huh, when you have God?
American model Paloma Elsesserm, one of the only plus-size women on the runway, was relatively covered compared to her slimmer counterparts.
Victoria’s Secret should remain canceled
What did we do during the five years that Victoria’s Secret couldn’t present its annual show? I was sent to New York to cover the show in 2015, where then-boss Ed Razek referred to the adult women gracing the runway as “girls” and lathered them with 100 bottles of body lotion (Razek ended up resigning in 2019). after persistent complaints created a culture of misogyny within the brand).
Times have changed, obviously, so this week we were “offered” a more modern version of the show, with trans models. However, it was noted that Paloma Elsesser, one of the only plus-size women on the runway, was relatively covered compared to her slimmer counterparts; While the Hadid sisters were wearing thongs, Paloma was wearing a nightgown.
Judging by this display, it might be time to treat the show like that pair of gray granny pants we all have at the bottom of our underwear drawer: tossing them in the trash, where they firmly belong.
What Ozempic’s indignation reveals
Weight-loss vaccines could be made available to unemployed people struggling with obesity and suddenly everyone is up in arms because the NHS is “overwhelmed” by demand.
This is where you realize that, for all our obsession with diets and weight loss, most people don’t really care about helping those who are overweight: they just care about having a group of people with who feel smugly superior!
trusted clinic
Apparently ‘micro walks’ of between 10 and 30 seconds are the key to better health, with short bursts of indoor physical activity burning a surprising amount of calories. But I’m not convinced. Forget the calories: For me, the biggest benefit of walking is that a long walk outside in nature can clear your mind.