Today, I came across a Buzzfeed article discussing the new controversial sweater that Target is selling this Christmas. It's a festive little thing, bright red and green. I love Christmas sweaters. How controversial could a sweater be?
I know, I know. We are the country offended by everything. I am the first to laugh at myself because trust me it makes life easier! However, hear me out on this one. We would not make cute little shirts making puns out of stage five critical cancer. We wouldn't make puns out of heart disease or dementia or cerebral palsy. We wouldn't use cancer as a cute way to describe things. We'd never say, "Oh I'm so breast cancer about that! I love my food to not touch and I clean my house a lot and I am organized."
We would hopefully not even make puns about depression. So why as a society do we think it is okay to make cute little puns about an extremely debilitating disorder? It's really not cool America! I rarely get offended, and to be honest it is not this Christmas shirt that offends me, it is the culture behind it. We mock mental health or worse, pretend it doesn't even really exist. Puns are rad! I love puns. And anyone who knows me know how extremely into Christmas I am. I have a really childlike heart and I live for lights and sparkles and Christmas scents. I don't think the designer of this has any ill intentions. In fact, I could almost say that I know they don't. Because the same reason this shirt idea popped into the creator's mind is the same reason why we as a society use OCD as a pun. Ignorance. Ignorance in the most innocent of forms.
If I polled people on my social media outlets, and I asked what does OCD mean to you? I guarantee they would mostly say, being really nit picky. Washing your hands a lot. Being afraid of germs. Liking to color coordinate.
This is not their fault. This is the fault of a society who does not value educating it's people about mental illness. This needs to change, and it starts with us.
You know what they wouldn't say? Hundreds of dollars in therapy and medication costs. Being highly stigmatized. Not having the grade point average you need to achieve your graduate school dreams because of the numerous amounts of courses you've struggled in or withdrawn from because of your anxiety symptoms. Losing the relationship you loved because you have so many obsessive intrusive thoughts that you can't even have the time to learn to love someone else. The feeling of having multiple panic attacks a day because you can't remember something in exact detail that happened over a year ago. Not being able to surf the Internet quickly because if you see part of a word you have to finish it all or get anxious. Having to feel your boyfriend sigh and get tired of you because you've asked him the same question 15 times in a day, and it's something like did you come to bed at 4 or 4:13 because I remember looking at my clock and seeing the time. Do you remember if we kissed each other 7 times or 8 times in the past 24 hours? Do you remember the exact steps I took before going to bed for the past 3 days? It's sitting on the bathroom floor crying until you vomit because you can't make the intrusive thoughts stop in your head. It's having to wait 2 hours in your car to go grocery shopping because the intrusive thoughts of something that happened a year ago are screaming at you to remember them in exact detail. It's medication that increases your migraines and makes you nauseated. It's missing exam questions because you typed in 15 plus 6 in your calculator 8 times to make sure you're exact and you better do that on every single question too. It's not being able to be intimate with the person you love because the day after your mind wants exact details and you can't possibly remember every one. It's trying to explain to your dad why you have to not talk right now and just leave so you can sit in your room in silence for hours to hope your brain stops yelling at you. It's knowing your fears are irrational but being terrified anyway. It's everyone in your life becoming slowly impatient with you. It's a 59% suicidal ideation rate in those recently studied. It's seeing a line drawn wrong in your notebook and having to leave class because you're anxious. It's a constant companion that you want to leave you alone. It's counting. All the time. It's having multiple notebooks filled with your details of your days in exact detail so you can reference what you need. It's the feeling of having those close to you find those hidden notebooks. It's crying yourself to sleep at night and screaming to the void, "Why me?!" It's remember others have it much worse than you do, and fighting off the guilt of feeling so sorry for yourself. It is having to write down your thoughts in order to write a paper, taking you 7 hours when it normally would have taken two. It is missing out on your job opportunity because you had a panic attack ten minutes before your interview. At times, it isn't living to the fullest. It attempts to steal everything you have, including your identity, but you refuse to let it win.
It probably shouldn't be used as a cute little pun on on a red and green shirt either.
Approximately 3.3 million Americans have OCD in any given year, including myself. We all deserve our best chance. People need other people. Let's reduce the stigma through education together and start the open, respectful dialogue that is needed to created change. I can drink egg nog to that.
If you are struggling with OCD you are not alone. Please contact the NAMI helpline at 800-950-NAMI, or The National Suicide Prevention Helpline at 1 (800) 273-8255.
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