Overall, Christmas was nice. Everyone on their best behavior and lots of good food. My OCD has reached the point where I can eat everything and not feel very especially anxious, no matter what germy practices I've witnessed during the food prep process. But for some reason, at some point at every event with my mom, I finally have a mini-fit and complain about something. Last night it was when she picked up the plates from the already set table to move them over for use "buffet style" and held the flat clean surface of each up against her sweater. Way to get sweater crud on everyone's dinner, Mom. Since it's a wool sweater, I know she never washes it. There's no reason to complain about it, though. She'll never stop this sort of thing, it's already been done, and I'm the only one who cares anyway.
But still, I always do. The stupidest thing about it, is that I lose any "credit" I've stored up from not complaining about the first 20 things that I noticed. I'm still Ann, the one who freaks out about the germs. Someday I'll learn.
Brain-Circuit-Based Therapies for OCD
3 days ago