IF MY MENTAL ILLNESS BOTHERS YOU, I UNDERSTAND

The thing about constantly being afraid that someone or something is contaminated is that it often overrides my ability to be polite. When I first started dating my now husband, I wasn’t always able to put my best face forward because I was too busy asking him to keep his shoulder bag away from sofa and demanding that he wash his hands. Not being an expert in contamination OCD at the time, John found the implication that my stuff was clean and his possessions were gross to be rather hurtful. And you know what? He was right.

While it has been wonderful to see the growing acceptance and accommodations society has been making to help people with mental struggles feel safer and more understood, we often forget the toll those changes can have on the people who care for them. John is a wonderful, loving partner who understood early on that picking a spouse with OCD would require high levels of patience and rather significant behavior change (bye bye shoes in the house, hello certain strict rules about where to sit and when). Ultimately, he decided the payoff was worth it--I happen to be pretty funny with very soft skin--but that doesn’t discount or erase a certain level of annoyance that my disorder has added to his life.

When I was younger, I viewed my OCD, anxiety and depression as a personal burden. I hated that they were things I had to deal with, and I didn’t have the capacity to realize their impact on other people. Or, perhaps more accurately, I found myself enraged when it impacted other people. How dare someone be upset with me for something I couldn’t control? I was the real victim unable to escape my own brain, while others only had to deal with it periodically. (Aside from my parents who had to deal with it almost as much as I did.)

What I understand now, though, is that is possible to be empathetic, understanding and kind about something even as it occasionally pisses you off. In the same way that it is unfair of other people to ask me to simply snap out of my compulsions or anxiety, it is unfair of me to expect those behaviors to roll right off everyone else’s back without a second thought or exasperated sigh.

The thing about living in a society is that we get to reap the benefits of community and helping each other. But it also means that some of my shit is going to become your shit and visa versa. This applies to everything from dating a picky eater to trying to plan a vacation with someone who works 80 hours a week and can’t be unreachable for more than an hour at a time.

In order to be in a relationship with another person (be it platonic, romantic, or familial) we end up making a series of accommodations for each other. For example, Grandma insists on having Thanksgiving at her house? I guess we better pack up the car and drive five hours even though everyone else lives nearby. That scenario, though, it wouldn’t feel inappropriate to make fun of grandma’s stubbornness on the ride over. There would probably be a few jokes and some eye rolls.

But in today’s climate, at least the more progressive parts of it, acting annoyed at anything that can be traced back to a mental disorder can feel like a no-no. The understandable annoyance that bubbles up can feel like a lacking in your character or proof that you don’t possess enough empathy for someone’s diagnosable struggle.

And wouldn’t that make you a bad partner, parent or friend?

Maybe. But probably not.

The thing about feelings it that we can’t control them. What we can control is our reaction to them. So if I ask John to wipe down his computer even though he doesn’t feel like he needs to wipe it down and that annoys him, well, that’s life, baby.

What wouldn’t work is if:

1)        He refused to wipe it down while shouting that I was crazy.

2)        He wiped it down while muttering that I am ruining his life.

3)        He rubbed the ‘contaminated” computer all over my face to teach me a lesson that germs won’t kill me.

In comparison to these types of outbursts, being annoyed for sixty seconds really isn’t that big of a deal. It’s not enough to rock our relationship’s equilibrium.

On my end, I have gotten better at allowing and expecting the people I love to be frustrated with my various demands and rules. Getting to the airport over two hours early so I don’t have an anxiety attack about being late for a flight might feel great to me but it is a sacrifice for my fellow travelers who know we would probably be fine if we didn’t have to kill so much time in an airport terminal. Such is the give and take of sharing our lives and psychology with other people.

I’m not saying all of this to give people carte blanche to shit all over the people in their lives who are struggling with various mental health symptoms.  But I do think it helps to be more aware and grateful of all the people who change their own habits and instincts so our worlds can meld more seamlessly. And I want to give a bit of permission and perspective to those who feel like they can’t be frustrated if their partner is technically the one suffering. Because you absolutely can be. We don’t experience life in a vacuum and everyone’s state of mind bleeds into those around them. It is hard to stay perpetually upbeat if your spouse is depressed and it is hard to stay completely chill if your daughter wants to reclean your car seat five seconds after you already did it because it wasn’t up to her OCD standards. (Sorry about that, Mom.)

As more of us continue to struggle with our mental health, even more people will contend with how to manage our struggles without being consumed by them. I think a good approach is not to hold it all in. To let the little bouts of annoyance out instead of acting like everything is totally fine only to explode later.

And for those of us who are being annoying--whether we can control it or not--being able to own that instead of denying it can go a long way. Especially when you remember, everyone is annoying sometimes, whether it be mental health related or not.

xoxo,

Allison

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