A Narcissist Drove Me to OCD…then Forbade It

Without my OCD stress relief, I knew I’d explode. Dad’s rages drove my stress level off the charts. Then he forbade dermatillomania, my only stress relief. It was torturous! And I wasn’t the only one in agony.

Once upon a time, there was a happy little family. A narcissistic Daddy who ran the show. A sweet, codependent Mommy (“Little Warden”) who did everything he said. And their sweet, obedient Little Project, the apple of their eye, who provided tons and tons of narcissistic supply. Me.

Things limped along pretty well for the first fifteen years, if you overlook Dad’s routine blackout rages. But sooner or later, the proverbial shit will hit the proverbial fan. They never told me exactly what happened, but I have my suspicions.

Suddenly, this nice normal family went from happy and peaceful to Hurricane Narcissist…overnight. Cracks and fissures appeared in the foundation of Dad and Mom’s marriage. Everyone’s stress went through the roof.

Hello OCD!

I’d always enjoyed scratching at scabs, but then again, who doesn’t!? As C. S. Lewis wrote, “…if you’ve ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.” Now, I discovered pockets of “junk” in my facial pores. I was obsessed with squeezing them out, every day, multiple times a day. The rush, the stress relief, the peace it brought was addictive.

When I was picking, the real world receded from view. I entered a trance-like serene state. There was a chasm between me and my chaotic reality. I could think about everything clearly, honestly, intuitively. My parents’ mind control fell away and I was just me, thinking my own thoughts, not what I was supposed to think.

And it was addictive.

Read all about how OCD magically disappeared when I escaped the narcissists…here!

Originally published at blogs.psychcentral.com.