AMY KRYSTON
Creatures I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I do not walk through doors in a particular manner. I wash my hands no more often than any other hygienic individual. I am not afraid of germs. With the media and common misconceptions of psychological disorders circulating through society, most people have a very incorrect understanding of disorders affecting one’s mental health, and thus the majority of the population is ignorant to the reality of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and other mental afflictions. This unfortunately results in insensitive remarks and hugely inaccurate perceptions regarding OCD, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and other illnesses. People fear what they do not understand, and people will punish those who they fear. There are the normal days, when my OCD is a personal struggle, but for the most part, it does not interfere with the rest of my life, and it does not demand attention throughout the day. There are the normal days, when someone will make a comment about the spot on the whiteboard, complain about how this annoys them, and mention casually to their neighbor how they are “so OCD.� There are the rare days when the disorder, the irrational thoughts, and compulsions bear down on my head, filling me with the pain that only those who have felt their own mind turn against them could hope to understand. But the worst days occur when the misconceptions of this culture are illuminated in grotesque brilliance. I volunteered at a hospital in San Jose, California. Every Wednesday for three hours, I would visit patients on the six floors of Good Samaritan and bring them refreshments and magazines and ask them about their days, their families. Despite the stained linoleum flooring and the smell of industrial-strength disinfectants, piss, and anxiety, the hospital was a beautiful place. The laughter of new parents overpowered the cries echoing through the intensive care unit. The colors of the blossoming and drooping flowers held in glass vases betrayed the happiness and the hope that remains mostly hidden under the burden of illness and disease. But one of the best aspects of Good Samaritan were the friends I grew to know