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mgpulliam
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PathStep 1 Compassion hearts8 Forum posts1 Forum upvotes2 Current upvotes2 Age GroupAdult Last activeJanuary, 2025 Member sinceJanuary 21, 2025
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OCD or BDD?
OCD & Related Behaviors / by mgpulliam
Last post
 January 21st
...See more I can’t stop thinking about my hair. It’s like this constant pull, this need to fix it, make it right, make it perfect. I tell myself that it’s just a haircut, that it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But then the urge comes—the need to check the mirror, adjust it, tweak it, again and again. It’s exhausting, but it’s like I can’t help myself. I have to make sure it looks exactly the way I imagined it, even if I’ve already spent hours doing so. When I look in the mirror, it’s like I’m trapped in a loop. I start by adjusting a little here, a little there, and before I know it, I’ve spent so much time on it that my thoughts start to blur together. It’s like everything else fades away, and I can’t focus on anything else. All I see is the imperfect parts, the things I can’t fix. The wrong angles. The uneven edges. The things that make me feel less than, like I’m failing at something so simple. These compulsive urges aren’t just about looking good or making sure everything is symmetrical—it’s deeper than that. When my hair isn’t “right,” when I don’t feel perfect, it feels like I’m not worthy. I can’t shake the idea that people won’t see me as beautiful, won’t see me as confident. I want to feel good about myself, to feel comfortable, but every time I check again, I’m reminded that it’s not how I envisioned it, and I’m left with this nagging dissatisfaction that won’t let me go. I want to stop. I want to be able to let go and move on from it, but every time I try, it’s like something inside me refuses. The urge to fix it, to make it right, is overwhelming. It feels like if I don’t get it perfect, then I’m somehow failing—not just at my hair, but at taking care of myself, at being the person I want to be. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let go of these compulsive thoughts. It’s like my mind can’t rest until I’m satisfied with the way I look, but I know I never will be. Even when I think I’m done, I just go back again. It’s a cycle I can’t break, and it makes me feel so out of control. Maybe it’s not just about my hair. Maybe it’s about how I see myself—about feeling enough, worthy enough. And when it’s not right, nothing feels right.
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