Hubby and I just endured a traumatic event that revealed that I probably have OCPD (obessive-compulsive personality disorder). When I read the entire wikipedia page I was shocked my picture wasn't on there. My husband actually joked the same. And now we're wondering, should we avoid having children, based on this experience. That is why I came to this forum; I have seen other posts regarding OCD and this forum has moms on it, so I came here to get the advice of moms (and dads too if they are here).
What was the traumatic event, you may be wondering? We had been planning to get a dog for a few years, so we finally did it. We found the puppy we wanted. I'd never been around animals growing up, so I had no idea what to expect. Reading things on the internet about dogs did not prepare me for what happened. I was mostly doing this for him, because he has a need for the companionship of a loyal guard dog in his life. He grew up with dogs but hadn't had a dog in years and felt a void that only a dog can fulfill. I love my husband, and agreed to give it a try.
We get the dog home and in its crate with food, water, and blanket, but within less than an hour, I completely flipped out. The dog pooped on the blanket (and it was runny) and peed several times within 30 minutes. But that wasn't the worst part. The doggy smell. Like a smell from hell. It filled up the entire house. Every room in my clean house. I imagined the smell getting into every corner, every cranny, the cushions, my clothing, the carpet, even non-fabric items. I felt filthy; I felt like I needed a shower right away; my skin felt dirty and I compulsively spit every 5 minute when I feel like I'm surrounded by filth. I was spitting the entire drive home (long drive) because I was the one holding the puppy and petting it. I felt dirty while holding the puppy because it stunk and I noticed it had fleas on its head which nearly caused me to flip out too, but I calmed myself down and got over it…
So back to the doggy smell and the horrible scene that played out. Hubby cleaned up the poo and pee messes because I flipped out and was curled into a ball on the sofa under a blanket crying. I realize this may sound hilarious, but in the moment, it wasn't. It was hell on earth. The "doggy smell" permeated everything, even after the poop and pee were cleaned up. So I knew that it was coming from the dog itself rather than its messes. We found out by calling several dog-owning friends that it would take up to 3 months for this smell to go away because you have to space out dog washings and it just takes time. No, no, no I could not handle this. I ended up screaming that this was a deal breaker; I would not live like this. I can't live like an animal and have my house smell like dirty dog.
In fact, I had told hubby this before getting the dog (I said dog smell would be a deal breaker), and I even told the guy we adopted the puppy from. He joked he'd leave a spot available for the dog in case we needed to return him...I thought he was joking...
I can endure short-term stinky smells like if the dog farts, which he did, on the drive home. Solution: roll down window and bad smell will go away. That's fine. It's fine because it's going to be gone, quickly. Or even if he pooped or peed on something once per month that would be ok because that's not very often and can be dealt with rather quickly. But I imagined him pooping and peeing constantly, and me being the one to clean it up. I wasn't willing to be a doggy maid and I wasn't willing to allow my house to become dirty or smell filthy. The stink was the worst part. I cannot endure bad smells that will not dissipate within a few minutes. No, I cannot do that. I will not have my clean environment turned filthy.
I could not eat, I could not touch food or think about food even though I hadn't eaten for over 10 hours and was starving. Appetite gone. Replaced with nausea. The smell nauseated me it was so bad. It's ok if I have to put up with doggy smell at a friend's house for a little while because I know that I can escape, get to my house where it's clean, get a shower, throw my clothes into the washer, maybe add a little bleach if I feel it's needed, and then it will all be over and I'll be clean again.
You may be thinking I sound like a lunatic. You may be right. I don't know. And in spite of how grossed out I felt while holding the puppy and petting him for hours on the drive home, and in spite of the fact that it pooped and peed and stunk up my clean house, I still felt like I loved the puppy and when hubby had to take it back we were both heartbroken and devastated. Anxiety overtook me almost immediately and I got almost no sleep that night, had nervous bowel movements for hours, etc. The only thing that brought comfort was cleaning. After the puppy was removed from the house I set about restoring order, which made me feel better to some degree. I vacuumed, swept, mopped, did laundry, dishes, etc. I had to clean up that which had been disrupted and contaminated. Contaminated. That's the word I've been looking for. My house had been contaminated by the presence of this innocent, adorable, cute, lovable, stinky, dirty, filthy puppy. Even though he never even left his crate. Didn't matter. His stink had already penetrated my house. Even with the door open and fans running and windows all open, the smell was still present. We waited up for 1 hour for it to dissipate. It did not. It lingered even with ample exits and fans blowing air out. This I could not and would not tolerate. Imagine how bad it would be with doors and windows closed again. A wall of thick stench penetrating and contaminating everything. No.
And so we returned the puppy. And it is with shock, depression, anxiety, fear, sadness, and a surprisingly new void in my heart that I write this. Do I have OCPD? Will I react this way if I have children? Children don't stink up the whole house without stopping…there is no "child smell" like there is a "doggy smell." But hubby is almost completely convinced based on this dog experience that children are out of the question now. Maybe he's right. I don't know. What do you think? Right now, I don't know what to think…even after talking about it with hubby for hours already.