I’m a Dad With OCD and Kids Are Gross As Hell. Here’s How I Make It Work

When I laid eyes on the string toy lyingon the weathered rug at the daycare, I knew it was going to be a long hour. I hesitated for a few moments before I put my then 6-month-old son, Aksel, in the caregiver’s arms and sat down cross-legged on the floor. Sitting like that on a hard surface was only part of the reason for my distress. The other was that Aksel was now closer to this clearly germ-infested toy than I was, and it was aggravating my Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

After spending more than 20 years hiding my OCD from friends and family, I have spent the last 12-plus years engaged in a seemingly never-ending battle of exposing myself to my obsessions while subsequently resisting the urge to act compulsively in response to them. Professionals call this Exposure and Response Prevention. I call it hell. The practice involves mentally replaying my obsessions — include breaking various bones (most often my femur) or seeing my parents die in a car crash — over and over again, in all of their grotesqueness, until my brain becomes too tired to continue.A little white pill I take every evening also helps.

This story was submitted by a Fatherly reader. Opinions expressed in the story do not reflect the opinions of Fatherly as a publication. The fact that we’re printing the story does, however, reflect a belief that it is an interesting and worthwhile read.

As Aksel’s primary caregiver, I had attentively prepared for his initiation to…