My contamination OCD centers on my masturbation habit. The only substance I feel icky about is my own semen, and even then only if I ejaculate as a result of masturbation. Nocturnal polutions are fine.
My COCD involves all the usual COCD foibles. Compulsive showering, hand-washing and cleaning? Yes. Occasionally throwing objects away, even objects good and new or old and cherished? Yes. Regarding one's pet and one's mother as contaminated. Thinking that touching contaminated object A and then touching uncontaminated object B will carry the contamination over to B, and that touching recently contaminated B and then as-of-yet uncontaminated C will further expand the realm of filth, and so on indefinitely, until your entire home is a red zone.
I'm so tired of trying to grow used to my own sinfully spilt seed. If I do the deed on a given computer chair and in front of a given laptop and desk, those objects will feel icky to me until I clean them down with a wet cloth followed by a dry one. That is the ritual.
In the first volume of Freud's works he advises a patient to stop masturbating. It turned out that his unspecified mental illness was a result of his masturbation habit. Freud also advised couples undergoing certain mental health problems to stop having sex in certain outré positions.
This all sounds quaint and puritanical today, but maybe he was right? We're living in an age of nigh-unprecedented libertinism, but maybe that's a bad thing. Doesn't everyone today seem to harbor a combo of depression and anxiety? Could these be related to our perverted lifestyles? Let's face it, as far as the old Christian mores are concerned we're all perverts today. I'm reminded of Chesterton's quote that went something like "One may almost say that men only attain sanity when they attain sanctity."
Yes, sanctity. I remember how clean I felt as a child and how magical the world seemed. Going NoFap for extended periods of time seems to bring the magic back. That Christmas magic. Innocence. There's something wonderful about innocence. There's something horrible about lechery. There's another Chesterton quote which can be paraphrased as "For every woman with whom you fornicate the world grows a little drearier."
Whatever, I'm getting carried away. What do you guys think of my plan? Do my ideas make sense? Our parents grew up in the age of rock n roll and hippies and the pill, and we're even more libertine than they are. We live in the age in which every guy masturbates to xvideos and every girl has a dildo in her bedroom. Maybe that's not normal? Maybe masturbation is not ok? Maybe that's the reason so many of us are neurotic these days?
Just do a search on Reddit for "masturbation" and "guilt" and see how many people feel terrible after masturbating. Maybe we really are not meant to be touching ourselves like that.
All I know is I feel better when I stop masturbating, so that's what I'm going to do. It's the only thing that gives me contamination anxiety, and even during the times I managed to overcome this anxiety I still felt bad for masturbating. There's not a single masturbation session I look back on fondly, not a single one that makes me go "now that was worth it." All those countless moments are tinged with a sense of guilt and filth. It's just not worth it. I'd gladly live the rest of my life without doing it.
My COCD involves all the usual COCD foibles. Compulsive showering, hand-washing and cleaning? Yes. Occasionally throwing objects away, even objects good and new or old and cherished? Yes. Regarding one's pet and one's mother as contaminated. Thinking that touching contaminated object A and then touching uncontaminated object B will carry the contamination over to B, and that touching recently contaminated B and then as-of-yet uncontaminated C will further expand the realm of filth, and so on indefinitely, until your entire home is a red zone.
I'm so tired of trying to grow used to my own sinfully spilt seed. If I do the deed on a given computer chair and in front of a given laptop and desk, those objects will feel icky to me until I clean them down with a wet cloth followed by a dry one. That is the ritual.
In the first volume of Freud's works he advises a patient to stop masturbating. It turned out that his unspecified mental illness was a result of his masturbation habit. Freud also advised couples undergoing certain mental health problems to stop having sex in certain outré positions.
This all sounds quaint and puritanical today, but maybe he was right? We're living in an age of nigh-unprecedented libertinism, but maybe that's a bad thing. Doesn't everyone today seem to harbor a combo of depression and anxiety? Could these be related to our perverted lifestyles? Let's face it, as far as the old Christian mores are concerned we're all perverts today. I'm reminded of Chesterton's quote that went something like "One may almost say that men only attain sanity when they attain sanctity."
Yes, sanctity. I remember how clean I felt as a child and how magical the world seemed. Going NoFap for extended periods of time seems to bring the magic back. That Christmas magic. Innocence. There's something wonderful about innocence. There's something horrible about lechery. There's another Chesterton quote which can be paraphrased as "For every woman with whom you fornicate the world grows a little drearier."
Whatever, I'm getting carried away. What do you guys think of my plan? Do my ideas make sense? Our parents grew up in the age of rock n roll and hippies and the pill, and we're even more libertine than they are. We live in the age in which every guy masturbates to xvideos and every girl has a dildo in her bedroom. Maybe that's not normal? Maybe masturbation is not ok? Maybe that's the reason so many of us are neurotic these days?
Just do a search on Reddit for "masturbation" and "guilt" and see how many people feel terrible after masturbating. Maybe we really are not meant to be touching ourselves like that.
All I know is I feel better when I stop masturbating, so that's what I'm going to do. It's the only thing that gives me contamination anxiety, and even during the times I managed to overcome this anxiety I still felt bad for masturbating. There's not a single masturbation session I look back on fondly, not a single one that makes me go "now that was worth it." All those countless moments are tinged with a sense of guilt and filth. It's just not worth it. I'd gladly live the rest of my life without doing it.
