The Flea: A Case for Patient Portrayal
For children diagnosed with mental illness, it’s important for them to gain an understanding of their condition while also showing them that it’s possible to live a good life.
This week, I’ve been thinking about my own introduction to OCD - as well as a children’s book I read while in grad school - and I’ve come to realize just how life-changing it could be to receive this information from a person living with the condition instead of a third party.
I remember how, when my child psychologist first introduced OCD to me, she didn’t use the acronym or tell me about what I was doing in therapy. I thought I was taking extra classes, like in school, except that I was confused because I was always a stellar student who didn’t need extra academic support.
These sessions, though, weren’t like typical classes - and the psychologist explained to me that my brain works differently than other people’s and recycles thoughts instead of throwing them away. It was my job, she told me, to make those thoughts go away.
I didn’t know why my head worked differently, but I quickly understood that my real job was to do my best to be like everyone else. As an adult, I’m still unlearning some of the adaptations I used back then - one of the many reasons why I hope to publish my book and share my journey with young or newly diagnosed people who might not know much about the disorder beyond an individual practicioner’s explanations.
I also hope that, by sharing stories in this blog and my book, that I can combat more misleading and harmful portrayals of OCD by people who don’t know the disorder from personal experience, such as one children’s book I discovered in a children’s literature class in grad school.
In the book, several farm animals suddenly develop OCD-like symptoms thanks to a flea, named O.C. Flea, appearing. The animals’ symptoms are described as “strange” on the first page and the speech the flea delivers about his intent is disturbing on several levels.
The first problem with portraying OCD as a flea is that a flea is an external source. This might not seem like a huge problem, but it’s absolutely incorrect to say that OCD is like hearing voices spoken by someone else. The idea of a little flea telling the animals what to do is not only deeply inaccurate to the nature of OCD, but also potentially scary for young children.
As a child who obsessed about germs and bugs, who was always terrified of coming home from school with lice, and who still shies away from most insects even at the ripe age of 29, I would have been even more frightened to think of my OCD as a bug, especially one known to carry many diseases. I also would have hated the thought of it spreading to people I loved and might have isolated myself further upon reading this.
Last but definitely not least, the flea’s introductory speech of “From now on you are going to do everything I tell you to do. If you don’t, you will feel really awful, and bad things might happen to you. And if you tell anyone about me, all the bad things will happen!” rubs me the wrong way for several reasons, culminating with the fact that the child is being encouraged to not tell about what’s going on in their head - which can delay or indefinitely stall proper care.
I’m not entirely sure what kind of metaphor I would use to explain OCD to a very young child. Personally, I’ve never really been able to picture my OCD as anything other than a part of my brain - even though I love all sorts of fantasy and science fiction. But it’s books like this that have impressed upon me the need to have someone who understands what daily life is like to create an accurate explanation.
As a writer, I frequently research the subjects I incorporate into both my stories at work and the ones I entertain myself with at home - including different mental health diagnoses. I’m well aware that I’m coming at these subjects as an outsider, even if I have friends with similar lived experiences to what I’m researching. I know that there’s no way for me to fully “get it” aside from trusting the stories of people who have been there before.
I sometimes wonder if I would have judged myself less as a child if I knew other people with OCD, if I didn’t think it was “strange” or “weird,” if I didn’t trust bullies instead of my family because I figured that such a large number of people couldn’t be wrong. It’s why I hope to continue educating people about what I’m qualified to teach, and learn from others what I don’t know. It’s only with this openness that we can have a real understanding of mental health that goes beyond stereotypes and assumptions.
Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.