Just a germaphobe living in a dirty world - this is what life is like when you obsess over all things sanitary.
“Hi, My name is Benita and I’m a germaphobe.” That’s what I imagine I’d say if I ever met others like me at our version of Alcoholics Anonymous. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Howard Hughes (neither the billionaire nor the recluse), but my besties are Febreeze and Dettol.
Here’s what a day in my life looks like: The moment I step out of my house, I enter “germy” territory, where those sneaky scoundrels reign supreme. I wipe my office table before plopping my laptop down. I have a pathological urge to clean my phone every night. After every step of the cooking process, I wash my hands. And I never touch my bed unless I’ve showered.
But before you come at me for my peculiar tendencies, I wasn’t always like that…
Dirty is not a bad word
Growing up, I ran around and face-planted in the dirt like any kid at the playground. Camping in the middle of the forest? No problem. Makeshift “hole in the ground” restrooms? Sure thing. Germs and anti-bacterial wipes weren’t part of my vocabulary, unlike my niece, who was born during the pandemic and had a brief love affair with hand sanitiser. For a while, she was my twin flame.
In my teenage years, I threw myself on questionable hotel beds with wild abandon, nary a thought spared for the germs wriggling on me. I traipsed through bat caves, plucked leeches off my skin after white water rafting, and partied next to piles of puke and sticky substances of unknown origins.
I don’t recall when the cleanliness switch flipped, but it was sometime in the last decade or so. It’s like a spotlight flickered on, alerting me to dirt everywhere.
That’s when I started avoiding public toilets that looked remotely terrifying, especially those in rundown hawker centres or creaky industrial buildings. On the bright side, that also meant I became well-versed in the location of Singapore’s cleanest restrooms (hotels and the highest floors of fancy malls are my go-to).
My new normal
Did you know there’s a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder referred to as contamination OCD? I probably have it, though I’ve never gotten an expert’s point of view. So, I spoke to Haanusia Prithivi Raj, a clinical psychologist at Annabelle Psychology, for clearer insight.
She tells me it’s a neurological condition characterised by obsessions (intrusive thoughts, fears and doubts) and compulsions (physical and mental repetitive actions that provide relief). A fear of contamination is one of the common presentations of OCD. When “normal fears” are amplified, they can trigger extreme anxiety in the body.
This results in a “fight or flight response, where we engage in compulsions to help reduce anxiety”, she explains. Behaviours can include excessive hand washing and steering clear of contact with “dirty” things to allay anxiety.
“A key point to remember is that OCD thoughts don’t make sense and don’t follow logical thought processes,” she says. Well, judging by the baffled looks I occasionally get from my family, the irrational bit sounds like me.
One less problem without germs
On trains and buses, I’d rather stumble than reach a trembling hand to the pole that’s been caressed by millions of people – though it softly calls out to me with its steadiness. I fare better on taxis, though I once sat next to a hoarder’s heap of junk. Oh, the stench.
As I imagined invisible prickles crawling up my arm, it took every drop of self-control not to throw open the door of the moving car and fling myself to freedom. Maybe it was just in my mind, but that ride left me feeling itchy till I hit the shower.
Don’t get me started on hotel rooms. I wipe down every surface – yes, even light switches. Next, I meticulously inspect the bedsheets for dirt and hair – nothing less than pristine will do. The anxiety doesn’t ease until everything passes my test. On one occasion, when I discovered a suspicious-looking brown scuff mark by my arm on the bed, I slept as stiff as a log all night.
At home, my obsession with cleanliness flares up, since it’s my safe space. Once, I stifled a shriek when a visitor plopped down on my bed in their outside clothes. I couldn’t stop thinking about those tiny germs cackling with unhinged glee while they cavorted around my mattress. So I did what any (in)sane person would do – I changed the sheets immediately after they left.
Like the lack of logic Haanusia mentions, there aren’t any rules to my chaotic penchant for cleanliness. I wash my hands after receiving every package from The Outside World but leave my bags lying around. I’m completely fine sitting in a restaurant where many have come before me. However, I die a little inside when I’m forced to touch frayed menus that look like they’ve crumbled under the weight of a thousand thumbprints.
When the pandemic hit, I finally felt understood. One silver lining? I could proudly wipe down my entire plane seat without being subjected to strange stares.
Pre-Covid, I once endured a 2-hour flight on a janky airline sitting ramrod straight without my back touching the seat because it looked nasty. Meanwhile, everyone else snoozed in complete oblivion. These days, they just give me the piteous “Oh dear, she’s still stuck in 2020” look. But hey, I’ll take the side-eye as I snuggle into my sterilised seat.
The dirt on contamination OCD
People tell me I’m overthinking things. It’s just germs and dirt, right? No big deal. We can’t even see those microscopic pests. But once the thought sticks in my mind, it consumes me like a scab you need to scratch. If any of this sounds familiar to you, well, there’s a warm bath waiting for you at the end of the grimy tunnel, because OCD is a treatable condition.
“A small but important step in fighting OCD is to recognise that the person often doesn’t have control of their thoughts and fears,” Haanusia explains. Naming these as OCD’s thoughts (instead of theirs) can be useful in externalising them to help the individual feel supported.
Recovery will take time, but she tells me that one of the more effective treatments is cognitive behaviour therapy with exposure and response prevention, which helps to change distorted thinking patterns and actions. In breaking the cycle of obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviours, you can rewire the brain’s fear circuit. Repeat after me: Everyday germs may be revolting, but they’re not life-threatening!
“A lot of people with OCD who have recovered go on to achieve wonderful things in their lives,” she says. “With the right help and support, you can have a life without unnecessary fears and discomfort.”
Living life as a clean queen
Truth be told, now that Covid is a vague memory, I’ve had a tiny breakthrough. The anxiety comes and goes in smaller waves. I’ve stopped packing anti-bacterial sprays in my bag, and strangely, I don’t miss them.
When my adorable niece runs to me with grubby outstretched hands and snot dripping out of her nose, I take the embrace in stride. Plus, I’m too sluggish to shower every time I return home after stepping out for just a few minutes. Could that be what’s keeping me from entering extreme OCD territory?
These days, I’m working on turning my fixation away from pesky germs so they can’t stop me from living my best life. It’s possible that one day I won’t care as much, but until then, I’ll happily keep my home sparkling clean because it’s my sanctuary.
Maybe next time you’ll see me gingerly place my phone on a sticky coffee shop table. Now, that’s progress. In the meantime, I’ll let my clean freak flag fly, so don’t judge me for it.