Laundry and thoughts on obsessive behavior

When I was younger, I would rattle the doorknobs of single person bathrooms about 7 times to make sure it was locked. I used to reach for hand sanitizer after every time someone would touch my hands even though I’m allergic to it. I had to check my room for intruders before I went to bed, a thorough and routine assessment, and if I woke up during the night, I would have to turn on all the lights and check again. I had two mantras I’d repeat to keep me safe at night, one I’d repeat twice, the other three times. I could never wear clothes I had previously worn and hadn’t washed yet. I couldn’t use blankets after they left my room until they were washed again. I was one of those people who would wash their hands over 30 times a day. At one time I questioned whether I had OCD because I have anxiety and depression, and they’re often comorbid, but I dismissed it. While my behaviors would be classified as obsessive, none of them really were related. I mean if I was afraid of germs then why would I run around the neighborhood barefoot? And they didn’t screw up my life the way I heard about in stories I read. There were occasional checking behaviors, some germ related behaviors, some obsessive thoughts.
It was also easy to dismiss because it’s changed as I’ve grown older. I don’t rattle the doorknob more than twice now. I can usually get through a high five or hand holding without running to the hand sanitizer. I only check my room once nightly and it’s not nearly as thorough. And I can wear clothes I’ve worn before after preparing myself mentally beforehand. I still do the other behaviors but not as urgently.
But now I’m stuck thinking about it again for really a stupid reason, but it’s not stupid to me. I’m thinking about obsessive behaviors because I cried today. Over laundry. Our washing machine is currently broken and did not finish the spin cycle, so my delicates are drenched in water. My anxiety immediately flared up at the thought of them stretching out.
I should explain something. I’m very protective of my clothes. Most pieces of clothing are ones that I have accumulated over the years with unique designs and perfect fits. I’ve worked hard to amass a normal amount of clothes that I actually like, and while a third of my clothes I’m not afraid of ruining, that other two thirds I am extremely protective of. I get major anxiety over the thought of those clothes stretching, or the print cracking, or the material piling, or spilling something on them because I like them so much. Because of that I don’t wear the clothing I love as much. So while normal people might get a little anxious at their clothes stretching, it panics me. My oldest brother decided to take them out of the washing machine and put them into the dryer without consulting me at all. My mom needed to dry towels at the same time, so she was going to take out my nice clean delicates and put them in a laundry basket. Which is why I was crying. Our laundry baskets are not clean. They are where the dirty laundry goes, and usually there is all sorts of hair and particulate matter in them. I didn’t want my clean clothes to go in there, so I’m outside washing out a laundry basket and crying because the thought of my clean clothes being subjected to germs freaks me out.
If this isn’t OCD, what is it? Is it a manifestation of my anxiety? What is it? Please tell me your thoughts in the comments. I would ask a psychiatrist, but they’re all booked up for months in my area, so I’m just looking for some theories to think about.

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Saving myself

Inactivity is the weapon of the darkness. Now that school is done for good, I have a whole week of nothing. My brain has taken that to mean go to bed at 3 am every morning, eat sweets instead of meals, indulge yourself in other unpleasant ways, and never leave the cage of your room. I spend all day watching TV shows I don’t even like because for whatever reason actual emotional connection terrifies me.
But like always nobody is here to save me from my ways. My closest friend is gone this week, and no other friend has the emotional capacity to deal with this sort of self destruction. Like always I realize that nobody is going to save me.

I realize that I have to save myself. I am often stuck in these dark patterns, but slowly I am gaining the emotional resilience to free myself. I am not at full capacity, but I’m working to get there. It may be true that there is nobody there for me at times, but I am strong. I’m strong enough to be okay without other people. And I’m strong enough to free myself. This I believe, and I will keep you updated
Things I have been doing to free myself:
Started working on my art again, started watching a show I feel an actual emotional connection to, talked to my future roommate, went to the mall with a friend to physically leave my toxic environment, set up a date to watch my absolute favorite TV show with a friend, so I don’t back out of watching the season I’ve been waiting a year to watch because of my emotional state.
Things I will start doing: going to bed before 12, waking up at a set time, going on a no sugar diet, doing yoga and running in the mornings, doing at least 1 art study a day, doing facial exercises I’ve been wanting to do for a year, and setting up another opportunity to leave the house.