You might think this doesn't belong on depression, but I just want people to understand. It gets on my last nerve when people think ocd is about having clean hands and rearranging the tea cups. So I thought I'd describe a moment in the hell of my ocd.

I"m 35, holding my new baby, rocking, nursing. It's quiet, no one awake but us. She rests one tiny hand on my breast, content.

And then a thought rises through a crack in the bowels of hell and whispers, "Kill her."

It's as if a bomb has unexpectedly exploded in my brain. I am launched forward into a frenzy of thought yet never leaving one, singular horror.

I see myself doing it. I can see her struggling, but I won't let go. I am powerful. She is helpless.

"STOP IT! THAT'S ABSURD! I'D NEVER!"

"But you could. You will."

"NO! I WON'T!"

"You're losing control. Squeeze her. See what happens."

I'm dangerous. But I push the thought away. It's ridiculous! I picture her smiling, laughing. I picture myself holding her gently.

"She isn't safe."

I desperately want to put her down; I want to leave.

This is so stupid!!! NO, NO, NO!

But then there is laughter. I can almost hear it and I break her hold, put her down, unsatisfied.

"When someone can be with us," I tell her and I leave her there.

My hands are shaking as I write this. This is why people don't get it and why sometimes, I just feel depressed.