At nineteen, my psychiatrist diagnosed with OCD.
My entire life has been plagued by obsessions, compulsions, and anxiety.
My mother recalls me in the bathroom washing my hands every time she had to pick me up from Pre-K.
In third grade, I thought I was going to hell because I had thoughts that I liked the devil or that I was going to hell. It horrified me and I tried to massage my temples to get the thoughts to go away. The thoughts stopped for awhile from fifth grade to eighth grade.
Then I entered high school and my first serious relationship. After the relationship ended, my obsessions went on high gear again and I had a fear of farting. It’s absurd and hilarious to think about, but it was hell for me. I told my mother to buy me medicine that would prevent me from farting because I was so nervous about it happening in public areas. Unfortunately, the medication did not help and instead increased my gassing. Eventually, I ended up going to therapy during my sophomore year of high school and my obsessions stopped once again.
My anxiety picked up speed again during college. It often happened during or at the dissolution of romantic relationships. I wasn’t stable mentally, hence I ended up attracting unstable mates. One relationship ended so badly I ended up hospitalized for anxiety and stress-related issues. As a result, I attended group therapy and individual therapy to deal with the effects of the relationship.
Right now, I feel stable and healthy. I still have OCD and compulsively check my garage and doors to make sure they are closed before I leave for work. I’ve learned to accept my mental illness and learned how to work around it. I wish I didn’t have it sometimes, but everyone has their own cross to carry.
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