OCD: The True Story

People can be health fanatics. Many of us strive to be as physically healthy as possible. We go to doctors on a regular basis to see if anything is wrong with us physically. However, in comparison we pay little attention to our mental health. I didn't have a choice but to pay attention to my mental condition because it controlled every aspect of my daily life. I was isolated and it seemed as though nobody in the world could understand my erratic behavior. The worst part was I knew I had a problem but there was no way to fix it. This is the true story of the worst 18 months of my life.

OCD is a life long prison sentence that you serve entirely in your head with no possiblity for parole. There was almost nothing I didn't obsess about. All my possesions had to be disinfected constantly and for no reason. If anyone was to touch anything that was mine, it had to be cleaned. There were times when I would wash my hands until they started to bleed. I was living in constant fear that God was condemning my every movement. There were certain areas of my house I had declared so filthy they couldn't be cleansed and when walking by these areas I would hold my breath so as not to breathe in the "contaminated" air.

This constant anxiety assault led to a deep depression. OCD sufferers are more likely to abuse drugs than others, and I was no exception. Vicodin became part of my regular diet. I couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror because of the drug addict I had become. If it was in pill form, I would probably swallow it before knowing what it was. This became another OCD ritual because it felt impossible to survive another day without being heavily sedated. This led to me almost constantly being sick to the stomach and at 5'11" my weight had dropped to 130lbs. Everyday I flirted with the idea of taking all my remaining vicodin and xanax and just go to sleep, never to wake again. I couldn't do this, not because of fear, but because of my personal religious beliefs and the guilt of leaving loved ones behind.

The people around me didn't make things easier. With OCD as severe as mine, I was practically exiled. I was constantly ridiculed by my own mother and my brothers and was threatened on several occasions that I would be kicked out of the house if I didn't change. These threats didn't hurt as bad as being told I was on the verge of being sent to a mental hospital. For a person with extreme anxiety problems, this was almost too much to handle.

I'm not writing this for your sympathy, I don't need it. I have since found God and changed my life completely. I'm finally sober again, no longer depressed, and continue to try to make progress with my OCD. It does disturb me however to know that others still go through this. To those people I wish only the best of luck and I want to promise you your problems can be overcome. For everyone else, before you make fun of the person who uses his sleeve to open doorknobs or compulsively flips a light switch repeatedly, think of the burdens they already go through; and adding to them makes life exponentially more difficult.