“How the Pestering Voice of OCD Helped Me Find My Own” by Anonymous Teen
Their volume grew with every attempt to reason. Every desperate “but” was torn down by an even more convincing “what if” from my opponent. My opponent wasn’t playing fair, making up evidence, and even worse, had the favor of the judge. I had spent countless hours constantly evaluating thoughts, feelings, and memories, building a well established argument for the case, but it was never enough. Harper Lee was absolutely right. “Every lawyer gets at least one case in his lifetime that affects him personally.” And for me, every case affected me personally because my unbeatable opponent was none other than myself.
The fear inducing, intrusive voice of OCD first whispered in my ear in middle school. It woke me up in the middle of the night foretelling what I thought was a warning of impending doom, and a dark future. This launched me into a whirlwind of desperate attempts to rid myself of the accompanying anxiety. For two weeks straight, I obsessively performed what I didn’t realize were compulsions. Most were different forms of avoidance. Avoiding food, people, and at my worst, even my own room. This was detrimental to my relationships and the hardest part was being unable to explain why I was doing these things because I didn't quite understand myself.
One thing I’ll give OCD is that it does a pretty fantastic job of convincing you that the best way to live is in fear and I was a pretty vulnerable target. I truly believed that this ego dystonic voice was revealing my truest and deepest nature and that everything I did was a mistake. My room soon became “contaminated” with these negative thoughts, and I reluctantly obeyed the demand to abandon my room in order to not provoke more from entering my mind. Two weeks later, the agitating, grating, voice mysteriously vanished, and I was freer than I’d ever felt. No longer did I wake up nauseous, trembling, with a racing mind. I could do what I wanted without annoying opposition. Then two months later, it attacked me again, bringing me down with fear. And so the cycle repeated for five more years.
In the back of my mind, I knew something was wrong, and my family was suspicious too. I had lost weight from avoiding food, sleep to avoid nightmares about my anxieties, and what felt like my sanity from a restless mind. And then just recently, I was caught. What was once a whisper became a roar and no longer could I fight internally. My sister found me hiding in the living room, speaking above the voice only I could hear. As the thoughts intensified, my own voice grew into a yell just to be able to hear myself. It was at that moment that I realized two things. One, this was not normal and it was definitely time to get some help and figure this out, and two, no matter what these intrusive thoughts tried to tell me, I have the strength within me to fight back and overcome them!
Through a waterfall of tears, I later opened up to my parents and described to them the past years of anxiety, fear, and shame. Despite the urge to keep it in and minimize the issue, I took the leap and released it all. I’m so thankful for their support and understanding, talking me through my thought patterns for hours at a time, comforting me when everything seemed to trigger a wave of guilt, and the next month deciding it was best for me to speak to a psychologist.
As I shared my story at the first appointment, I realized that it actually became less intimidating of a task. My psychologist was unfazed by the intensity of the subjects I poured out in my fearful ramblings, and at the end of our first appointment, the words “you have OCD” came out of her mouth. My initial reaction to the diagnosis was denial. My secondary reaction was curiosity. Could these coping mechanisms really help? A mental disorder is a pretty serious thing. And to think that my years of trouble could be summed up by just three letters was just astounding. But it's this same concept that has been so liberating in my journey of navigating the diagnosis.
Now when I find myself locking my car seven times, or ruminating on the same thoughts over and over in my mental courtroom, I’m able to stand strong because I realize that I am not my thoughts, and my thoughts do not define who I am. I am extremely thankful for everyone who has guided me along the way, providing me support, and the help that I’ve needed because without them, I would not be making the progress I am making now. And strangely enough, I find that I’m thankful for OCD because despite its bothersome voice, I’ve found my own, and now I can share my story with others, and encourage them to overcome their personal challenges and remain strong when victory seems impossible.