OCD: If I could, then you sure can

I've always been a happy kid, into myself but happy. As I grew up, I realized how weird it is to be different from others and how hard it is to fit in a group of "normal" people. I always had this desperate need to do things the correct way. I always wanted to switch the light off before leaving the room and then making sure I did switch it off. These things never bothered me because I grew up with the habit, but my family, friends and educators of international school in Delhi were bothered. They never said it to my face, but I could make it from their faces. So, I was diagnosed with OCD which is short for obsessive-compulsive disorder. In bookish language, it means having excessive thoughts that lead to repetitive behaviors, but we're not here to discuss the bookish language, are we? Hold on, I'm here to tell you my story, and trust me you'll like it.

Disorder, sounds scary right? It did to me too, but it won't from now on. The bare minimum things, which go unnoticed, are the usual triggers like counting, tapping your feet, spending a lot of time doing your dishes or cleaning your clothes, or arranging things "just so." Things we do to hide from our anxiety, so it wouldn't catch up on us are some things that can trigger OCD. If triggered, the feeling is like that of a panic attack or an anxiety attack, and trust me, I've had my fair share of them, and if you're reading this and you suffer from it, then I'm sure you've had to. What do I feel when I have the "attack?" Well, impulsivity kicks in, and I just feel like I want to do something, anything to keep my mind off of things, like an agitated behavior where I want to destroy things. The root cause for it is fear, and I did not know that until I was told so by my doctor. I was told these are things I resort to when I'm afraid, and I laughed until I noticed this is what it is, the fear, which crawls upon me in the middle of the night, leading to an anxiety attack.

It had been a long time, and I wanted to do something. After all, I could not be one of those who let their disability get the best of me because I did want to be involved in all the stupid family things my parents threw(just an example). So, I decided it was enough, and I finally mustered the guts to go see a therapist. It is not easy as it sounds because I ran away after my first session and never went back because I had a fear of opening up, the fear that the therapist would know things about me and hurt me somehow. My anxiety got the best of me, yet again. I started taking antidepressants, loads and loads of them because I had depression, but I couldn't go and talk to someone about it, so I filled myself with all the medications I could get my hands on – sleeping pills, anti-anxiety pills, antidepressants, and whatnot. This continued for a better part of my life. I was all alone, sitting in my room with no human contact whatsoever. I entered a vicious cycle, getting out of which was very hard. After a few months, I decided to take hold of my life, I had to go away to college, and that's when I decided if not now, then it may very well be never, so I walked up to my therapist's door and sat down. I did not say anything for almost an hour, just sat there wondering why I did what I did. It's been eight years now. I still see my therapist occasionally. To be honest, the talking worked for me more than the medications. I joined support groups too back in college, and they helped a lot too. What I thought was a disability was nothing, just my mind playing games with me, scaring me into doing things I never would've done had it not been for my mind. It took a lot of time, patience, help, emphasis on the word "help" because had it not been for the people in my life, I never would've felt the way I feel now.  

After all that I went through, looking back on my life, I feel I would've been happier if I had never given in, if I had never let fear take over me in the first place but better late than never, right? I am grown now, I have a job which I love, I have people near me who love me, I take my daily dose of medication, and it's like I never had the "disorder" which ate my life. I am very happy with where I am today. I help people out, I volunteer, and that makes me very happy. I finally realized there is no such thing as being stuck with a disease for life, it's just the fear that you need to get over. The disease will go away itself. If you're suffering from OCD and you feel like you don't have anyone to talk to, then remember I'm always here, or better yet, your parents, they're always there. You don't have to go through this alone, and I promise you, you'll get through this because I did, and if I can, then what's stopping you?