Uncomfortable Morning of Driving

A reflection I never saw myself being able to write✨ One year ago today, I was spiraling for a second time because I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, again. Getting through it once was doable but twice? I truly thought I was losing my mind. OCD wasn’t just a shadow in the background — it was a loud, relentless voice narrating fear, doubt, and compulsions into every corner of my life. I couldn’t trust my thoughts, couldn’t rest in silence. I was questioning everything. I was exhausted coasting through the motions of life trying to survive every minute of every day. But today — I’m here. Still imperfect, still human, but finally free in a way I didn’t think was possible. I got here by learning the hardest, most empowering lesson of my life: I had to stop depending on anyone else to pull me out. I had to stop outsourcing my safety, my certainty, my worth. I had to become the person I could rely on — not in a cold, lonely way, but in the most solid, liberating way possible. You see, healing didn’t come when others gave me reassurance — it came when I stopped needing it. When I realized no one could fight the war in my mind for me. It had to be me. Not because others didn’t care — but because I had to be the one to stop running from fear. I had to choose courage over comfort, again and again. And boy was that rough. But I did. Through therapy, I retrained my brain. (Shout out to Casey Knight🙏🏼) I stopped dancing to OCD’s obsessive rhythm and started rewriting the song. And yeah — the beat dropped a few times. But I kept moving forward. Slowly, I started turning my mind into a place I wanted to live in. I made it beautiful. Not by forcing positive thoughts, but by planting seeds of truth: 🌱 Not every thought deserves attention. 🌱 Discomfort doesn’t mean danger. 🌱 Uncertainty is not the enemy — it’s just part of being alive. I started treating my mind like a garden instead of a battlefield. I let go of perfection and started watering what was real, what was kind, what was mine. And let’s be honest — there were still a few weeds. (Hello, OCD — always trying to “check in.” ) Because healing isn’t linear, I still have days where I feel back to square one, but it’s a day, not a week, month, or another year of surrendering. But here’s the “punny” truth: OCD tried to check me, but I checked myself — with compassion, courage, & a whole lot of practice. To anyone still caught in the spiral — I want you to know: you are not broken. You don’t need to wait for someone else to save you. No else will. The strength you’re looking for? It’s already in you. It might be buried under fear, doubt, and rumination, but it’s there — patient and unbreakable. Start small. Start scared. Just start. Because when you stop relying on the world to reassure you, and start trusting your own ability to face uncertainty, you get something even better than comfort — you get freedom, resilience, power & SO much more. You don’t have to control every thought/urge to have a beautiful mind. You just have to stop believing every thought/urge is the truth. You don’t have to be fearless , you just have to act in spite of fear. You are not crazy You are not a monster You are not evil You are human You are capable And if OCD ever tries to take over again, just smile and say, “Nice try. But not today.” — Someone who came back to life, one brave thought at a time 🧡

I’ve avoided driving majority of my teen years because I got into a head on collision when I was 17. Even before then, I was absolutely terrified of driving. Saying I was terrified is an understatement. I’d literally shake at the thought of anything to do with cars and imagine my body scrunching up with the car metal after getting into an accident. OCD would convince me that I simply cannot trust myself behind the wheel, and that something bad will happen - like I’ll kill my self, someone else, or an animal and I hated it. Needless to say, I genuinley could not bring myself to get started with driving until I was 19, which was a few months ago lol. I got my permit at 17, practiced driving a tiny bit then stopped after the accident I got into. I eventually got the permit renewed a few months ago at 19, then I finally got my license a month after. Now I’m 20, and today I drove myself 45 mins to and from work! I still need to practice more, but holy lord I never thought this day would come. All the years I’d feel embarassed/judge myself have come to an end. Just because I was delayed at doing something doesn’t mean I’m not capable. For anyone who has goals they want to reach and they feel like they’re impossible - they’re not. Fight OCD as best as you can. I hope I can be a symbol of hope for anyone whose struggling

Recently, since completing my year long therapy program and being connected with NOCD (and now in the transitionary period and waiting for the green light from insurance to work with an OCD specialist), I've been trying to convince myself to go out more and go to public places--to go shopping again, order food in-person, maybe to meet someone, get extra work, something! But...many days, basically EVERY day, my OCD bullies me into thinking my intrusive thoughts are the ONLY certain thing that WILL happen that day, even though they haven't. I worry I can't be around people, or that I pose some risk to others, and that it'd be better for the world, if I stayed in my family home. Unless I've been explicitly given a task by an immediate family (drive someone to an appointment/work/a commitment that they can't get to themselves, or the 1 part-time job I have), I'm to remain in the house, mostly my room. It's this paralyzing time-vampire, that just saps you of your will to do ANYTHING or break out of familiarity. Not even comfortable familiarity, just familiar. You know it's not good for you, and your over it, and that new better opportunities exist just outside of those doors, but so do the narratives your intrusive thoughts write. And why would you go out and risk turning an unpleasant page, when the familiar story you know all to well, and read every day has as serviceable. Not a good end, not a bad one. Just a temporary end. You revel in being able to put your head down on your pillow, at the end of the day, and close your eyes, simply because you made it through the day. You didn't accomplish much, due to satiating your obsessions with your compulsions for hours on end, but your pillow still feels so rewarding...your reward for surviving, even though you'll be deploy to that hellish battlefield in your mind again tomorrow.