This is my story.

I feel like I'm up against an insurmountable mountain. I'm not new to OCD; I know I've had symptoms since at least the age of 8 (probably earlier to be honest, I just know things really took off when I was 8). I dealt with things with no outside help until I was 17, at which point I began seeing a therapist and began to take celexa. I stuck with that therapist for a couple more years before going about my life, though I continued to take the the celexa. Fast forward to 2018, age 29 - I once again began to see a therapist and had my meds adjusted once more, this time switching to Luvox. I also wound up switching therapists after a year or so, though not by choice - my therapist had a personal crisis come up that necessitated the switch. I still see the same therapist I switched to in 2019. Early 2020 brought with it a couple more med changes, going off the Luvox and onto Cymbalta and Intuniv due to concerns about previously undiagnosed ADHD. This was how things were for five years. I'm not going to say things were perfect- there were undoubtedly bumps in the road - but things felt doable, and I mostly found enjoyment in life. This came to a screeching halt recently. Again, as I said, there were bumps in the road. At first, I thought this was all that this was. When I spoke to my psychiatrist in early February, I started Ativan as I just wanted something to take the edge off a little bit. I also went off of Intuniv as we thought that might be contributing to things. It was Saturday, February 8th when things really started to go off the rails. My boyfriend and I were going on a short trip across the state. An intrusive thought popped up - What if I sleepwalked at the hotel and hurt or even killed my boyfriend? This fear stuck with me through the entire trip. I heaved a sigh of relief as we drove back. I'd soon be safe back at home and I'd put it all behind me. If only. On the ride home, my worries shifted to concerns that I would sleepwalk and do something to my parents, who I live with. I fretted for the majority of the trip back, already making up plans to research the subject and how unlikely it would be that something like that would happen, and I'd tell my parents for good measure. They, of course, assured me that I'd never sleepwalked in the past so it was unlikely I'd do so now. I should also note that this is not a new fear of mine, but one I experienced as early as elementary school, though it had essentially disappeared up until this point, decades later. If only it stopped there. I stopped taking the Ativan Sunday evening in the middle of the trip, my thought being that the Ativan might have contributed to this. My boyfriend, in fact, had a reaction years ago where Klonopin actually sent him into a panic, so it seemed possible that I might be experiencing some sort of paradoxical reaction. I also remained off of the Intuniv. Monday was the day I began experiencing loss of appetite. Monday was also the day when things really began to take off and my life began to truly feel like a waking nightmare. Another horrific image from my past reared it's ugly head - an image of my grabbing a knife from the kitchen and stabbing my mom. An image that has continued to haunt me since - and now its 2 weeks later. There's still a bit more to the story - The day after this began, I went to a local urgent care. I was now not only experiencing these horrible thoughts, but I could barely eat lunch, and my stomach was hurting. I also told my parents the latest turn in how things were going. From the urgent care, I was given a prescription for Omeprazole and Hydroxyzine. The following day, I went to my ordinary doctor's office, where the doctor suspected my increase in anxiety and the associated intrusive thoughts had to do with going off of the Intuniv I'd been taking for five years without tapering, and advised me to immediately resume the Intuniv. He also endorsed continuing the Hydroxyzine, which I was taking at night before bed at this point. I'd hoped that going back on the Intuniv would 'even things out' and I'd be back to normal in no time. The thoughts continued, unfortunately. I had an appointment with my therapist as well as my psychiatrist, who upped my dosage of Intuniv to 3mg instead of 2mg and advised on other medication options should this not help. Though I would like to see both of them more, it's difficult with my work schedule and their busy schedules to find time. As of right now, I'm seeing my therapist once every two weeks. My next appointment with her is this Wednesday. I've also made follow up appointments with my regular doctor's office. Last Wednesday (2/19), I had an appointment with an NP who advised I take the Hydroxyzine three times a day rather than just at bed time, so I've been doing that. I thought it might be helping the first time I took it in the afternoon, though this doesn't seem to be the case with subsequent dosages, unfortunately. I also see her again on Wednesday. I apologize for the long post, but I wanted to share how I got to this point. Things aren't great. I'm trying to enjoy life where I can - I recently played board games with my parents yesterday and went to a restaurant with my boyfriend the day before and felt almost normal, but even in those instances it felt like there was something lurking just beneath the surface. I'm going through life, but it feels like I'm barely surviving. I'm going to work but only because I think I'd be worse at home with absolutely no distractions. I wish there was a switch I could flip and things would be back to normal, where I didn't feel this way. In fact, more often that not, I want to be laying in bed asleep, because you can't think when you're asleep, and it feels like the only refuge at this point. It's hard because home was always my safe place, and my mom one of my safe people - and now this. Anyway, if you made it through this long post, thanks for reading. <3

TW!!! I was born with dr*gs in my system as an illegitimate child; alone, tired, sick, rashy, dirty, and unloved. This became the first nearly 4 years of my life. I had no fear of strangers and believed that the pain I felt was just "normal." I did not know how to be bathed, go to the bathroom, or get dressed. All I knew was the dark, the itchiness, and the pain. I was brought to my parents' house on Feburary 18th, 2011, along with my brother who suffered from horribly deadly bronchitis and pneumonia at 4 months old, also dirty. Growing up with my new- no, my true family- I learned what love was. I learned what a smile, a hug, a goodnight story was. I learned that you celebrate birthdays and there's a thing called Christmas where you get presents for behaving well. I learned that life was more than suffering. Then, I never grew up. Some days I was mature, while other days I would act younger and was scrutinized by my peers. I couldn't understand for the life of me, why I seemed so different. I was 6 when I realized that I wasn't like everyone else. I realized that talking out of turn or getting super excited because I saw a catepillar or being bubbly and humorous was almost unacceptable. "Grow up," "why do you act like this?" "What is wrong with you??" The nightmares started too. I'd be in an alleyway or in my bed and someone would put a g*n to my head, make me do whatever they wanted. I don't remember any SA before this, but my biomom did have many guys over when I was little. I learned to eventually LIKE those dreams. I wasn't scared anymore, I just learned that I had to s*duce them in order to k*ll them so that I don't d*e. To this day, I still have them. I became angry at myself for not hitting that "normal," no matter how hard I tried. I was scared of being abandoned again. Scared of being alone. Tired of not feeling enough. I would snap any time I felt like I disappointed someone or someone tried to put me down. I would threaten whoever tried to bully me that I would st*b them. And I did with a sharpened pencil or a mechanical pencil because I was just so TIRED of feeling like I wasn't enough. This started 3rd grade and ended in 6th. The insults grew from just "Why can't you be normal?" "What is wrong with you??" to "You're a psychopath." "Crazy b*tch!!" When I'm angry, I laugh hysterically. I started not to care in the slightest, and embraced their insults, although, this lasted only about a month. 7th grade happened, and puberty hit, causing my BPD to really develop and spiraled into panic attacks and severe depression. I started to have SI, which was only fueled by the s*icide of a classmate. 8th grade was covid, and I was better because no one was calling me names or challenging me, but people now feared me. It felt good to have that control: I wasn't being hurt anymore. After 8th grade, a lot of my friends didn't want anything to do with me. In 9th grade I was manipulated and SAed by people I thought were my friends. But I didn't want to be alone again, so I listened to them and no one else, not even my parents. I was so under their control, if they told me to jump off a bridge because I could fly, I wouldn't hesitate. In tenth grade, I went to my current school and wasn't bothered with, but the damage was done. I felt vulnerable, lonely, scared, and just exhausted. In the summer of that year, I bought a burner phone and flirted with men up to 35 years older than me for the attention. I just wanted someone to like me, maybe even love me. I became obsessed and when the WiFi was disconnected from it, I flipped out. I ran away for almost 24hours before the cops found me. I was then sent to a residential in Oklahoma (that was literal hell) and was threatened and ab*sed there. I came home nearly 2 years ago and I'm still struggling from the trauma. Now, I have a fiance and my family, but that's it. I have a ton of medical and mental issues that hurt me daily. Everyday is hard, but I finally want to live. I want to love. I want to be free.

So I know I've talked about my fear of being hacked/watched without my knowledge and at the same time that same fear has also made me scared that i've said incriminating things or confessed to a crime I didn't commit out loud without realizing and that this person (who probably doesn't even exist) is going to use it against me in the future and ruin my life. To the point where I've covered all my device cameras. Yeah, I know. Incredibly outlandish. Anyways. The past few months it's just been my brain convincing me that my life is over or that it's going to end and not just end, but like I'm going to lose everyone that I love because of said "incriminating things" though I know I haven't done anything wrong. Of course, there's a part of me that realises that this is really unlikely because I'm not that important of a person for someone to lie in wait for decades and decide to ruin my life just because though I don't doubt that there are people like that out there (i really hope they're few and far between). However, there's another part of me that also really believes that this is all true. And sometimes I wonder if I'm going insane. Coupled with what I believe are false memories, the anxiety has been taxing every day. And I find it hard to sit with uncertainty because this worst case scenario terrifies me. I'm scared of being unloved and abandoned and also deathly afraid of being perceived as a bad person. And of course, also scared of being a bad person and my brain is convinced that I must be. Anyways. Who knows. Maybe. Maybe not. I wanted to share because I know that OCD or I guess any kind of mental illness (whatever it is I'm suffering from if it isn't OCD) likes to convince us that our fears are too niche and that this worry wouldn't be present if it wasn't real. OCD likes to use that as proof. I've learnt though that there are many people like me on this app, and even though it's still scary, it makes me feel less alone. It can be very tiring and honestly sometimes I ask myself how I'm still here even though it's been a few months and some people on here have experienced episodes like this for years or even decades. I keep hoping I'll wake up one day and it will be like this never happened. If you've taken the time to read this incredibly long waffle session of mine that's more like a drawn-pit diary entry, thank you. And if you feel comfortable with sharing, please do :)