- Date posted
- 49w
My experience
A couple of months ago, I was unofficially diagnosed with OCD. It's been one of the hardest silent struggles of my life. Prior to that "diagnosis", I had been struggling with severe intrusive thoughts and religious anxiety that interfered with practically everything I tried to do. I don't even remember what brought it on, it's like a switch was flipped one day. It rapidly got worse and I did nothing about it. I was raised by a hyper-religious mother which definitely contributed/still contributes to the fears that I hold, but it was so bad to the point where I wouldn't even allow myself to be happy and partake in my hobbies anymore (simple things like writing, drawing, listening to music, watching anime) out of fear that I'd be cast into Hell. And because of how ridiculous it sounded out loud, I confined my worries strictly to internet searches, and for a very long time I never let anybody know what was going on in my head. I've struggled with picking at my own skin for as long as I can remember. Even when I was in middle school, I remember sitting in class and picking at my fingers until they were raw and started to bleed. It was something I became incredibly insecure about, and other kids would obviously take the opportunity to tease me about it. For a while, I'll be doing alright, and my hands will start to look okay, but then I'll go back to picking them without even realizing I'm doing it. On top of that, I can't touch anything without feeling incredibly grossed out afterwards. Even my own belongings make me want to rinse my hands off, not even just once but multiple times afterwards, and I've had dry hands for years because of it. My showers are around 30 minutes to an hour, which has led to some conflict in my house as of late due to a spike in the water bill. It's also because I have the habit of washing clothes excessively. I don't know how to explain the feeling of constantly being filthy, and I know it doesn't excuse the amount of water being wasted. My intrusive thoughts led me to doing ridiculous things that had absolutely no correlation to the fear, and I got rid of a lot of valuable things I held dear to me simply because I felt like I had no other choice. When I finally worked up the courage to confide in some of my friends, they encouraged me to bring it up with a professional. I expressed concerns about not just OCD but also autism due to my own concerns about the social interactions I'd have with others. I decided that I'd talk to a therapist about OCD, but before that, I brought it up to my guardian who used to work with other kids who suffered from mental health issues. Both the autism and the OCD was immediately shut down, and I was told that if I really had OCD, "The house wouldn't look the way it does." So I never brought it up to him again, and I still haven't, even though I've technically been "diagnosed" by the therapist I'm seeing. I went to my mother and she outright denied that I had it, told me to just pray it away as if I haven't already tried. I genuinely don't know what else could be wrong with me. I just feel crazy, and I'm not sure if this "diagnosis" I got is even valid. Not to imply that I don't trust my therapist, but I'm still just conflicted about this whole thing. I almost want it to be OCD badly, just for the sake of having some sort of explanation and knowing what steps to take next. But if it's not OCD, then I'll feel as lost and confused as I was before I caught onto the symptoms. I just want somebody in my life to take me seriously when I tell them these things are going on.