My Story.

Hello, I’m A. 19/m I’ve experienced many OCD symptoms through the years, some of the earliest memories being from when I was 6. Over time, those symptoms and actions pertaining to them have only gotten worse as the years went by. I’ve struggled with these thoughts and actions for over half my life and it’s getting harder to keep living. I am Filipino and live on an island in the Marianas. I’ve asked to go to therapy twice, once in senior year of high school which is when my OCD started to become unbearable, and again a year after graduating. The first time, I was denied by my mother. Coming from a Filipino background mental health and getting treatment for it was seen as a matter that can be resolved with praying instead of medical treatment. My mother told me to just pray and things will get better. My mother struggles with generalized anxiety, so she can understand to a degree how I was feeling, however, her coping mechanism is just something that wouldn’t work for me. While I understand where she comes from, I was angry. This toxic mentality of “praying it away” is something that has affected people in many walks of life. The second instance was after experiencing a very intense flare up, in which both my parents told me that, “I was just bored” and “it’s okay to be a clean person,” in which I replied in anger with tears in my eyes, “you guys don’t understand.” They understood my feelings and were nothing but sympathetic and shortly after calming down, I called to book an appointment. I was going to therapy. I hadn’t opened up to anyone about my triggers before going to therapy as my triggers pertain to bodily fluids, which is on the more taboo side, which I feel very guilty and ashamed of. I worked with a general therapist/social worker who was very kind, but hadn’t worked with someone whose triggers were like mine. To my knowledge she wasn’t an OCD specialist, but acknowledged that I had harbored extreme symptoms of OCD, anxiety, and depression. It was nice to be able to talk to someone about my mental state and I felt safe in that clinic. I struggled with leaving my house due to how strong these waves of thoughts and emotions came down on me in fact, months prior, I had a job that I decently enjoyed, but due to the frequency of thoughts and emotions I had, I began questioning my performance. I didn’t want to get fired, so I left that job very suddenly. Therapy was a safe place I could go to and a reason to leave my house at least once a week which was a goal I had set with my therapist. It had only been about a month until I had to stop going to therapy. To put it simply, I couldn’t afford it anymore. My therapist told me she’d keep in touch as she is also a social worker. I haven’t heard from her since. I lost the only help I was getting. I wanted to start therapy because of the time I was losing and how much of my life had been taken over by my OCD. The amount of time I’ve spent tending to my compulsions, the amount of sleep I’ve lost, the amount of time I could’ve spent studying for a major I’m genuinely passionate about, the amount of time I’ve lost that I could’ve spent with my friends and family all lost because I’ve locked myself away in my room. The hobbies I used to enjoy doing are now on a to do list that I can’t bring myself to do, as if they were a list of chores. I’ve lost my life to OCD. Things have only gotten so much worse since I’ve had to stop going to therapy. The lack of sources where I live doesn’t make anything easier. I’m lost with no where to go.