A Product of Ten Minutes of Thinking: I want to live in a world where... I can pet my dog without checking for tiny black hairs on my fingertips afterwards I can walk around my house without forcing myself to wear shoes so I can shield my feet from the dirty carpet that other people have walked on I can go to a restaurant without worrying that a rouge hair has drifted into my water glass that may not have been washed well enough I can enjoy eating food without thinking about how greasy, messy, crumbly, it is as I lick my lips to make sure no remnants remain I can cry on the hard days without crying about the fact that I’m crying, since tears are a bodily fluid and bodily fluids are gross, no matter how natural I can be in a too-small room with a person who has just sneezed without holding my breath to avoid the possibly bad germs until my face turns purple I can go to an amusement park or a mall or a public bathroom without cringing when I have to touch a door that so many other people have touched I can look out my bedroom window at the night sky without being irrationally scared that the darkness will swallow me whole if I look for too long I can live, feel, walk, risk, enjoy, cry, heal, explore, imagine, without hurting ever again You could say that I’m lucky, because I used to be too afraid to ever pet my dog, walk into dirty rooms in my house, go to a restaurant, eat messy foods, cry, take a deep breath, explore crowded places, or look out of my window at night. But don’t you see? I’ve only learned to exist. Not to live.

This is ruining every part of my life. The carpet on my staircase is old and pretty dirty, and there's dried mud on it. There's brown bits, which I'm convinced is cat poop and there's a good chance it could be because there have been multiple times my cat has had it stuck to her after going in the litter tray. It's impossible to clean so I don't try, and my parents don't probably because they don't see it's dirty and because it's such an old worn out thing anyway. So I wear slippers everywhere except my bedroom. Only, the other day I stepped somewhere contaminated in socks and then put my slippers back on, so now they're contaminated on the inside which defeats the whole point. So now, if I want to get into bed, I have to take my slippers off outside my door, and my socks, and I have to put new socks on, but if I do that I have to wash my hands again. Which means going to the bathroom. Which means putting the slippers on. Which means I'm contaminated again. I feel so sick and I want to cry. There are so many not hygienic things in my house, and it makes living with this so much harder. I tell myself that what I'm going through are compulsions and intrusive thoughts and obsessions but how can that be true if there's a very real chance the brown on my staircase is cat poop? How can it be true when it's my own fault because I'm too lazy to clean it and I'm too lazy to try fixing the issue when there are so many things stopping me and there are so many things not hygienic about the house. I want to cry, it's too much. I can't tell myself I'm being irrational when I'm being rational. I just can't keep doing this. I want to lay in bed until I feel better but I never feel better. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow about my ocd symptoms and thoughts but what am I meant to say? My house is a state and covered in mud on the carpet, and it sends me into multiple mental breakdowns a week? A day? Surely that's not ocd but instead is perfectly rational? I can't cope with any of this anymore, I want so badly to live in hygiene and cleanliness. It doesn't matter how hard I try, I'm never clean. I will never be clean. And I keep trying to tell myself that even if it's cat poop, it's not the end of the world. But I feel so ashamed. I feel dirty. I just want all of this to stop being so difficult.

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 🧡

(Long post warning) Hi, I’ve been struggling with severe OCD for six years now. it started in 2019 with my theme being getting sick/emetophobia. it devastated my life. I almost didn’t graduate high school from it. I remember washing my hands for three hours one day until they were nearly bloody while crying and asking why I could not stop doing it. I remember id have to write and rewrite sentences when I did my English homework and that’s why I nearly failed that class. I remember how I would spend up to thirty minutes to an hour pacing the halls of my apartment while my mom was asleep until I neutralized the thoughts about throwing up and I could finally go to bed. I don’t know when it happened, but my theme switched. Sometimes in late 2020 or early 2021, it switched to POCD. It started with a single thought, and I focused on it and it’s been my theme since then for four years. It has been absolutely destroying me. I feel so disgusted and lost and just tired. My compulsions are severe now. I thought they were bad before, but now they’re ten times worse. I can’t eat, drink, change my clothes, walk, or even do things on my phone normally. I’ve developed so many mental compulsions that it’s so intricate and complicated yet at the same time I’ve done them so much that they’ve become normal. An example I have is if im putting on a shirt and I have a “bad” thought, I have to take it off and put it back on two more times (that’ll make it 3 times I put the shirt back on - odd numbers are my safe number). I have to have a good thought on the third time otherwise I have to take it off and put it on two more times to make it five times I put on that shirt. If not that then I just put on a different shirt because the original is now tainted with my bad thought. I can’t open apps on my phone. It’s with the numbers again. If I open TikTok once while having a bad thought - I have to close it and open it two more times and so on. Sometimes I do it up to 30 times. So I just don’t do things usually. I don’t turn on the TV because I know I’ll redo it. I don’t open a book or grab it off my shelf because I’ll have to repeat the action. I can’t even lay in bed without getting up and redoing it even if im exhausted. I just feel so helpless. I don’t know what to do. I feel disgusting and even now my minds screaming at me that I am dirty and what I think is true. I just wish I was free of this, I wish I could just live my life. I’ve wasted hours and days because of my compulsions. I mask it so well around my friends. I don’t do them in front of anyone or I’ve learned to hide it well. But when im back home alone, it goes haywire. I just want to live again.