How bad did it used to be?

 

People think OCD is about clean hands.

How bad did it used to be?

I still get very strange looks when I say that I have OCD. People usually think I wash my hands too much and check the door and oven. But it’s so much deeper than that.

I was around 23 years old and I did not know what was going on with me, but I did my best to ignore it. It worked from time to time; however, it never went away. My health condition was getting worse, both mentally and physically. 

I didn’t have a job.
No hobbies.
No classes.

I remember how badly it hit me. At one point, I couldn’t leave the apartment alone. I was living with my mother and I struggled to leave home, even with her. She pushed me to go out,, but I had to check things at home (No, it was not the oven, more likely to check the knives. They had to be all there so I could be calm). When we got outside I needed her close to me, I could not get close to other people, especially kids. I was scared that I would harm them (physically or to offend them). I was terrified I might be responsible for someone’s death or to leave a “scar” with a bad attitude. If we went shopping and my mother was not close to me I was holding on the cart and just staring at the floor. I was unable to do anything. Now that I am thinking about it if there was an emergency at that time, I would probably be too scared to move.

My mother used to say I had “empty eyes”, like I was dead, no emotions, nothing. I admire her strength to go through this and help me. But things got even worse. I was scared to stay alone at home and since my mother could not stop working, she took me to work. It was exhausting for her. I could not sleep alone, so I was sleeping in a room with her, I couldn’t sleep well, even with medication so she was awake with me. I could not eat well, because I vomited almost everything because of the intrusive thoughts.

The next phase was being at home alone but I could not touch my phone. I used to turn it off, place it in my nightstand, leaving the room (closed door), going to my mother’s room (closed door) only to be able to watch a movie. Moreover, that was a great improvement because before I could not watch TV, especially if I was alone.

Telling you all of this, please, have in mind this was in the beginning of my treatment with medication. Half year later, I was completely fine, until I stopped the pills. But now I know what’s happening to me and have the tools to manage it. 

There is hope.
Always.

If you’ve ever looked back and realized how far you’ve come:

→ Chained  

→ Slowly getting back to “normal”