I epitomized childhood anxiety. I’ve struggled with anxiety for as long as I can remember. It comes and goes as it does with anyone. In high school, I realized that my anxiety flows in patterns of specific issues. When I brought this symptom to my doctor, he diagnosed me with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
This isn’t the first time a medical professional told me that I have OCD. I just didn’t believe it before. I didn’t believe it this time either. It took me a few months to really come to terms with it.
The acceptance of this diagnosis helped me so much. I truly started to understand what goes on in my head. I could accept help from others in a way that I couldn’t before because I didn’t think that certain methods could help me.
I also learned how incorrect people are when they use “OCD” in everyday conversation. I knew before, but it’s become even more obvious to me. OCD is the same as any other mental illness. It is characterized by obsessive and compulsive behavior (not one or the other). The definition of a mental illness is that it is something noticeable on a daily basis. OCD isn’t wanting things in a proper order or making your bed every day. OCD is not being able to go to sleep until the pill bottle on your bedside table is facing the right direction or locking the door three times because the first two tries weren’t right.
The sentence, “I’m so OCD,” is incorrect on the topic of grammar alone. That’s saying, “I’m so Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.” That makes no sense. If you have OCD, say that. If you’re picky, say that.
My boyfriend and I started talking when I realized that my diagnosis is something that I need to address. It was one of the first conversations we had because it was on my mind. He was endlessly kind about it, but I have had to explain myself more than once. I do a lot of things that I can’t explain logically. I can spend months at a time obsessed with an issue and then move on from it all of a sudden.
I know that my relationships have struggled because of my negligence for my own mental health. That’s why I’m excited about getting help. I’m ready to be able to let people in and know me the way I’ve always wanted.
I’m a very open book, and that’s because I’ve always been so confident. It’s hard to be confident when struggling with something like this. I think I have a hard time telling people about my OCD because the idea of OCD is often cute and silly superstitions, not paranoia and panic attacks.
Removing the stigma from mental illness is a tall order, but I know it’s possible. The quickest route is listening and discussing mental illness without any judgement.