Let me be clear: I believe that OCD will probably always be a part of my life here on earth, but it will not be a part of my life in heaven.
OCD has been a part of my life for almost as long as I can remember.
As a kid, I was terrified of a burglar breaking in to our house or of a person close to me hurting me in some horrible way. Both of these fears (as with most OCD obsessions) had absolutely zero ground to stand on.
My first bout of depression happened when I was 10 years old. I remember thinking that I didn’t like myself much at all. My mom, who has been a huge support to me through my journey, noticed that I was down and asked if I wanted to make sure that I was a Christian. I did, and even though I’d said the sinner’s prayer as a preschooler, this was a significant part of my journey as a Christ-follower.
Compulsive checking became a major problem in middle school. I was obsessed with the thought that maybe someone was hiding in my closet or under my bed. Or maybe there was a bomb behind the bedroom door and it was up to me to make sure that everyone was safe. What if I turned the light switch off with wet hands and that started an electrical fire? Or maybe I’d sinned and hadn’t asked God for forgiveness.