I have felt inspired to share my story about OCD, in part because I have finally realised how much it helps me to share and listen to others’ stories (while trying to fight the guilty feelings which surge up when my OCD tells me that I should not be using my problem and others’ to gain relief, but instead I should be looking out for others’ safety and well-being). So hopefully my story might resonate with someone out there, whilst getting it out in the open will be cathartic for me!
I am 51 years old and have struggled with OCD since age 13 (though I now see I showed signs of it way before). I remember the exact moment when I first had extreme anxiety: at that time, my Mum was the most important person in my life and she had suffered from poor health and had been in and out of hospital quite a lot while I grew up. Anyway, this particular time, my Mum had just got out of hospital following an operation. I overheard a conversation which basically said how lucky my Mum had been and if she’d waited much more she’d be dead. My world fell apart and the first thought that crashed through my head was: “How could I have been so selfish as to be having such a good time at school and all this was going on?!! I am one bad person.” The compulsions began immediately. I began to draw imaginary circles around my waist with my hands and my index fingers of both hands had to touch. I would hold great store in numbers, and odd and even steps. I would never step on the cracks in the pavement and I began to touch objects once, twice, three times, four times…. And I would say to myself: “Ok, one more time”, but it never was one more time – it was never enough.