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I worked hard every single day

My OCD started when I was a four year old child. For some reason,whenever I touched something, a door handle, a light switch, I had to lick my hands to ‘clean them’. Strange, as now I know it was doing the opposite than cleaning them, but for some reason I had to do it, or I’d be left feeling cripplingly anxiety for the rest of the day. From there, everything turned into a compulsion. By seven, I spent hours repeating phrases to everything I looked at in a room, I checked my bedroom door dozens of times a night to check it was closed until it felt ‘just right’.

As much as this was distressing, it wasn’t half as bad as what was to come. At nine years old, I developed a form of OCD called ‘pure O’ , a type that has no visible compulsions, which eventually sent me into a breakdown when I was thirteen. Pure OCD made me question everything I did. If I moved my hand a certian way, it had meant I’d sworn at someone, if I’d had a dream where I’d said something mean about someone else, if I said something mean about someone else, OCD would grasp onto this and morph it until the only way to get rid of the thought was to tell someone exactly what had happened.

I was misdiagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder at first, so by the time I was twelve, I was completley consumed by OCD. It made me believe I was a dangerous criminal. I was certain I was a dangerous criminal. I could go into details about these thoughts but you’d be reading this for hours. By thirteen, the intrusive thoughts got so bad, I attempted on my life. I spent the next year in a cycle of self destruction and self hatred. I was utterly consumed by my OCD. It controlled everything I did,or didn’t do. I was trapped. I spent a year in cognitive behavioural therapy, but I was so ill that I couldn’t properly engage. I started to get nightmares. I was put on medication which reduced my anxiety a little but didn’t make that much of a difference. I tried to hand myself into the police multiple times. By fourteen, I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital for treatment.

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So much better than I was

I am so much better than I was in January of last year.

In August of my 8th grade year, my health teacher showed a video about OCD in class. Little did I know, in about 4 months, that would be me.

It was my reality. I never dreamed about having OCD. I never asked for OCD for Christmas. I never expected this sweet little nightmare.

In January of my 8th grade year, I started performing rituals at night to make sure I didn’t hear any unexpected Noise at night. It caused me great distress. On January 30, 2015 I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder.

2 weeks later, on February 15, 2015, I was hospitalized for extreme insomnia and severe depression. What I really needed was compassionate care. What I got was abuse and neglect. I had no privacy, no way to sustain my ritual, and worst of all, no care at all from staff. My best friends in the hospital were fellow patients. I was discharged February 18. The next day, I saw my therapist for the first time. She was amazing and she would soon become my best friend.
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