Can you imagine going 17 years through life, not knowing why you struggle with your struggles with certain things that others don’t struggle with?
The term “OCD” was loosely thrown around at me in counseling during college, as a potential cause of what I was miserably enduring for many years. Other terms that I heard growing up to describe my challenges were, “learning disorder”, “anxiety”, “depression”, “eating disorder”, “gay”, “too picky”, “overwhelming”, “too critical”, and others I’m sure.
Can you imagine being told these things, while knowing in your heart something just wasn’t right?
I knew I didn’t have a learning disorder. I was a fantastic student and graduated from nursing school with great grades!
I knew I didn’t have chronic anxiety or depression. At my core I was passionate, productive, social and full of joy.
I knew I didn’t have an eating disorder. I loved food, enjoyed being healthy, and wasn’t trying to lose weight.
I knew I wasn’t gay. But I couldn’t understand my irrational fears, obsessive and intrusive thoughts, or my obsession over fear of the body when thinking about intimacy.
I knew I wasn’t intentionally being stubborn or picky about the things I was afraid of or uncomfortable with like textures, colors, patterns, or sounds.
I knew that I was overwhelming, but I didn’t want to be.
I knew that I was over critical, but I didn’t enjoy it nor did I want to be.
17 years is a LONG time to wrestle with these challenges. 17 years is a LONG time to feel so misunderstood. 17 years is a LONG time to not have an explanation for what you are struggling with. 17 years is a LONG time to feel isolated.
My opinion, is that this gap–the time it takes a person to be properly diagnosed and treated for OCD–is one of the greatest causes of suicide rates within the OCD community. As mentioned before, we are 10 times more likely to commit suicide than those who do not suffer from this disorder. When was the turning point in my own journey? The moment I learned that my struggles had a name, an explanation, and a treatment plan! That moment was the moment suicide stopped being a continual thought, and HOPE began to fuel every day.
I am still on my healing journey. And honestly, I probably always will be this side of heaven. But I believe that the more I (we) communicate openly about these things, raise awareness, and shorten this gap in the OCD community, the more momentum, power, and HOPE will be injected into our community.
Help me spread this message by following and sharing my social media platforms.
Obsessive. Compulsive. Disordered. 