My story of living with OCD
My name is Daniel and I am sixteen years of age.
I have a disorder known as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
At the end of 2001, a scary and anxiety building compulsion came upon me one day as I woke up. One day I was fine, the next I wasn’t. From the morning that I woke up, I realized that something was different. Whenever I looked at a knife I felt the compulsion to use it to harm someone. Becoming scared and thinking myself to be insane I kept it quiet for the whole day until I could bear it no longer. I went to bed frightened, feeling alone and thinking that I was going insane.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone for fear of being locked away in an insane asylum, and for six months I watched my condition become worse. Whenever I looked at anything - especially knives - that could be considered a weapon I felt that compulsion to use it to harm someone else. I thought to myself that I could beat it and that it was just a thing to do with growing up and that it would go away with time. But as time went on, my condition became progressively worse and I began to have small panic attacks if I thought of actually harming someone that I loved. At night, the compulsion was at its worst as I thought I might actually harm somebody while they were asleep without my knowledge. My worst fear at the time was the fact that I would be unable to control myself if ever the condition became too bad. A week before my birthday in July I had finally had enough after a near panic attack and I approached my mother and told her everything against my better
To my surprise, my mother was really helpful at this time. She didn’t utterly ignore me or think that I was a freak and kick me out of the house but called our family doctor made an appointment.
The doctor did the best she could to comfort me in this situation but I became more gloomy as I could see the seriousness in her eyes as she called a local psychiatrist. I could barely make eye contact with her.
From the first session with the psychiatrist, I felt better. She didn’t judge me and throw me into an asylum and hurl away the key but was caring and understanding even as I broke down into tears and told her about what was troubling me.
Well it’s coming on a year now and I have seen a marked improvement with my compulsion and I take medication and go to counseling with my psychiatrist but other than that, there is very little evidence of my former self who was scared of harming my friends and family. I now have no compulsions and I have never felt better.
I would suggest to anyone in a similar situation to learn from me and to seek further help if you feel that you are not yourself.