Many books have allowed me to escape myself, but so far only one has taught me something about myself. I’d like to believe this novel found me at the perfect time in my life—when my mind had become its own entity and began tormenting me at every waking moment. If it were not for the written remedy that is “Turtles All the Way Down” by John Green, I would still be grasping to understand my mind.
The strange thing about obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is how it makes a person doubt their own humanity and creates the illusion that, at any moment, they can descend into madness. My OCD started manifesting as intrusive thoughts that gradually interfered with my daily routine and were nothing but unforgiving, persistent, and loud. I felt I was no longer worthy of calling myself gentle and kind, not when my mind was spiralling with obscene scenarios as I walked among others in silent disguise. I carried these thoughts in the same way you would carry a secret, with too much shame and guilt. Oblivious to what was truly going on, I convinced myself that these thoughts were my own and therefore a reflection of what I was: vile.
One chilly October afternoon, some days after I had turned 17, I took off to Barnes and Noble to buy new books with the cash my parents had given me. I browsed through my favorite aisles and carefully considered my options. This was serious business! Among all the other books, there stood “Turtles All the Way Down,” with its brushstroke-style font and warm orange spiral running down the center. I had never felt the need to read a book as much as I did with this one. Stories have a unique way of finding us when we most need them—when our experiences already exist somewhere else, and it isn’t until we read them that we learn we are not alone.
I first met Aza, the protagonist of Green’s novel, the following March, when I finally decided to crack the book open and get to work. Only a few chapters in, and I was already resonating deeply with this character. Aza’s thoughts arise at an alarming rate and at unexpected times. They deprive her of being present and a dependable person in her relationships. Aza makes her fear abundantly clear—that her body and mind have become a kind of imprisonment, and she’ll never come to know peace. Whatever good things life has in store for others, they will not be granted to her because the stagnant nature of her disorder forbids it.
I’ve never doubted the impact books can have on you, but I didn’t expect this novel to address my struggle as clearly as it did—it was enlightening when several passages felt like they were speaking directly to me. I had reason to believe I had obsessive-compulsive disorder, and when I built up the courage to ask for a professional psychiatric evaluation, I received my diagnosis. I was able to receive proper treatment and learned how to manage my symptoms, making my experience living with this disorder less tormenting.
Overall, reading “Turtles All the Way Down” by John Green was like finding a way back to myself after being trapped inside a spiral. I realized that my thoughts are not a reflection of who I am, but a testament to my strength, because when intrusive images enter my mind, I remind myself of what I am: gentle and kind. And once in a while, when I’m deep in my struggle, I am reminded of these lines from Green’s novel:
“Your now is not your forever.”