I spent most of high school struggling with the idea that my grades were not linked to my worth. Years of constant stress and horror stories had convinced me that anything less that perfect would result in me ending up homeless, alone, and ultimately, dead. It wasn’t until I found myself sitting in my therapist’s office that I realized perhaps that kind of fear-induced thinking was not normal.
My high-achieving mentality was driven by constant obsession. I had to succeed in everything I did, had to commit to everything I touched, and had to make sure I never admitted defeat. By my junior year, I was a complete mess. I was either sleeping too much or too little, never eating, refusing to go out with friends, and dreading the idea of participating in activities I once enjoyed.
This mindset was based around the fear that I would somehow fail at these tasks and bring upon myself never-ending embarrassment. It was when I broke down sobbing in my mother’s car that she decided that I needed help. I started seeing my therapists twice a week for about four months before the diagnoses came.
By my diagnosis, I had become slightly more whole. I was still stressed, but I finally knew what the cause of the constant thoughts of destitution and despair was. It turns out OCD had been a part of my entire life, specifically my childhood. I spent countless hour counting my footsteps, ensuring that either foot shared an equal number of steps within a side walk square. My breakdowns over lumps in my ponytails and constant fear of saying the wrong thing were suddenly explained. I felt almost freed, but I knew it would take more than knowing this, to get a handle on my situation.
It’s been nearly five years since I started taking medication to aid in combatting my OCD. Sertraline had been extremely helpful for most of this time, but as my body became used to it, I began taking other prescriptions in the hopes they would have the same effects. It took about a year, but I have once again discovered the right medical concoction to aid me in my final year of college.
Medication is not the be-all-end-all. I still struggle with obsessive thoughts centering around my grades and friends. I still catch myself counting my steps. I might even shed a tear over my hair on bad days. Yet, I no longer feel as if I constantly have to succeed. I can allow myself to be bad at things, to fail, and feel safe with the knowledge that this is all okay. With steady sessions of therapy and a lot of self reflection, I find myself feeling better and better, with even my lows slowly shifting upwards.