Anna’s Story
February 3rd 2015
I can’t remember a time where I wasn’t ‘worrying’, that’s what I call it, or carrying out particular rituals…they started with the fear of monsters and systematically checking the toilet was flushed and all taps were off (several times in a row) for the fear that something would emerge out of the water. A child that is scared of monsters seems perfectly ordinary but I think the ways these fears develop, spread and take over are what makes them ‘OCD fears’. I use the terms OCD thoughts and fears as separate from my own because that’s what they are and my biggest ailment, in terms of my OCD, is distinguishing what are ‘normal’ fears and what are ‘OCD’ fears.
As a child it was highlighted to me that I was different, or ‘not normal’, when one of my classmates asked me why I always washed my hands. I will never forget it. This is when I began to hide my OCD because I didn’t want to be ‘different’.
My worries really took a life of their own when was taught about heaven and hell. I was 10 years old and I remember it clearly for the images and the pain depicted in hell literally terrified me. This is when I became obsessed, obsessed being the operative word, with dying. I was terrified of death and terrified of not getting into heaven. Not only was I scared of getting hurt myself but I took it upon myself to ensure others didn’t get hurt and if they did it was my fault and I would go to hell. I became scared of my own germs and spreading these germs and this obsession became dangerous when I concluded that in order to prevent hurting others and passing on my germs and dirt I should take my own life and eliminate the thereat I posed
My mum told me that when I was much younger she witnessed me banging my head against my wardrobe door, literally trying to compel the thoughts out of my head. I also used to punch my legs or arms out of pure frustration and self-loathing. Whilst I was carrying all these fears and sense of responsibilities, when I was 15, a very close friend of mine died of cystic fibrosis. This realisation of death and ‘being gone’ both shocked and shook me further. For some reason, perhaps because I knew he was dying, I was anxious around him. Further to this his mum told my mum how much he cared for me and loved me this also scared me. As an adult I understand these fears but as a 15 year old girl I was confused and frightened.
My mum did everything in her power to help and took me to see more than one councillor but I was too ashamed to share my fears and my problems and I so longed to be ‘normal’. Somewhere along the way I became very intrinsic and self-involved. My persistent distress, caused by my growing awareness of death and not knowing how to deal with it, lead me to shut everyone out and I only was concerned with myself and what made me happy. While I was alone I was not responsible for others and needed not to answer to anyone. Needless to say I hurt many people close to me, especially those who tried to help me.
As I matured and developed my OCD thoughts and worries did also. The lowest and darkest time was a couple of years ago. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep and I literally felt sick to my stomach with fear and guilt. I felt like I didn’t deserve to have children. How would they look at me? Did I have a right to teach anyone anything? What if they inherited my fears? I wouldn’t wish them upon anyone! Fortunately for me I had a very close friend who supported me, talked to me and comforted me. He told me he loved me unconditionally no matter what. At the time that was all I needed to hear. It gave me hope that someone could know my deepest darkest fears and still not judge me like I’d imagined they would.
Finally, after settling into a new job, when I was 18, I considered where my life was headed. I had at last found some stability and began to consider the future. Part of me wished I’d finished my degree – I never even completed my first year! My OCD literally threw my life into disarray and I dropped out of university. So I did a bit of research and found I could study in my own time, in the evenings and at the weekends, and still keep my job. I actually got excited and knew I was doing something positive for myself and for my future. Now it is safe to say it was one of the most positive choices I ever made. When I was suffering with my thoughts or being compelled by routines my degree was like an anchor, keeping me focused, controlled and confident. I knew that if all else failed and my world crumbled around me like I expected it to then my degree would be there, no one or nothing could take it away from me. To be honest it felt like the only control I had in my life and it felt like the only thing I could be proud of.
Now at the age of 25 I’d like to think I have come out the other end of all the angst and stress of not being able to cope with my OCD. I’m engaged to a wonderfully patient and caring man and have an amazing career. Of course my OCD flares up from time to time but I am confident in my ability to manage it. I was blessed with a councillor a couple of years ago and I found I was finally ready to be 100% honest and trusting and she helped me to recognise the difference between, what I term, OCD thoughts and those of my own. OCD is a condition with no right or wrong answer or magical cure. It can manifest itself in many ways – to help me heal I had to learn just how it manifested in its own special way within me. Only then could I begin to help myself.
