So here I am taking advantage of an anonymous website because I'm super-secretive about my problems. It's not like I would ever dare to be this honest on a site like Facebook – it amazes me that I even have a Facebook account.

First off, negative thoughts in my mind right now include a sort of chastizing for even joining a site like this. Who gives a shit about my feelings? Who's going to read this? Am I really just writing for myself, and if I am, I have a stack of blank comp books in the bedroom just waiting for ink.

But I'll keep going, because maybe I can find some commonality here. Of course, people also might get pissed at me if I start actually making connections and then not going on enough.

Here's the rundown:

I'm 26 years old, work in a highly stressful journalism-related environment in front of a computer 8+ hours a day, and have a string of bad habits including fidgeting, chewing on pens, repeating myself, interrupting people and general paranoia. You ever annoy the hell out of people because you just CAN'T LET IT GO. I hear that constantly, my mother, my sisters, etc. – 'You're still thinking about that,' or 'That's still bothering you?' YES, IT IS – that's part of the problem. Of course, I can't be mean to people about it if they dont' know my problem – and why should they? Just think of the belittling that would come with it. A few important people in my life know, and my health insurance to a point, I guess since PSYCH TREATMENT shows up on their bills.

I've been OCD long before I had any idea what it was or understood psychology. I clearly remember it coming on during a family vacation to California when I was just nine years old. For some reason I HAD to go into my uncle's study and do something with his encyclopedias, pick up a stack of so many – to keep me safe. I'm sure there were probably earlier signs, but that's when I really remember it starting. It just snowballed from there. Fifth grade was hell – lying awake at night with your mind just shouting crazy things, putting you into a state of constant fear. Close that drawer or your whole family will die. You're going to grow to 11 feet tall. You're stupid, your I.Q. is dropping by the second unless you take this sock off. Most of it personal, and constant. Mom took me to the pediatrician – his response? Riddalin – the magic drug of the early '90s. That turned me into a zombie, plus I think the fear of taking that medication triggered other fears. Then we went to a pyschiatrist, and after a little while, I just started lying to him. I cheated myself out of therapy early on – I was scared, ashamed, and convinced myself I'd be alright. I remember it seeming to get slightly better in sixth grade- it still was affecting me, but I had other things going on, so I guess in some respects I was ignoring it. From then on, I would have episodes, highs and lows, and having a rough family life didn't help either. My dad is pretty neurotic and an alcoholic, so there was that to deal with. My whole family has a history of some kind of depression, and I'm pretty sure my father is OCD too.

It reared its head again loudly in college. I was in my first real relationship and the old monster was messing that up royally. Now, it manifested itself in not just the usual irrationals, but sexually, physically and in everyday activities. Some, granted probably helped me. I'm obsessed with deadlines, due dates – bills are always paid on time, my homework was usually done ahead of time – but my 'friend' is always with me.

I'm a fully mature adult and I still get fears of growing too big – it's absolutely ridiculous. Nothing can make it stop. I am constantly drained, exhausted from combating it so I can have a normal life.

Frustrated.