My OCD stemmed from what I deemed abuse as a child, when I was about 10. The abusers was an older boy, I do not know how much older. The incident had a detrimental effect on my life, and changed a happy go lucky boy into someone who thought he was now gay or had aids. I tried to speak about this to my mother but she could not understand what I was trying to say, as I did not tell her directly about what happened, I just asked what would happen if a man had sex with another man. But I was too young to understand sex, so I could not ask the question right. My mother dismissed the question as foolish, and sent me to bed. But my OCD began to develop. I was ok when active but when alone, it hit hard. I used to play outside all the time, but then suddenly had to wash my hands all of the time. My concentration lapsed, and all I wanted to do was watch TV. My parents started to argue about me, and what could be done. They did their best for me without knowing the truth, and I was afraid to tell them. I do not understand why.

My parents sent me to everyone they could, but I was afraid to tell the doctors in case they told my parents. You will notice fear, has destroyed my life.

All the kids my age were starting to experiment with each other, kissing, hugging, etc. But I was afraid. Also my parents would have killed me if they found out I was kissing girls. But every day, I wish, I did. I feel it would have completely changed my life. I became obsessed with girls I fancied and when I did get the courage to ask them out, they said no.

I was not the smartest kid, nor was I the bravest; I was small and skinny as the oldest boy on the road, so when bullies came, I was picked on. I learnt martial arts, but leant to hate violence. I was told, my OCD was destroying my life. I wanted to kill my abuser, and I was angry all the time, and very quick to react violently. The better I got at martial arts the more I did not trust myself.

Alcohol, as helped to destroy the best years of my life. Every social event involved it, and I could never handle it. I would get drunk, end up in hospital, or a jail cell and I missed countless weekends, spent in bed recovering. I used to say to myself, I needed to rest, because my mind was so cluttered, but what I really needed was to speak out and stop drinking.

So 2 years ago, I did finally speak out, I told my mother and doctor what happened to me as a child, and with a few days my mother a traffic warden was hit by a car and injured. I blamed myself for that, and moved back home, having life away from home for 16 months. When I got back, I was determined to stay, and not move out again. I had 25 years of guilt, and felt I owed my parents so much. I have never told my dad what happened to me, as I was asked not to. I still feel guilty about that.

But what makes my most angry and most guilty is that maybe I got it wrong. True my young mind was exposed to something it should never have been exposed to, but I was not raped, just molested. Should had have caused my years of misery, or should I have been able to just drop it and let it go?

And now aged 38, with parents who are in the 60s, what do I do now. How do I continue day to day? I cannot see myself having a family of my own or being able to afford a place of my own, so what do I do? My life of misery has had a knock on effect for my entire family. I am tired. I am tired of lack of self-esteem, lack of self believe, lack of self-control. I feel like people see my as the local weirdo. I have not had a friend in years, and I feel awkward in social situations. As for laughing, that seems to be far away in a distant memory.

I think life can be wonderful and beautiful and worth living. But I keep missing my chance. When do I stop messing up, and who will help me.

I want to be able to work for a living. I recently attended to group session for people who like me suffer from OCD and from what I can tell; I am the only one working. Through all the years, I went to school, or college, and work. I did not do well in school or college, but I am not alone there and it was not my fault. But I only stopped working once for 3 months. But what kills me, is I cannot get promoted. I am in a low paid job, and no matter how hard I work, they will not promote me. I am becoming more and more disillusioned and wonder what is the point? I am not getting any younger and my job does nothing for me. I feel trapped, I feel lost, and I am afraid. I am afraid to quit my job, I am unable to ask for a transfer as I bring my sister to college each morning before I go to work. It adds nearly an hour to my morning commute, but I said I would sacrifice this year for her to give her the best possible start to college life. So even though it is frustrating, it is rewarding. But It seems that is the only reward I have in my boring frustrating life.

But maybe I have seen the light. Going to the group session, got me out of the house, and bring my sister to college gets me up early each day. I need to get up and out of the house. I like the interaction of the group, and A group of some sort is what I have craved for years, but have not had the courage to join. I hope that I can now join more groups and make friends. Right now I have no friends in Ireland apart from my family. I consider my parents to be my best friends right now, but I am sure they want me to have other friends, and eventually a relations and family of my own.

My dream is to have my own house and family. My fear is that because of my past, that it will never happen. But I do not give up. I will consider the last few years to have been resting. But I have energy and ability now, and I must use them, to improve my life. Happiness will not come to me, I must go to it.

I need help.

Added note.

The feeling of guilt, of a wasted 25 years, the feeling that what happened to me, should not have had the effect that it did have, is now a big problem. Whenever houses are mentioned I recall how close I was to buying a house and starting my own life, but then remember the breakdown and the need to be home with my parents. I feel trapped. I am in a job, that I feel I have been robbed of a chance of promotion on more than 1 occasion, and my job does nothing for me, I feel like a prisoner.

But what is hurting now, is that fact that I have not told my father the truth. Ok, he knows I have OCD, but does not know why. I do not know why, I say it was because of abuse, others say I have it and therefore only focus on the abuse. So if I was not abused, then what was the point. And how do I live with that?