OCD is one of the most fierce, persistent, cunning enemies a person can have. I have spent years trying to take it down and every time I get close, it morphs itself into something new, something I don’t know how to fight. Like the hydra that grows two more heads after one is chopped off, OCD has a way of changing, making sure you never know exactly how to handle it.
For years I worried about my intrusive thoughts. It was horrible, unbearable agony to have my own mind turn against me. I didn’t understand why these thoughts would appear and the images my mind produced were horrible. I would imagine bizarre, disgusting sexual scenarios, worry about becoming violent and hurting children. For years I suffered alone, not knowing how to help myself. I would seek reassurance from my friends and family who grew tired of listening to my worries.
Now that I am older I know OCD for what it is and the bizarre, intense thoughts have subsided. I no longer worry about what I might do, as it has taken me years to accept that it is OCD and not me. Then, seeing that I was conquering it, my OCD decided a new approach, one that was more painful, one I could not fight. It decided to bombard my mind with every bad thing I had ever done, all of my most horrible, shameful secrets, and pour them down on me at once. Suddenly that shameful secret from 10 years ago has come raining down on me as painful as if it happened yesterday. My mind has not been able to cope with my OCD and I have broken down crying for no other reason than I just don’t see how I can carry on. As soon as I think I understand my enemy, it devises a new plan of attack, one I am not ready for.
Worrying about things you have already done is somehow so much worse than worrying about the potential future. It is your OCD drudging up all the shame, guilt and agony of the past and forcing you to wear it around your neck. I think of all my wrong doings in the past and know that this is not OCD, this is a real thing I have done and I must live with. And with the guilt and shame come hatred. So much hatred for my mental illness and for myself, for my brain which seems determined to take me down like a self destructive machine. It’s on days like this when my OCD wins and I wonder if I can ever defeat this monster.