I like to call OCD my ugly truth. Looking back, I always had it. I didn’t become aware of it until I was probably around twenty years old. It’s funny because I don’t actually remember the exact moment in which I thought, “holy shit, I probably have OCD.” And I also don’t remember the first time I became obsessed about looking it up on the internet and taking multiple tests (sometimes I still do that). But I do remember the moment in which I finally decided to go to therapy for it. Man, that was scary. While I knew for quite a while that I had OCD, I was so afraid to hear it from my therapist. She is a professional who has training in OCD cases. So I thought, as soon as it comes out of her mouth, it will be official, and I will fall apart. And it did. And she said it. And so it was. And yes, I fell apart for a couple of days. I broke down in my car on the way home after my first therapy session. “Falling Water” by Maggie Rogers was playing. I felt like this was a song, to me from me. I thought that I was doing so well–that I could love myself with the OCD and live my life without ever asking for help. Holy shit, it was scary as hell. But I accepted it at last! I’ll probably have it for the rest of my life, but it doesn’t always have to be this bad. I think I can finally say it myself. Hi, my name is Vee and I have OCD, and I am ready to get the help I need.
Thank you for reading this.