I started having problems with OCD when I was just ten year-old kid, and the progression of the disease was fast and furious. My world became a small, dark place seemingly overnight, and I\’ve struggled since then to find a way back into "real", everyday life.

The problem is that I\’m not sure I fit into the world the so-called normal people inhabit. I can fake it– sometimes very well– but often it still feels like a foreign place to me. There is some sort of disconnect between me and the everyday existence others seem to enjoy– a gap that I just can\’t seem to bridge.

I think all of us– even those "normal" people– eventually want to find a place where they feel at home. For those of us with OCD, perhaps this desire is even greater. Because we cannot find sanctuary within our own heads, some of us seek out some sort of safe haven in the external world.

Once I realized (after years of trying) that there wasn\’t really a place in which I could find the safety and comfort I longed for– that no matter where I went, my head went with me– I abandoned the search for any specific place to "settle". I began to travel, sometimes extensively, not in search of a permanent sanctuary, but perhaps to escape the idea that any such place existed.

Since then, I\’ve been to quite a few places. I seem to favor Europe, and have bummed around close to 20 countries there. Sometimes it\’s been pleasurable and other times it\’s been painful, but in the end my world has grown larger because of it. I seem to be less of a misfit while on the road (or rails), and connecting with others seems to happen more regulary while traveling. While I can\’t say that I\’ve uncovered any great secrets regarding making it back to the land of the living, I think that in some way my wanderings have helped.