Why do I worry so much? I often try to answer this question within myself, and of course I can’t. I have been trapped on the wheel of ocd, anxiety, & depression, & hypercondria for more than 20 years. I have been to numerous therapists and on numerous meds in that time span and it wasn’t until 2013-2014 that it was finally broken down to me that I have OCD. I always thought it just involved hand washing, flipping light swtiches, and cleaning. Never did I ever think my fear of the Dr missing something or my never accepting the fact that my family is ok was Ocd Nope never saw that coming. I have to check, double check, triple check. I am never satisfied. Thanks to my intrusive thoughts, I will take something simple and catastrophically blow it all the way to end stage brain you know what.(yes I am afraid to type the C word). When I am on a down spiral I jump out of my sleep with a racing heart and burning sizzle that is so trademarked with the panic attack we all know and hate. Or I wake up in the morning with the biggest feeling of dread and doom. At night I jump up and check to see if hubby is breathing. I walk the house to peek in on the kids in the middle of the night they are 13 and 19 years old by the way. I run myself ragged with fear. By the time the medical professionals really take me seriously about whatever my issue is at that time it will be too damn late. Too late to save me, my son, my daughter, or hubby who ever my obsession is focussed on at the time. I do not know how to get off. How do I stop it how do I not give in to the ruminating intrusive terrifying voice that is sitting on my shoulder?

My therapist is excellent love her to pieces. We have really good sessions. The exposure therapy is so hard, but I know its to make me a better person in the long run. The problem is when I am not in the safe confines of her office soaking up her sound advice like a sponge. But (and yes with me there is always a but) when I am in the real world. When my son misses his bus home from work at night and I automatically think the worst. When my daughter has a fever and stuffy nose I automatically think the worst. When my husband misses a water pill or two and his ankles get puffy and I automatically think the worst. When will it stop. When will my brain be ok with accepting the normal and stop looking for the absolute worst in the world?

And you want to know the saddest part? This is usually where my depression decides to invite itself to the party. I know, like I assume most of us out there know, everyday I spend like this is a day that I will never get back. Every time I burst into tears from sheer fear or from incessantly begging for my families forgiveness for being such a pain in the ass.

Will I ever be normal? Will I ever find out why I worry and second guess everything so much?