If you're reading this, you will find peace.
I thought I was “crazy” for years. In middle school, I felt nauseous every day and would often be sick before school. I was always on the verge of tears for seemingly no reason. I spent days dwelling on little everyday things, and wondered why nothing seemed fun anymore. I was constantly worried about my grades, even though they were good. And the worst part was, I had no idea what was “wrong” with me. I had, and still have, a great family, I went to a good school where I wasn't bullied, and I did well in school and at my extracurriculars. And yet, I dreaded waking up in the morning and facing every day when all I wanted was to stay curled up in my bed. I was ashamed of my behavior and felt isolated from everyone around me. I thought the way I felt was my fault, that I was being dramatic and overly sensitive. Why couldn't I just enjoy things like everyone else?
In late middle school and the first years of high school, my OCD decided to ramp up. Now I really thought I was crazy. Why did I think that wearing my favorite red dress would kill my boyfriend? Why did l think I had the power to hurt people by looking in their eyes? Why did I think that God hated me because the phrase "I hate God" popped into my head, unbidden? It got to the point where it was difficult to function, since every little thing I did, no matter how innocuous, felt like it caused harm and possibly death. At my worst, I felt out of touch with reality, and like I couldn't figure out what was real. I had no idea what was going on, since I always thought OCD was just about washing your hands and wanting things to be symmetrical. Who knew it could also be about having to turn off the light in a particular way while thinking of a certain word in order to avoid a bout of anxiety?
My life began to change in freshman year of high school when I was diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) and OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). Finally I had a name for what was causing me so much distress, an answer to all those "why" questions I had spent years asking. This was the start of a long, gradual process that allowed me to manage my mental illness. I remember my father told me when I started taking medication that, without medication, I was like an unarmed person trying to fight a person with a sword. Medication didn't automatically defeat the other person, it just gave me a sword so it was a fair fight. I still had to fight compulsions, but I now felt more equipped to do so.
The process of managing my GAD and OCD is ongoing, and will probably never end. However, I feel like a completely different person than I was even five years ago. I can actually enjoy things and pay attention to them while they're happening, rather than constantly worrying about the future or dwelling on the past. I still have to fight compulsions sometimes, but I am more like a badass, sword-wielding knight now and less of a clueless squire holding a sword. As for my anxiety, I still struggle with intense feelings of guilt and worry, but now I have techniques that allow me to "check the facts" and realize that I'm okay, the world isn't ending, and this feeling will pass in a moment.
If you feel completely alone, crazy, and delusional, know that there are others like you who have felt and still feel the same way. If my mental illness has taught me anything, it's that it's okay for strange, even bad, things to pop into your head. They don't define you and they certainly don't mean you're a bad person. There will be days where you lay on your bed on a summer afternoon and aren't worried about anything. If you’re reading this, you will know peace, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. Keep practicing your swordsmanship and you'll be surprised at what you can do.
Jojo P., Boston College ‘24
