If you’re reading this, you don’t have to have everything together.
It was the beginning of my junior year of high school, and something just wasn’t right. Gone were the days where I felt like the happy, go-lucky person I used to be. Those emotions were replaced with one anxious thought after another about whatever my mind decided to jump to: myself, my friends, my family, anything.
The thing is, on paper it seemed like there was no reason for me to have these feelings. On paper, my grades were great. On paper, I was an involved member of my high school. On paper, I had no reason to live with the anxious thoughts I had - high school was supposed to be the time of my life.
I realize now that anything about me “on paper” was a lie. Deep down, I was struggling. No one knew it. I tried to hide from my peers that I would go to bed with these anxious thoughts and wake up in the morning with the same ones. I tried to hide that I couldn’t find enjoyment in much of anything because I was so caught up in my own mind. I lived two lives - one on the inside that carried such a burden, and one on the outside that hid all of my struggles from those around me. I became a master at making it seem like I had everything together when that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I wanted to seem like my life was perfect, on paper.
As my anxious thoughts gradually worsened, it was finally during my senior year when I realized I had to make a change. With the help of my parents, I found a therapist. Therapy, for me, was scarier than the thoughts I was having because it meant I finally had to let someone know I was struggling. I could no longer act like life was good; it forced me to be raw and honest with the burden I carried. At the first visit, my therapist diagnosed me with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). This isn’t the typical OCD that people joke about when they are clean or organized, but it is an anxiety disorder that is centered around the obsessive thoughts I was having. I felt a sense of relief when I finally found what the root of my issue was, until I learned that OCD has no cure.
The reality that my OCD is incurable was difficult to grasp, but therapy became the best thing that could have happened to me. I no longer had to pretend or worry about what others thought of me, and I learned how to deal with my OCD so that it didn’t consume me like it once did. I shifted my focus from being scared of what it can do to me, to what I have done to it. I realized I can live a life where it doesn’t define me, and now two years removed from the start of therapy I have made such great strides that my OCD barely affects my everyday life.
I once wondered why I was given such a burden - why was I the one that had to deal with OCD? But now, I wouldn’t change my experience with it for the world. It is my battle that has shaped me into who I am today.
I write this to anyone struggling because I want you to realize that there is no shame in having any mental health disorder. It is beyond your control. However, instead of letting it define you, define it. Do not hide from it in the hopes that everyone else will think you have it all together, but rather be proud of the battle you’ve already fought and will continue to conquer.
I also encourage you to get help if you need it. Whether it be talking to a therapist or a friend, reach out to someone so that you do not have to fight your battle alone. It is an amazing feeling to talk to someone about your struggles instead of just pretending that life is good. Don’t forget that everyone is going through something whether we know it or not, and sometimes the most important thing is to have our voices heard. And luckily, we have the Clemson family to hear each and every one of our voices.
This is a time when so much is unknown. None of us know what is next, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. If you’re reading this, be proud of the battle you have fought, and keep fighting.
Joshua Coleman, Clemson University ‘23
