The Fight

I won.

I lost.

I’ll win again.

I beat OCD once, and by “beat” I mean to say that I maintained it. But OCD was always there, waiting to grab ahold of a small fear, to take control again. And it did. A new fear, a new place, but the same old safety behaviors. I feel angry, defeated, frustrated, and depressed. One of the hardest things about OCD taking back control, is having to tell your family that you lost. That you’re afraid of the invisible again, that staying inside all day is easier than dealing with the unseen and endless dangers of the real world. It didn’t matter how many times my therapist or my sister told me that I could not run away from my OCD, there would always be a piece of me that would hold on hope to that possibility. I thought I would be the exception, the one person who would beat OCD once and for all. But I didn’t. And this time my OCD had learned all of my tricks and come back stronger. I let that small seed of hope take root once again when I moved a month ago; thinking I could leave all the fear behind me and start over. Of course it followed me here, into my new clean house. It’s a disappointment that I am going to have to face many more times in my future. I will have to learn to accept that it is not a failing in me, but just a part of the fight. The fight that I will keep on fighting.

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