Author: Natalie Amo

I have OCD and Depression and this is a little bit of my story.

We Need to Talk About It – trigger warning

“OCD has a mortality rate. It depends on the day and if she can battle it.” – My Sister

Suicide is not something we as a society like to talk about. But it’s crucial that we remove this stigma surrounding mental health and death. So, if at the very least, those of us who are dealing with it on a daily basis, and those that must support us through it, don’t have to do it by ourselves anymore. Feeling like you have to keep such a huge part of yourself hidden from the world, it makes you feel like you have something to be ashamed of.

But this is a huge part of who I am today, and if I can’t share it with those I am close to, then they can’t really know me. So here it is. I have, and probably always will have, suicidal thoughts. This is something that I am still coming to terms with, something that I have been ashamed of. It took me a long time to admit to myself that I could even think about thinking about giving up something that so many people who love me have worked so hard to provide me with. Life. And even writing this, I couldn’t write that “I am suicidal”, it’s not something that I can identify with. But I have come to realize that feeling this way does not mean that I am not grateful for the life I have been given. I am thankful for my family and my friends, and the opportunities I have been given in life. I try to remind myself every night to be thankful for these things. And even at my worst moments, I would never want to lose these people or this life. But that’s the thing that mental illness, and OCD, does to you. It convinces you that everything would be easier if you just gave up. And that may be true. But “easy” doesn’t make you who you are. It doesn’t help you grow. Working through the hard and scary is what has made me who I am. And it is what will make me into a person that I can be proud of again, no matter where I end up in life.

Until I can show and communicate who I am today, I will feel disconnected to at least some extent from those around me. Even those that I have known my entire life. I don’t want to isolate myself anymore. I am tired of feeling so alone when I’m surrounded by people.

You don’t have to be alone with this. Please don’t be alone with this. We need to make space in this world for people to talk.

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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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I Am

I am someone who plays the guitar. Badly.

I am someone who loves to read.

I am someone who’s lost their mother.

I am someone who loves to learn and to study.

I am someone who grieves.

I am someone who loves someone.

I am someone who has changed.

I am someone with OCD.

I am someone with a name.

I am someone trying to figure out what that name means.

I am someone who’s trying to find their self.

I am someone.

I am me. Whoever that is.

And that’s ok.

 

 

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Control

One of the many contradictions of OCD is that you are fighting with your life to take control of everything, trying to make sure that you don’t let anything bad happen; but the thing you want most in the world, or at least what I want, is to not have any control. I crave relief from this feeling of impossible responsibility for things I cannot control. I want permission to not be in control. Ever since I can remember, people have always come to me for help. I don’t know why, they just always came to talk to me whether I was in a position to help or not. They never asked if I could help, they never worried about whether I was scared about something too, whether this problem of theirs that they were bringing me would be the one to overload me and cause me to crash. And I always put them first. Until I couldn’t. I think my mom warned me; she probably told me that my desire and willingness to help others was beautiful, but that I mattered too. That I shouldn’t forget about myself. But I did. So I was trained by my mind from the beginning that it was my responsibility to take care of others. It was somehow my innate role to make sure that everyone was okay, happy, comfortable. It started with small things and turned into full blown OCD, convincing me that I alone am responsible for the lives around me; that I somehow have the ability to make or break someone’s life. No one has that ability. I had created for myself a false sense of duty, that I had to be in control. After my mom died I tried to stay in control. I got good grades, I tried to make sure our new family was comfortable and happy with the two teenagers that just got dropped into their lives. I went to college. And my peers kept coming to me with their stresses and fears so that I could be in control instead of them. But then I decided that I wanted a two sided relationship instead of an unqualified-doctor-patient one. I didn’t want control. I was exhausted. I finally realized that I was angry, and that I was sad. And I decided to pull away and give up control. But I had held onto it for too long, and then dropped it too fast. My mind decided all on its own to get control back and it did so by taking responsibility for everything. Everything. I don’t want control. I don’t want to care so much. I just want to live. I’ve missed out on so much of my young adulthood. I want it back. I just want to lose control. But that thought brings me so much guilt. I need someone to tell me that it’s ok. I need someone to tell me that it’s ok to stop now, that I’ve done my part; that I can lose control.

OCD is the feeling of having far too much control, but not having any power over it, resulting in a constant sense of failing.

OCD has taken the joy out of many things I once loved, but I am fighting to get them back. I hope soon I will be able to be there for others in the way I once loved. Maybe writing these things down and getting them out of my head will free up some of that space I so much need.

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My OCD

For me, OCD is not what they depict in the media. It’s not a quirky or endearing trait. It’s not a punchline or a bumper sticker. It’s real and paralyzing fear.
There wasn’t a clear moment in which OCD took over. I simply kept trying to fix and save things, and make life safe. But in reality I was just digging myself deeper into OCD’s grasp.
It was easier and safer not to sit in that spot. So I didn’t. It was easier and safer not to wear those clothes. So I didn’t. It was easier and safer not to eat at that table. So I didn’t. It was easier and safer not eat so I didn’t it was easier and safer not to sleep so I didn’t it was easier and safer not to get out of bed so I didn’t it was easier and safer it was easier and safer. It was easier and safer not to.
I was fighting with everything that I had to stay alive and happy until I had created a life not worth living. Until I had made myself miserable, and my mind was not my own anymore. I could no longer retreat inside of myself for safety because my self had become the hostile enemy.
Battle is scary and draining. And when you’re forced to battle yourself, you’re forced to give, and take, all of the punches. You have to dig deep down to find that will to keep going. But the fight isn’t just for you. It’s for everyone who loves you, and knows that you’re still deep inside that mind somewhere. You are not your OCD.
It goes against all instinct to train yourself not to trust your own mind. OCD lies to you. It feeds off of your fear. It’s a bully. And as I’ve learned this year, you beat OCD just as you would a bully. You take away its fun. You do the exact opposite of what that bully – your brain – is expecting.
When I hear people talking about me now, it’s like they are talking about two different people at once, neither of which are the person I used to know as me, but who I know I’ve become. One night I heard my sister attempting to explain the anomaly which is my brain. Once again desperately trying to get others to understand the feeling of real danger and constant impending loss that just keeps replaying in my mind. And I just stood there silently. Knowing everything they were saying was true yet false all at the same time. The few disjointed words that did float over to my corner, words like “trigger” and “fear” and “stuck”, just washed over me and I felt numb and empty. I don’t recognize myself anymore; my brain is struggling to make room for itself in this new crowded shell that has too many thoughts racing through it.
I want to sit and listen, maybe they have some better view of what my life has become that can help me understand myself. Because I have been racking my brain trying to figure out where my mind turned wrong, where my self went. But I can’t sit and listen, I’m afraid of the stairs. And I can’t keep standing, my feet and knees are starting to ache so I want to get into bed and fall fast asleep, warm and safe. But I’m afraid of the bed. So I keep standing. I have a newfound talent of being comfortable with being insanely uncomfortable. When I finally do go to sleep, I won’t feel warm, and I definitely won’t feel safe.
I took my future for granted once, and I lost it all. Now I can see the future I want, but I can’t live in the present. Instead I am constantly working to prevent the loss of that future. Washing and avoiding and rewashing to make everything safe, just to get me to that happy place somewhere in the future. So that the present is horrifying and angering and a constant disappointment. How do I find that happy place in the now?
I’m living in the middle of two ultimatums; a lose-lose for me. On one side, my OCD tells me that if I don’t listen to it, and follow its directions, I will lose my happy future. And on the other side, my mind tells me that if I listen to OCD and live by its rules, I’ll lose my happy present. So either I listen to one and I’m miserable now, or I listen to the other and I’m miserable later. How do I choose what to lose and what to save?
This past year may not have gone as planned, and yes, I once again have had to mourn the loss of the identity I had built for myself. But I will find myself again. No matter what I end up doing or where I’ll be, I can always say that I have had the strength and courage to stand up against OCD and depression every day of my life. And not only that, but that I will keep on fighting.
-June 2017
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It was a long day

I came home today.

But I didn’t go inside.

I didn’t go inside, not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t.

I wanted to go inside. But I sat and waited.

He let me in when he got home.

I walked upstairs.

I walked into our bedroom. Alone.

I stood there and looked out the window.

And finally the emptiness washed over me.

My eyes looked forward and saw nothing.

The tiredness stung them, but felt like nothing.

My hands hung down at my sides and felt like heavy nothingness.

Tears fell from my eyes effortlessly.

My mind felt full and empty at the same time.

The only thoughts in my head:

Why?

What next?

I don’t know how long I stood there.

I heard him come in behind me.

I found the will to move my feet.

To take off my clothes.

To get into the shower.

I don’t remember feeling the water.

I got out, and he stood there.

Silence.

He helped me get dressed.

He held me.

I could feel him trying so hard to push past my emptiness.

To be more present than my loneliness.

I love him for it.

I want it to be enough.

Now I lay here.

My hands feel like they’re in slow motion.

They feel like nothing.

My eyes still don’t see.

They hurt.

They’re too tired to stay open.

But too tired to close.

My chest aches.

In an annoying, persistent way.

Like my heart is just a little more broken than it was before.

It’s beating harder to make up the difference.

But I don’t know why it’s trying so hard.

The emptiness inside me.

This emptiness that’s filling every inch of my body.

This emptiness hurts.

I’m not really sure how nothing can hurt.

But I feel it so greatly.

This emptiness.

It makes me tired.

I’m tired.

What next.

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Welcome

Mental health is not something we as a society like to talk about. But we need to; I need to. I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) in 2016. It has been quite the journey, learning to recreate my identity surrounding an illness I knew little to nothing about, other than the preconceived biases that this society had created for me. Now that OCD affects everything that I do and everything that I think, all of the little misconceived comments about OCD in the media and from people around me, they hurt. I want to help change these ideas, and the way that we talk about OCD and mental illness. So I am writing this for myself, for understanding, to free up more space in my mind, and for you, if you would like to read it and to learn.

DISCLAIMER: The following posts contain pieces of my battle with a debilitating and often disheartening mental illness, and may be difficult to read for those also fighting depression or other mental illnesses. Please read further knowing that sensitive subjects will be brought up, but that I do so with the hope that others can find an ally. If you are struggling with depression, please know that while not many talk about this battle, you are not alone in it.

 

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