When I think about the person I used to be, I can only muster feelings of loss.
Now, people may say that this is an extreme view to take. ‘You haven’t changed, you’ve just got OCD!’ they cry. But what people don’t realise is that OCD doesn’t just change who you are or how you behave, OCD removes pieces of you silently and swiftly. You lose the parts that make you, well, you.
Grief is the word that comes to mind, because the fun, confident and calm person has died and has been replaced by a depressed, anxious, frantic, frustrated, rude, sleepless, snappy, irritable, controlling and heartbroken one.
I have lost myself. And the hardest part is recognising this and knowing that I haven’t got a clue where to start looking.
OCD, you are a thief. An uncontrollable stealer of motivation, happiness and, ironically, control. I have given into you and I don’t know how to fight back. I haven’t got the tools or the will or wherewithal to stop you. I feel defeated.
But I can’t let you win, because if I say those words, ‘You win’ I really might as well be dead. All my past victories and the love and support of my family would be worth shit. So I can’t let you win. I have to somehow hold on, grip that ledge and never let go. I have to beat you, I must beat you, my life depends on it.
You may be controlling me and keeping me down for now, but as Arnie famously said, ‘I’ll be back’.