Member-only story
Ten Years of Silence
What it’s like to “come out” as having OCD
Author’s note: October 13–19th is OCD Awareness Week.
Imagine all your worst thoughts as a soundtrack running through your mind 24/7, day after day. — Adam Walker
I was twenty when I finally found a description of OCD in my psychology 101 textbook. The symptoms I’d suffered for nearly ten years were listed right there in black and white, delivering an explanation for all the torment I’d endured. I stared down at the page, tears spilling from a place I thought I’d lost long ago. A flicker of hope ignited, then wavered. The beginning of the fight had been silent. Now I had a choice: trust someone with my discovery or continue to suffer. The options were equally terrifying.
Deliberation
I couldn’t decide where to turn. I didn’t want to tell anyone. For more than a week, I kept silent. It was just one more lie of omission, I told myself. In truth, I needed time to process the enormity of what I’d discovered. When I realized I had OCD, the sense of relief at knowing I wasn’t alone was almost euphoric, but the thoughts didn’t stop, nor were they any less panic-inducing.
