A Personal

When I was five I was considered for having OCD.

To my family at the time they laughed at how I was "considered".

It's a mental illness, you either have it or you don't.

As I grew older it became evident that I was more than just considered.

My little friends would think it was funny that when we high-fived 

that we would have to do it one each hand.

By the age of 13 years I had recovered fully from OCD.

All the thoughts and rituals were no longer a part of my life.

I felt renewed and full of love.

Oh man did I think I was on top of the world.

That only lasted for two years.

The beginning of my downfall was lead by my "boyfriend"

or so that's what he called himself.

Young love!  

Full of awkward eye contact during math class, and the occcasional butt touching.

For me that was fine, I was content with the situation.

A year into this relationship my boy was now wanting more

His mind was set on all the way, while mine was set on Mario Kart in his basement.

He tousled my hair and hooked onto my waist like cling wrap.

Soon it turned into a fight for my innocence.

He had one hand clasped onto my throat and the other on the button of my tight jeans.

Before anything worst happened, his little brother rushed down the stairs to see what the screaming was.

My now ex-boyfriend sat nonchalantly saying it was only a spider she saw.

My body was in flight mode, and I took to my car.

I couldn't understand the feelings boiling in my chest.

I felt like the lowest most undesirable thing on earth now banished to the bottom of the ocean.

The color in my life was gone like the wilted flowers he had given me on my birthday.

The agony in my head could not be soothed by a mother's murmurs or music or even my friends' smiling faces.

The only thing I felt comfort in was my old habits.

The pal inside my head


What a great feeling.  

The only thing that could help me could only hurt me.

I moved to a new school.

Everything about it depressed me.

All the attention, especially the attention from the boys.

I'm sure the other girls were jealous of my position but

All my trust for males was completely gone.

The only guy I could talk to without panicking was my brother.

The pressure was too much and I was hospitalized.

A whole week with crazy people who surprisingly knew what it was like to be violated

Who knew that OCD wasn't a joke

Who knew that it was just more than putting your pencils a certain way.

Who knew that we all would be alright because it's all in our heads

Our incredibly diluted reality was somewhere between the forest of rituals and terrorists of thoughts.

I got out feeling like I was on  top of the world once again.

Kids in my classes still didn't understand and to this day they don't

I won't ever tell them, because all they can do in their shallow hearts is say "Oh, that sucks?"

Yeah I know it sucks. I lived through it for years.

Of course I would love to tell everyone I've ever touched but that would be a mistake.

So now lately, even though some days are on the upward slope and others drift backwards, I am grateful that this actually happened.

Not one other person has been in my exact situation.  

Not that I would want anyone to, but I know that not many people would be able to handle the mental torture I have been through.

Every picture taken of me either shows an uphill slope or a downhill spiral.  

Hopefully for the rest of my life all the selfies will be full of laughter, happiness, self-love, and the feeling like I'm on top of the world. 



This is really personal but I just had to finally share it. 

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