Not many people know I struggle with this, so who better to tell than the small public that may read this.
I was turning 14 when I realized something was wrong with myself.
I remember feeling hopeless and different than how I had felt just a couple years ago. I remember wanting to talk to someone SO bad about how I was feeling, what I was thinking, and all the phobias I had. I tried talking to my mother, the person I knew I could tell everything to, but she just kept telling me, “Stop worrying and overreacting! Nothing is wrong with you. God wouldn’t want to make you worry!” And with that, I knew I couldn’t tell anyone else since my own mother thought I was crazy.
I grew up as a Catholic and learning that God never leaves us alone...But I didn’t feel that He was with me at that time. I just knew he existed and was maybe putting me through some twisted test.
I prayed, and prayed that the feelings of wanting to cry for no reason at all, feeling so alone even when there were people around, worrying about getting really ill; or even worse, getting appendicitis (My ULTIMATE phobia), and feeling completely depressed when I didn’t even want to, and being anxious all the time, to just go away and never come back.
Eventually things got worse and I started slowing down my overacting brain to realize all the patterns I had been doing. It started by feeling that my anxiety was at a constant roller coaster, it would go UP then I’d touch a doorknob 8 to 15 times and it would go back DOWN. But it didn’t stop there, I found myself going to the bathroom 4 times and checking the light switches off and on another 5 times before I went to sleep, counting the gulps I took when I drank water, moving frames in place, having certain things organized by size, counting to 7 seven times when I would try to stop a compulsion before it got worse…that made it worse. And worst of all, I would touch my stomach way more than constantly, especially my right side. I was apparently so afraid of getting appendicitis that I had to press and let go close to where the appendix was to make sure there were no horrible pains. That was where I couldn’t take it anymore and would cry.
I remember the exact moment where I realized what I had, why I had it was a different story, I was sitting in my room watching MTV’S® True Life™: I have OCD.
When I saw that episode I nearly broke down. Mostly everything they did, I was doing. I didn’t realize until then, but I even made my family do my compulsions so I wouldn’t have such a big load on me. Like turn on the lights because “I Forgot something” (When I really didn’t) I knew it was bad, and if I didn’t get help, it was going to get much worse than it already was.
A few weeks later (I thought) my stomach hurt and began freaking out and doing compulsions to calm my anxiety even more than before. I talked my mom into taking me to the Doctor’s so they could give me a check up. I was almost certain that my phobia was coming true.
We walked into a Doctor’s office and I started being a bit relieved knowing that if something was going to happen, at least I wouldn’t be alone. Once I was called to the Doctor’s room I was hoping everything would be ok, my mom didn’t seem worried at all.
The Doctor came in and did the regular ear check, pee-in-a-cup test, and when I told him about my “abdominal pain” and how I was worried it was appendicitis, he didn’t seem the least bit worried either, he told me to lay on my back and started pressing around my stomach and asking if I felt and shooting pain, I told him not really. It just felt uncomfortable in my stomach.
He wrote some things on a piece of paper and said, “You don’t have appendicitis, but I’m going to call someone else to come talk to you, if that’s ok? Just to ask you some questions.” He didn’t look worried, he looked more like sympathetic for me. Another Doctor came in with some papers and asked if I wanted my mom there or not, I said, “Yes please.” And he began asking me questions that weren’t medical,
“Do you sometimes feel scared?”
“Uhm…yes”
at that point I knew the questions were not going to get easier to handle, he proceeded,
“Do you feel alone even when you have your family or company around you?”
“…Yes” (I beganto tear)
“Do you feel depressed like nobody cares how you feel?”
“Yes” (I started to cry)
I looked to where my mom was sitting silently and she began to tear. He asked me a couple more questions that made me feel relieved to admit to someone that I was not feeling happy. My mom then spoke while tearing, “Christina, I didn’t know you felt like this!” I responded, “I didn’t tell you because you only said God was going to make me feel better and I knew you wouldn’t care or believe me.” The doctor then said, “Christina, I’m going to help you find someone to talk to, a psychologist could help you feel better. What you’re physically feeling isn’t because your sick medically, it’s because you’re so afraid that you’re brain is tricking you into thinking you are sick when you’re not. A brain is a powerful part of the body that can make you feel physically ill when you’re just psychologically in stress and scared” He gave me a paper with psychologists name’s and addresses and hugged me.
Walking out of the Doctor’s office with hope was such an incredible feeling, something I missed, relief. My mom just held me and said, “I’m sorry. I’m going to help you chose someone you can talk to. I believe you, and I know god WILL help you, but we have to put our parts for him to help you.”
I went to a psychologist for 2 years and now, almost 4 years later, I can honestly say I’m a changed person. And although I get those DOWN phases where I start compulsioning again, I know the psychologist was right when she told me, “You will go through this again once you’re over it, but next time it will be different, you will be strong enough to be able to get through on your own. Everyone will eventually have a psychological problem in their life, but you’ve been through the worse already, in a way, you’re lucky.”
And it’s true, I’m in another phase again and it’s not easy, but it’s not AS difficult as it was. Not even close. It stopped for about a year and came back then went, and came back again, but when it does come back, I’m not in as much anxiety as I was. I doing feel depressed and alone like I did. I do believe God helped me through it all, and now my relationship with his is stronger than it ever has been. I’ve been able to keep my feet on the ground and look forward to the future. It may be something that comes and goes for the rest of my life, or it may be something that’s like a pain killer, where you have to experience A LOT of pain after taking it, but then it sets in and the pain is gone completely.
I know like to help people, probably more than I actually help myself, I can’t stand to see someone go through something bad and just sit and say, “Oh that sucks” because I’ve been there, and it just made me feel worse thinking that nobody believes you or thinks it’s a big deal. But it is. It took control of my life for years. But through all of it, I’m much more stronger and smile A LOT more than I used to.
Its God’s work in Our lives, but it’s up to us if we want to accept His help and help him help us. He shouldn’t have to do it alone.
One day I’d like to write about of all the things that happened to me in between the time I began feeling bad, to the time now. Because besides all the emotional side effects, I went through Spiritual experiences as well. And I’ve seen things that scarred me, but were never answered on HOW and WHY I saw them.
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