OCD and Alcoholism: My Answer to Life's Uncertainties

Many reminisce on simple, carefree childhoods. I never knew such a thing. I have always been burdened with an intense fear of all that is uncertain, and because life is uncertain, I became afraid of life itself. From the age of six onward, my brain was inundated with disturbing images beyond my control. The only way I knew how to cope with these thoughts was by repeating words to myself that counteracted the ugliness of the thoughts in my head. With each hideous, perverse thought, I whispered the word "pony" to myself. Ponies were innocent and sweet. They served as a very brief distraction to this noise. My obsessions have waxed and waned throughout the years, and I have struggled with many different subtypes, ranging from the more taboo types to the more stereotypical ones revolving around cleanliness and order. When I was diagnosed with OCD at age 11, I was perplexed. To me, and to many others still, OCD was not a disorder. OCD was a quirk. It was actually a gift in some ways. OCD meant that you were supernaturally neat and tidy. Even now in an age where mental health has become less stigmatized, OCD is often not taken seriously. People laugh as they say things like, "I am so OCD," perhaps oblivious to the pain that those with OCD suffer through every day. My disorder was a joke. That was the message I got from society. As my pain grew, I began to over-identify with my mental health problems. I went from therapist to therapist where I received diagnosis after diagnosis. It didn't matter what the diagnosis was because the message was the same. You are messed up. You are broken. We must fix you. I didn't understand myself or my personality beyond my pathologies. By the time I entered college, I felt that no one truly knew me unless they knew the laundry list of my diagnoses and every which way they were screwing up my life. I felt like a liability, not a person. I was a ball of shame. Naturally, I turned to substances as I was absolutely through with thinking. I wanted so badly to escape myself. The OCD brain is very accustomed to having the same thoughts loop day in and day out. It is a broken record. I took to substance abuse quickly. When my obsessions began revolving around drugs and alcohol, it felt like a natural continuation of the OCD cycle. I went on like this for years. I was stuck in self-pity. This was my lot in life. My mental health problems were an easy excuse for my substance abuse and my substance abuse was an easy excuse for my bad behavior. It didn't occur to me that I had any power over my life. I didn't think my actions mattered. It took me getting sober to realize what is and what is not in my control. The serenity prayer is my lifeline, and it helps with my OCD as well. I cannot control the thoughts and images that enter into my head, but I get to choose how I react to them, and whether or not I engage in a compulsion. This applies whether my brain convinces me my family is going to die if I don't say ten hail mary's or if it convinces me I need a drink to not go insane. I am still looking for a therapist that truly feels like a good fit. Finding a therapist that is right for me is within my control, and it is empowering to be able to decide who will help me on my journey. For once in my life, I have hope that if I persevere, I will be okay.