The Monster Under My Bed Named OCD
FACING YOUR FEARS INSTEAD OF GIVING INTO THEM
By Cassie Rourke
Jon Tyson / Unsplash
When I was little, the scariest thing in my life was the make-believe monsters that lived under my bed, lurking in shadows and in my closet. The only time my fear crept up was when the lights went out and I was left to defend myself from them. All there was to do at the time was to pull the covers over my head and stay under there until I closed my eyes and counted sheep. In the morning, the monsters would be forgotten.
When I was about to enter junior high, there was this fear in me that had started. A crippling panic, where it felt as though if I moved or changed anything in the scene around me, the world would end — or even worse the thought would come true. The fear led to thoughts that were uncomfortable or even distressing at times. I felt as though nothing would be right, that I couldn’t move on with my day if I didn’t push the fear out.
So, I came up with this routine where I would repeat movements or thoughts over and over until I felt at ease again. It became a ritual to block out intrusive thoughts. It started with something simple, suddenly there couldn’t be any blue pencils in my school bag or else something bad would happen. It didn't make any logical sense, but I made myself believe the statement. So, I gave away all my blue pencils, the first of many sacrifices I made for my OCD. The anxiety would wash over me like a tsunami, the rituals being the lifeboat I needed to get through the disaster.
I started accommodating this mental illness, making room for it in my life instead of standing up to it. As time went on, certain anxiety-provoking fears passed through my brain. The scariest ones lurked in the shadows like the monsters from my childhood, waiting for the perfect moment to jump out. And they always did. Later in life, my fears had shifted from small things like broken ankles to way bigger things.
My friends would describe me as a light-hearted, funny person whose laugh could make even the saddest people happy. That’s who I am. I didn’t want to hurt anyone I loved. But, once again, I gave into the OCD and let it push me around. There was always a need to push those thoughts out of my head. The only way to do so was by using the rituals I had started.
I was spending all my time trying to get rid of this anxiety, but all I really was doing was giving into it. It took a long time for me to tell anyone about what was going on. How could they even begin to understand? When I was finally ready to talk, my parents told me I was making these stories up to get attention. So, I continued to suffer in silence. I come from a family that would rather sweep things under the rug than confront them.
My whole life was taken up by this mental illness. I was severely depressed, avoiding anything that made me anxious, failing most of my classes, and not getting out of bed. I stopped taking care of myself, and pushed all my friends away. There was a point where my parents decided they were done with my nonsense and switched my schools. I had no one to reach out to, I was made fun of because I wore the same clothes all the time, was told I smelled bad, called out for the weird things I did. How could I take care of myself when I couldn’t even get out of bed?
Since then I have reached out and seen a therapist, my parents came around, I’ve graduated high school. I’ve persevered and come out on the other side. I now have the tools I need to know what to do when I struggle.
The monsters are still there when I shut the lights off at night but I’m ready to fight them when they do come. This time I’m not hiding under the covers, I’m facing the monsters head-on and speaking up about it.
Cassie Rourke is from Wolfeboro, New Hampshire. In her free time, she likes to read (mostly fantasy) and dance. She’s a fan of musical theatre and loves watching TV shows and lacrosse. She’s an advocate for mental health and just wants people to know that it’s always okay to ask for help.
