Hey everyone,
I’ve shared my case before, mostly by commenting on other posts… This time, I want to discuss how OCD crises evolve over the years when they come sporadically.
My first major crisis 20 years ago was terrifying—I lost almost all my friends, nearly lost my job, and it took years of medication and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to reach near remission (though not permanently). Back then, my symptoms, mainly HOCD, were overwhelming, but learning about the disorder brought hope. Every new case I read, every book, therapy session, and even every new pack of SSRIs felt like a step toward improvement.
Today, after several less intense crises and persistent symptoms, I’m facing a new form of OCD: ruminating over real but irrelevant events and irrationally blaming myself. While I no longer feel that consuming fear, I also feel less hopeful. OCD has become such a constant in my life that I can’t imagine being without it.
Medication? Helps but doesn’t solve it.
Therapy? Requires dedication I no longer have.
Studying OCD? I’ve learned enough about my case.
Have you ever felt like you’ve reached a point where you accept that this is just who you are?
Part of my OCD tells me it’s a form of balance—that because I’m fortunate in other areas, I don’t deserve all that good, and OCD keeps me in check. Accepting it as part of me instead of an enemy feels better, but it’s strange to no longer have that hopeful feeling of one day being free from it…
When I fought this Thing years ago as an enemy, it was kind of a motivation to believe I would win, even in the middle of a terrible battle. Now, this feeling of “If this were a war between me and OCD, I guess we both lost” is strange sometimes