In 1995 I was a senior in college. I was excellent
student, some would say driven. I was outgoing,
flamboyant, friendly, gregarious, risk-taking. During
the fall semester I found myself not attending class,
crying all the time, looking at the ground. I could
not make decisions or carry on conversations. I could
not decide what to eat or where to sit or what to do
with myself. I was totally paralyzed form the inside
out. I heard only loud noises reverberating in my
brain. I shouted at myself all the time just to keep
the noise out, just to drown out the white noise in my
head. I felt like I was sharing brain space with a
roaring lion. I could not sleep as I would think that
a flaming big mac truck would run me over, in spite of
my location on the third floor. I could not drive as
I feared getting into accidents. I daydreamed that my
family died and I went to their funerals. Things on
the side of the road were on fire and cars blew up
before my eyes. It was a bizarre time in my life as I
felt I was loosing my mind. My sanity. I thought I
was going crazy.
I have been diagnosed with major depression and OCD.
Most recently my OCD has manifested itself in a
slightly different way. I could not merge or turn
left in the car as I felt an overwhelming sense of
anxiety and horror. I could not sleep. I repeated
everything to everyone, as if they had forgotten it
the world would blow up. I checked my alarm clock a
gazillion times before I went to bed. If my husband
would not check it for me, I would stay awake until he
went asleep so I could check it without him getting
mad. I always had to know where all my things were at
all times; I would count my water glasses, my
silverware, my plates. I had to be able to put my
hands on or visualize the location of my wallet and my
keys. I was antisocial and agoraphobic as I felt that
strangers stared at me all of the time. Like God
marked me with a blue halo or something. I had a
gazillion back up plans: what if I cannot go to the
grocery store because there is traffic? what if I
cannot go down this street on my way to work? what if
it snows tomorrow and I cannot leave the house? what
if I don't have milk at home? I had a plan for each
of these things, and a plan in case the back up plan
went bad. My mind was obsessed with certainty,
predictability, precision, accuracy, perfection.
It is a daily struggle not be overwhelmed with the
details of life. To learn what thoughts are rational
and irrational, to accept that there are some things in
the world (many things, actually) that I can not
control. That I will never control. I have learned
to accept that medication and therapy make me a
stronger, better person, better wife, better daughter.
I am still learning to trust myself, trust my
instinct, trust that if handed a situation (like what
to do when there is not milk for cereal) I can
successfully deal with it on the fly. Without a plan.
I wish that some people would understand that the
human condition is diverse and robust. I wish that
people would not make fun of psychiatric medications
and I wish that people would understand that I cannot
"just stop", despite my best efforts. I wish that I
would be bored, that I could relax, that I could put
aside the lists and the thoughts and the plans and
just sit on my front lawn and watch the world go by.
Or to pick up a book at 2 PM on Saturday afternoon and
just read... read until my eyes hurt!
Thanks for listening, World. Deep down inside I know
that I am not so strange after all.
-Denice
