In May of 2021, I found myself still in a state of up and down distress due to my disorder despite many years of therapy and hard work by me and my parents to find lasting relief and solutions. I had been diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder when I was in 6th grade (approximately 2010-11) and had struggled for much of my later childhood and early adulthood with acute social anxiety, an overwhelming preoccupation with perfect symmetry and organization, and an overall deep, unsettling feeling of discomfort with who I was.These realities made it difficult for me to participate in school with other students, gain and sustain prolonged periods of work, and live the full life I wanted. My parents made the decision to seek help for me upon my diagnosis and I began weekly sessions over the course of several years with a therapist that aided me in making notable progress in key areas of my life, mainly socially and addressing my organizational compulsivity. Treating the symptoms gave me hope that I was on the right path, but I did not realize how vital it is to understand where the symptoms come from.

When in the summer of 2019 I could not stop thinking about the fate of family, friends, and strangers and why tragedies happen, I admitted myself to St. Mary’s Medical Center in West Palm Beach, FL. I was having what I believed to be a crisis of faith. This was the start of what became a compounding problem for me. With the onset of the coronavirus pandemic, my mind became bombarded with another kind of obsession. No longer was my main concern the neatness of my belongings but the vividness and fear that came with intrusive thoughts of violence towards myself and others. I did not know why I was thinking these things or what this said about me. Every day became a battle in my mind of wrestling and ruminating with my thoughts and worrying I might act upon them. Life became exhausting, and my daily functioning severely diminished. I was crippled by fear and doubt.