OCD appears in early childhood but it can appear at any time. I suffered from OCD from the age of 7 to 19. It took 12 years of my life and it controlled my every thought. I considered that as each year passed I would not get better but worse because my OCD kept progressing. I developed OCD at the young age of 6 or 7 years old. I recall that the disorder progressed slowly. It wasn't evident that I had a problem until my teen years.
Along with OCD I developed social anxiety which is common for OCD sufferers. I recall that at the age of 7, I hated when people would touch any of my toys or clothes. I didn't know why I felt that way but I knew it wasn't normal. In school, I remember constantly erasing my work because I didn't feel that my handwriting was perfect. I recall that while at school, I would have a hard time concentrating because my thoughts were consumed with intrusive thoughts. If I heard someone sneeze near me or across the room, I remember obsessing over whether the droplets of the germs would reach me and what would happen if I inhaled someone else's germs.
By middle school, my family knew something wasn't right because my OCD had progressed. I wouldn't let anyone in my room for fear of their germs, I would wash my clothes and when I felt they weren't washed good enough I repeated the wash until it was right. I constantly washed my hands and would count how many times I had washed. Sometimes using hot water to kill the germs. I knew that what I felt and did was completely irrational but I couldn't stop it. I couldn't hug or kiss my family or even shake hands with people for fear of coming in contact with germs. On the rare instances that I would have to shake someone's hand or hug someone, my obsessive thoughts emerged and the need to wash my clothes and hands was there.
I would find a way to leave so I could tend to my obsessive thoughts. I felt that something bad would happen if I didn't do the compulsions. I involved my family in my daily rituals. They would open doors for me because I couldn't touch the doorknobs. They performed many of the tasks that I couldn't do. They were confused with my behavior and didn't know what to do. I tried to hide my OCD from everyone but it was becoming evident as my OCD progressed that I couldn't hide it. My family wanted me to get help because they saw that I was missing out on life.
I was in denial with my OCD, but deep down I knew that I had it. My family urged me to go to a doctor but I refused. They couldn't force me, so they left it at that. By middle school, my obsessive thoughts were centered around germs and illness. My hand washing, and disinfecting rituals had gotten worse. By 7 th grade, no one could go in my room except my mom. I couldn't explain it and still cant explain why. If someone other than my mom entered my room, I would try to act like nothing was wrong but deep down I knew that I wanted them out so that I could disinfect my room. I felt bad for feeling the way that I did but I couldn't help it. I was unable to sit in our living room sofa or dining room table because I felt that anyplace that wasn't my room was filled with germs. If I did sit on the sofa or table, I would shower afterwards.
This was all in my mind though because I knew that it was irrational. I knew that you can't really disinfect everything but it was more for the purpose of calming my obsessive thoughts. I felt like I had no control in my life and the only way I could control my life was through my OCD. In reality, I was being controlled by my mind. Often I was saddened because I knew that I was missing out on life and not doing normal stuff that kids my age would do. I couldn't do those things because of my OCD. But at the same time I couldn't imagine not going through one of my rituals or compulsions. By high school, I spent hours rearranging stuff in my room and rarely went out.
When I went out I had anxiety and my obsessive thoughts continued. By this time, I believed that my OCD would just get worse over the years to come and that eventually the little stuff that I could do then, would become stuff that I couldn't do. I ultimately believed that my OCD would progress and I would never have a normal life that didn't involve OCD.
