The True Anguish of OCD and Anxiety Disorders

Hello, my name is Dylan. I suffer from Obsessive-compulsive Disorder and several anxiety disorders. I have also been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder and Somatoform Disorder. Mental illness is a very misunderstood issue. Many people choose to dismiss it because they do not believe it is as serious as a physical ailment. However, that could not be further from the truth. Suffering from mental illness is the most painful experience I’ve ever had in my life.

I was diagnosed with OCD and anxiety at the age of eight. Fortunately, it was not too big of a problem at the time of my initial diagnosis. I was very selective of the food I ate, I washed my hands more than most kids my age and I was hyper-aware of the cleanliness and hygiene of those around me. Distressing, yes, but it was nothing compared to what I would soon experience.

When I was 18 I began experiencing a number of gastrointestinal symptoms. My symptoms were indicative of peptic ulcer disease. However, after consulting a gastroenterologist and undergoing several medical tests–organic disease was ultimately ruled out. At one point, cancer was a potential diagnosis. Thankfully that was not the case. My doctor told me that my symptoms could only be attributed to stress and anxiety. At least I had a diagnosis. This gave me peace of mind, or so I thought.

I continued to struggle with a number of physical symptoms and the occasional panic attack. I was coping on my own as best as I could. I believed that I was finally getting over my anxiety by late September – October 2013. However, one thing would change all of that in an instant. I should preface this next part by saying I have a severe phobia of vomiting.

On October 31, 2013–I caught the norovirus. It may not seem like a big deal to most people, but to me it was the worst possible thing that could have happened. It broke me. Thankfully I never actually vomited while I was ill with the norovirus but the constant terror and worry about it pushed me over the edge. Every day after my recovery I worried about catching the norovirus… every day. I was convinced each and every day that I was ill with the same thing. I struggled with constant abdominal discomfort and diarrhea. But my symptoms were never due to a physical illness, never due to the dreaded norovirus. They were a result of anxiety.

Every day I was consumed with constant worry, terror and apprehension. I worried about the exact same thing for months. The fact that I knew my thoughts were irrational made no difference. It did not make me feel any better and it certainly didn’t stop the ruminative worry. I became disabled by the anxiety. I could not attend school, I couldn’t work, I couldn’t leave my house, I couldn’t even take my girlfriend out. The anxiety broke me. There were days where I simply sat down and thought about how much my life had fallen apart and all I could do was watch it happen.

I saw my first psychiatrist in April 2014. I was prescribed a daily medication and another as needed. For the first time in months I had renewed hope. Unfortunately it didn’t last long. The first day of taking medication was the worst I have physically felt in my life. I experienced the worst panic attack of my life. Within hours of taking it, I began experiencing chills. Naturally this caused anxiety and soon my mouth went dry, my breathing became labored and rapid, my stomach was churning and I was positive that disaster was imminent. But nothing happened. I continued the two medications with little benefit.

In May 2014 my life would take an unexpected turn. I broke up with my girlfriend and at the time she was really the only friend I had. I had a terrible falling out with my friends from high school and so I was left alone. I was left alone with my worry and anxiety. I felt as if I did not belong in this world. I was alone and in pain. But I refused to tell anyone. I chose to let my anxiety wear me down until I was sufficiently depressed about what had become of me. I had nothing. I lost my friends, I lost my girlfriend and I had my life stolen from me. All the while I harbored a tremendous amount of guilt for making my family deal with me in my condition. I was not living. I wanted to die. I cannot tell you what it’s like to be suicidal, but I can tell you that at that point in time, I truly felt it was my best option. I was suffering mentally and physically. My psychiatrist did not seem to care at all and I truly wanted to end it all.

In June 2014 I attempted parasuicide. I wanted to die, but the one thing I wanted more was for everybody to finally understand what I was going through. I needed help. I got what I wanted and more. In July 2014 I received my miracle. After seeing a new psychiatrist and starting therapy–I made a seemingly spontaneous recovery. I still struggled with occasional anxiety and panic, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. When I didn’t feel well or my stomach bothered me, I told myself I was anxious and it would eventually pass. I had a different attitude. But most importantly, I had hope. The summer of 2014 is the happiest I can remember being in the past few years. For the remainder of 2014 I did fairly well as far as my OCD and anxiety went. Unfortunately, once again this didn’t last long.

During the middle of 2015 my excessive worry about vomiting and getting sick returned. I managed it as best as I could, but once again I became crippled by my OCD and anxiety during the winter of 2015. I was back in the same place. I worried about getting sick every day. Once the obsession or thought was in my head, I couldn’t stop it. No matter how irrational I knew it was. It was disheartening to say the least. Why did this happen to me? For such a long time I beat myself up because I felt as if I failed to fully recover. But I soon realized that I hadn’t really addressed the issue. I needed intensive therapy.

It is now 2016 and I continue to struggle daily with my OCD and anxiety. On good days I can ignore it, but on bad days, it completely cripples me. I am unable to live my life the way I want to. I am not in control of my life. I cannot fully explain what it’s like to live with chronic anxiety and OCD. I worry about getting sick every day, and I hate it. I want it to stop. I do everything I can. I am currently seeking treatment from a therapist trained in exposure and response prevention therapy. The trouble is finding one that will take me.

The worst part is that my anxiety and OCD does not affect only me. It affects my relationships. It affects my family. I carry an enormous amount of guilt and shame for what I put them through. I hate myself for it. I wish that treating mental illness was as easy as “stop worrying” or “calm down” but it’s not. I am still seeking the proper treatment as I believe I would benefit more from psychological intervention than pharmacological treatment. I wanted to share my story because there is still not enough awareness about mental illness in the world today. I want everybody to know how truly demoralizing it really is.