When I was around 12, my mom was involved in a bad car accident. She was in the passenger seat without her seatbelt clicked in when they hit a tree.
The impact was severe, and the doctors were unsure if she would survive. Her liver was torn up.
Only my father (from whom she had divorced prior to the accident) was allowed to visit her. The doctors didn’t want my grandparents and me to see her in the state she was in.
I prayed for her. I was helpless. I recited the only prayers I knew.
When I was younger, my grandmother taught me how to pray. Over time, I had forgotten the exact wording and had altered the prayers in my own way, starting at a very young age. I would pray for anything and everything.
When my parents fought, I prayed for my father to leave or for something bad to happen to him (not the most noble thoughts). I didn’t want him to harm my mother. I prayed for our safety, for circumstances to change, for events to unfold differently.
When things didn’t go according to plan, I would pray and pray…
Let me tell you that my prayers weren’t the traditional kind heard in church or recited by religious individuals. Rather, I would express my desires and wishes for things to occur or not to occur.
This habit has stuck with me to this day. Praying has become one of the most gripping aspects of my OCD. It consumes me constantly, 24/7.
Due to my past experiences—the accident and my abusive father—prayers have become deeply ingrained within me.
I fear for the lives of my loved ones to an overwhelming extent. It cripples me. I try to resist it, to acknowledge that I can’t control the events of life.
Most of the time, we have no power over what happens. How can I protect someone when they’re driving and I’m not in the car with them? What can I do when someone undergoes surgery or travels by plane? It’s beyond my control.
Now, I have my own family—my girlfriend and my son. I love being with them, and I feel deeply attached to them.
When my girlfriend was pregnant, my OCD episodes intensified greatly. It became almost unbearable. In fact, I’m not sure how I managed to survive that period.
Every doctor’s visit to check on the baby’s health became an ordeal of OCD-driven compulsions—prayers, specific breathing patterns where every inhalation meant giving life, and every exhalation meant taking it away. So, while looking at my pregnant girlfriend, I was only allowed to inhale and had to avert my gaze when exhaling.
This particular compulsion has stayed with me throughout my life. When I look at people I care about, I must inhale. As soon as I exhale, I need to look away, fearing that something bad might happen to them.
I thought that once my son was born, these episodes would become less intrusive. However, I was mistaken.
I still fear for the lives of my loved ones, and my OCD episodes persist, sometimes almost as intense as when my girlfriend was pregnant.
It’s a constant battle, a struggle that drains me of energy.
I don’t want my son to witness me behaving like a madman, performing all these compulsions.
He observes my behavior very closely, and I’m afraid he might start imitating my actions. He’s now over a year old and absorbs so much from his surroundings.
This is the main reason why I must fight my OCD and strive to overcome or manage it whenever I’m with my family.
I don’t want to cause any harm to my family. I don’t want my son to “catch” my behavior and suffer from it, as I do.
There’s a possibility that he already exhibits some of my “impulses” and compulsions, as we’re uncertain whether OCD is hereditary or not. Some scientific theories suggest that OCD has a genetic component, but I hope it’s not the case.
I must, at the very least, make an effort not to foster OCD in him.
I want to show him a path to inner calmness and happiness, to demonstrate that no problem is insurmountable. It’s just a thought, and thoughts can be changed.
But how can I act indifferent when I can’t control or eliminate my OCD?
The monkey on my back relentlessly shouts, pinches, scratches, and controls me.
That monkey weighs me down, doing everything it can to hold me back. I try to shake it off. I fight it every day, every hour, every minute. It’s exhausting. But I’m determined to rid myself of it.
Crazy Thoughts about Loved Ones
I hate the intrusive thoughts that plague my mind concerning my family.
These thoughts are crazy and terrifying, involving scenarios I never want to imagine or experience.
I fear for their safety, and my mind conjures up the worst possible outcomes. It’s as if my mind is playing a cruel game, presenting me with images and thoughts that go against everything I hold dear.
I can’t control these thoughts, but I can control my response to them. I love my family and want them to be happy. But how can I make someone else happy when I’m not?
I remind myself that they are just thoughts, products of my anxious mind. They don’t reflect reality or the love and care I have for my family.
I try to counter these intrusive thoughts with positive ones. I focus on the happy moments we share, the laughter, and the love. I remind myself of the countless times my fears were proven wrong and everything turned out fine.
It’s important for me to remember that having these thoughts doesn’t make me a bad person or a bad parent. OCD is an illness, and these intrusive thoughts are just a symptom of that illness. I’m doing my best to navigate through it and provide a loving and supportive environment for my family.
I’m looking for a way out through meditation and trying to realize that I’m just temporarily having disgusting and crazy thoughts, and I need to change my thought processing. I need to realize that it’s just fear. I don’t have to give fear all the power.
These thoughts will be the toughest to shatter because they are about my closest ones.
However, I am increasingly realizing that it’s about taming the fear of “what if.” What if it’s true? What if it could really happen? Coping with the fear stemming from these questions is crucial. I need to realize that “what ifs” are not helpful.
Wouldn’t it be better to aim for greatness and happiness rather than sadness and fear? The answer seems obvious. So why do we always set our direction toward sadness or fear with our OCD? I don’t know why we think in different patterns when it comes to OCD.
This is something to think about because if there’s a way to break the fear, I believe we can break free from OCD.
Fear is the most powerful notion that makes us obey OCD. If there were no fear, OCD would not be powerful.
That’s what I’m going to do – when my OCD strikes, I will recognize that it’s the fear behind the curtains making me obey. Once I acknowledge the fear, I will understand that there is nothing to be afraid of. OCD becomes powerless.
Try it for yourself. Let me know.
Please consider supporting me at “Buy Me a Coffee” or directly through the Stripe Transaction Portal if you can. You do not have to register with any of the services. Every penny counts. I write this blog in my spare time, but with your help, I’d love to have serious conversations with experts who deal with OCD and respond to you with the knowledge and stories I’d gather.
I consider this blog a calling. I never realized that before. But now I know what my calling is, and I want to continue to improve and help us better manage our OCD. I know how limiting OCD is. I’ve lived with it for more than 24 years. It’s time to learn as much as we can about this disorder to not only cope with it, but to actually get better.
If you help me by donating or becoming a member, my path with this blog can change so I can focus more on what really matters. Plus, you’ll be part of a supportive community of people who understand what you’re going through and want to help you.
Thanks for thinking about donating. It means a lot to me!