“People came up to me and actually asked if you were sick,” Regina said almost accusingly.         “I don’t care what those people think,” I lied.         “Well you should!” She continued, now more softened. “You don’t look healthy. People are just concerned.”         “Gossip isn’t concern,” I retorted. “Look, I had absolutely no desire to attend that thing anyway and only did attend to support you because you hinted, strongly, that it was important to you. I was still tired from my trip, I didn’t want to be there, and I didn’t feel like seeing anyone or being social. All that probably came through....continue reading

        Cracks were starting to show. My one-time preoccupation with looking good in public had slowly given way to feeling safe. This meant that my ample collection of properly starched dress shirts, worn among clean-lined, tailored suits had given way to a select few dress shirts that hadn’t been “tainted” through an unwanted encounter. And I was now alternating among two suits that had long lost their crisp form. The suits had grown frumpy and the wrinkles needed serious professional ironing, instead of just smoothing out with a wet hand, which is what I had been doing for a while now. At this stage most of my dress clothes had been thrown out because they had....continue reading

        Well, one day at work it got to be too much. Actually, that’s how I felt every day at work, but this day was markedly different. This day would change the routine. I don’t exactly remember why I felt that way or what led me to write an email to myself that was my most desperate cry for help yet. I remember feeling like I was at rock-bottom that day. I had recently gotten into huge fights with two of my best friends who had done the most to try and see me through my condition, Aliza and Kelcy. I had lashed out at these two best friends by writing a vicious email to each of them that essentially let them know I was literally writing them out of my life for....continue reading

       That day it was bad. Yet amidst the chaotic hurricane swirling around me, I just stopped. My numbness was like the calm eye of a storm. I don’t know how much actual time I just sat there as profanities, some from my boss, others internal, rained down on me because all I was trying to grasp onto was that this was my reality now – the harsh and soul-draining work environment, the OCD that was isolating me further from society and causing me to fail at work, at friendships, with family, and at life. This failure on a grand scale actually was my life now. The utter sadness of it all kept me very still. I felt silent and empty. I couldn’t believe....continue reading

        “My car’s ready to be picked up. I need you drive me to the body shop,” Ashley said. It was a small request which under normal circumstances I would have been happy to oblige, but this time I was panic-stricken. I started mentally scrambling and talking at the same time. “Well I can just have one of the trainees drive you,” I said. “I don’t think I should leave my desk. And my car is a mess. I will call the mailroom and get one of the trainees up here.”         ”No. I want you to take me. In your car,” said Ashley.         “Ash, my car is really messy right now. There’s junk everywhere! My passenger side has my workout....continue reading

        Monday, September 18. This was my first day at McLean Hospital, a preeminent psychiatric facility. It took about six years for me to get here. About six years back was when my OCD started, or at least when it took a turn toward severity. For six years I “lived” a double life. One life spent functioning as normally as possible, professionally and in society. The other life spent in perpetual anxiety and avoidance as an OCD sufferer. I think one of the reasons it took me so long to seek the kind of professional attention that requires checking into and residing in a psychiatric facility is that mental illness isn’t as tangible as a physical ailment. For....continue reading