When I’m in the peak of an OCD episode, it’s hard to remember the good days.

I think on some level I always knew it was going to be like this for me. Life, that is.

In general I had a good childhood, but I believe one incident at the age of 4 set me on this mental health journey. I don’t want to write about it or talk about it (I’ve done enough of that in therapy) but I just wanted to make readers aware that for me there was a trigger.

I was diagnosed with OCD about 6 months ago, but I believe I’ve had it since I was a kid. I’ve always been obsessive, but as I’ve gotten older the intrusive thoughts have become louder and louder, making it increasingly difficult for me to ignore them. I’ve been convinced that I had AIDS, that I was a paedophile, that I was gay, that everyone around me hated me/was talking about me, that I would catch a disease from passing a coughing/sneezing person in the street, that I had something wrong with my bladder, that my boyfriend didn’t love me… the list goes on and on (and on… and on and…).

It’s hard to put into words how exhausting having OCD is. It sometimes takes every ounce of energy to appear normal. A lot of the time I just want to stay at home and shut myself off from the rest of the world. But unfortunately I can’t do that, and even if I could, I shouldn’t. As most OCD sufferers know, avoidance only makes it worse. It doesn’t help either that OCD is constantly belittled by the media and celebrities, making the battle that little bit harder. As if we didn’t already doubt ourselves enough, now we have to worry about what others think.

For anyone who is experiencing any of the above, please, please make sure you get yourself some help. Go to your GP, look after yourself. It might feel like blackout darkness right now, but I promise you: you have better days ahead.

Sending you all so much love.