MY SYMPTOMS KEPT ME AWAKE AT NIGHT FOR YEARS. I SHOULD HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED SOONER
As I sit here ruminating on my bed, I'm stuck in a memory. The scenes run through my head in an endless loop. Sights and sounds of the past become tangible. The present fades into the background as I'm taken back in time, transported into my former self. I'm not very good at remembering things, even from the year prior. The memories that are closest are those that hold the most emotional significance.
Let's rewind to 2010: I'm eight years old, lying on my bed, and it's been hours since I curled up in the sheets to sleep. The culprit: OCD. My self-proclaimed "qua qua" held me captive. Every time I started to fall asleep, I remembered that I only touched my nightstand with my right hand, not my left. Or I cracked my back on one side and forgot to do the other. Everything needed to be even on both sides. I wasted so much time and energy on nonsense. I was only eight. I had so much life to live. OCD was draining it from me.
Research shows that it takes 14-17 years on average for someone to receive an OCD diagnosis. When I see the data, I see eight-year-old me, and I'm sad. Why didn't anyone help her? Why did it take so long to get answers? I thought I was going insane because my symptoms were foreign to me.
That's not fair to a little girl who was just trying to live her life. I should have learned about my anxiety and OCD much sooner—through school, a therapist, or my parents. Sure, an eight-year-old may not be able to understand OCD as well as an eighteen-year-old—when I was officially diagnosed—but I think about the "feelings" chart that was hidden in the guidance counselor's office at my elementary school. It taught kids about different types of emotions they might be feeling: sad, excited, scared, confused. Mental health education can start with something as simple as that: teaching children how to identify their emotions and accept them for what they are.
The guidance counselor's office was reserved for the special needs kids. It wasn't necessarily welcome to students. I never really got to look at that "feelings" chart other than a quick glance when delivering the guidance counselor's mail. The concept of talking through my feelings with an adult seemed taboo at the time when it should have been encouraged. You were sent to the guidance counselor's office if you got into an argument in the schoolyard, or if you sounded off to the teacher in the classroom.
There was a preconceived notion that this was where the "bad kids" went. It became a principal's office of sorts when really, it should have been a safe space for kids to visit when they want to discuss their feelings. I wonder if my school had provided greater education on mental health, I would have been diagnosed and learned how to cope with my OCD much sooner.
Recently, I ran into my high school psychologist at the hair salon. I never actually went to visit her, but I recognized her face. I spun my chair around to face her and introduced myself as a former student. "You know, we're living in a mental health crisis right now. You have a huge responsibility to help students," I said. Her face turned white.
She was speechless. "Yeah..." was all she managed to utter before she quickly shuffled out of the salon. It was as if she knew she was guilty. She knew she wasn't doing enough to help high schoolers with their mental health. It was a shame, really. I could see by the blank look in her eyes. She knew what she needed to do, and she was embarrassed it wasn't already being done.
The future of mental health is our responsibility. Our ancestors grew up in a world where anxiety and OCD weren't really discussed. It's up to us to take the reins over how mental health is portrayed in society. Without people speaking out, mental health will continue to be misunderstood. Eight-year-old girls like me will continue to suffer in silence.
As a little girl, my world was on fire yet I was too afraid to ask for help. I had to fight my way through OCD all by myself. I knew how much it was stifling me, so I eventually managed to move past my symptoms. My eight-year-old self was much smarter than I give her credit for. Nobody knew how much she was struggling, yet she kept her head high. Even though she was young, she pulled herself out without any help. She's a superhero.
I find comfort in the fact that compulsions come and go. The compulsions I once performed when I was eight I no longer even consider. Looking back at the physical compulsions now has actually helped me better come to terms with my anxiety and OCD. When I start questioning intrusive thoughts and wonder if they're real, I remember how OCD is a part of who I am, and it has been for a long time. The physical compulsions led me to better understand the mental compulsions and accept them for what they are: a disorder.
Instead of panicking, I try to be patient with myself. Finding hope in the small wins has been a huge help in getting physical compulsions under control. I recognize that progress can be subtle. It's not always visible, but that doesn't mean it's not there. I celebrate the moments when I resist compulsions. And when I fail, I pick myself up and try again. Some days are easier than others.
It's easy to catastrophize and get lost in the worst-case scenario. Racing thoughts can feel overwhelming and beyond your control. But when your heart is pounding and your brain is loud, step back and put things in perspective. It's easier said than done when you're submerged in panic, but pulling yourself out to examine your situation from the outside is a powerful tool.
Stepping outside of yourself to look at your anxiety helps you see things more clearly. Once the emotions pass, make a deliberate choice to take deep breaths and disengage from the intrusive thoughts. Recognize your behavior and set a proper coping strategy to move forward. Take a bath. Read a book. Start a workout. Choose productivity over panic.
As you're putting things in perspective, remember that a lot of the time, anxiety has less to do with you and more to do with science. Let me spell it out for you: is it that time of the month? Studies have shown that the premenstrual phase is associated with higher levels of anxiety. A spike in hormones may affect neurotransmitters in your brain such as serotonin and dopamine that regulate your mood.
Not every day is going to be perfect. It's not supposed to be. But when you find perspective, you may find that the anxiety isn't actually as scary as it felt when you were in the thick of it. You're not the only one struggling, even though it may often feel like it.
This is an excerpt from Berk's upcoming book, "Mindfire: Confessions of An Anxious Twenty-Something," coming 2025.
Carrie Berk is a 21-year-old bestselling author and just released her solo debut book, My Real-Life Rom-Com. She is also a social media influencer with nearly 4 million followers on TikTok and 1 million on Instagram.
All views expressed are the author's own.
Do you have a unique experience or personal story to share? See our Reader Submissions Guide and then email the My Turn team at [email protected].
2024-07-11T14:37:22Z dg43tfdfdgfd