Write a sentence. Delete it. Write a sentence. Delete it. Why isn’t it good enough? What am I missing? Maybe I need a break – go downstairs, get a drink. Turn the light off, check the door’s locked. Check it again. Sit down to try and write again, delete it. Try again.
The constant cycle that occupied my mind, every second of every day.
I have had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) my whole life, even if I refused to admit it. I had to have two of all my stationery, had to always check I locked the door twice, had to submit my academic work at an even time. I can trace habits and routines from my OCD into every aspect of my life since I was a little girl.
I put an enormous amount of pressure on myself to hide and ignore my compulsive routines, especially when I went into higher education, naively thinking and praying that one day my OCD would go away on its own.
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