My journey of overcoming the debilitating symptoms of my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder took a year, which is surprisingly shorter than other people's journeys. Believe me, though, I still have the symptoms, but to a lesser degree. I am now functioning to my full potential.

But before I got to the place I am now, I had to travel on a rough and rocky road. This is just one of the articles of my four season series. I would like to share my story with all of you to inspire others to share their stories. Coming out with who we truly are makes it easier to be ourselves. My ultimate goal with this article series is to inspire others to not hide and to openly be themselves.

So, here I go. This is who I truly am.

Fall 2016: My Senior Year of High School

This was it, my last year of high school.

I was so excited to get out and explore the world. College seemed so close and it was within reach with each college application that I sent out. This was my chance to make a change in the world, to become a pediatrician, to be ME.

BUT...

I didn't know how to be me.

Every day was a struggle. With the varsity tennis season and AP classes and college classes and college applications and getting my driver's license and school rankings and...

Waking up in the morning, I was assaulted by my labyrinthine thoughts. I was defenseless, breathless, paralyzed. With these assaults came more attacks. I started to have anxiety attacks.

One morning before classes, I realized that I couldn't find a folder. A simple red folder. But to me, this was a huge deal. This folder contained a paper in it applying to be a National Honor Society Vice President. The spiral of negative thoughts flooded my head: "If I don't have the folder, then I can't be a Vice President, and then I can't put it on my college application, and then I'll never get into college, and then..." I felt like I was dying and having a heart attack. To me, the world was coming to an end. Because of a red folder.

Thank goodness my best friend was there to sit me down in the bathroom, rub my back, and do breathing exercises with me. I don't know what I would have done without her that day.

Another morning, I just started crying hysterically and having an anxiety attack. Over what? Honestly, I have no idea. It just happened all of a sudden. My friend brought me to class to my teacher. My teacher then brought me to the quiet principal's office to do breathing exercises and calm down.

These anxiety attacks happened frequently and mostly happened because of nothing. It was just me. I felt so out of control and out of touch with my own body.

Something needed to happen. I couldn't go on living this way. It was not living.

Not to mention I also excessively washed my hands and had obsessive thoughts that ruminated in my head. This was nothing new to me, though. I was like this since elementary school, so I learned to deal with it. But, dealing is not enough.

I went to my mom and said, "I want to see a therapist." This is something that I wanted for years, but was too afraid of the stigma associated with it. I felt like I was "crazy." My mom, who would do anything for me, immediately agreed to do anything for me that would make me feel back in control of myself.

I needed to be back in control.

To be continued...