Winter 2015-2016
With my family's support, I started seeing a Cognitive Behavioral therapist. For those of you who don't know what that is, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy focuses on changing thoughts and behaviors through a hands-on approach. This means that you have to challenge yourself. For me, that meant touching things that I considered ostensibly "dirty." Through this therapy, I had to change my thoughts and say to myself that I know that this object isn't actually dirty. It's not rational thinking to think that it's dirty. So, I challenged myself to touch "dirty" objects. And I did.
It wasn't always easy. Certain objects to me were terrifying to touch: the doorknobs in my house, my mom's phone, other people's hands, laptops, DVDs, pillows on the couch. You name it - I probably couldn't touch it.
But, in reality, I COULD touch it. It was my mind telling me that I couldn't. My irrational thoughts dictated my every action. I couldn't let these tyrannical thoughts control my life anymore.
These oppressive thoughts also made me into a perfectionist; I had to be the best at everything. Whether it was with academics, sports, or baking, I NEEDED to be the best. If I wasn't the best I would work to be the best. This explains why I became the valedictorian in high school. I don't think that it was because I was "naturally smart," I think it was because of grueling hard work. I worked until my fingers were sore and my mind was burnt.
On top of being exhausted, I couldn't fall asleep at night due to my racing thoughts...
Did I do well on that test? I really think I could've done better on it. If I don't get a better grade, I won't get into a good college and then I can't be a pediatrician. People probably think I'm dumb. I am dumb. I don't know anything.
I was overworked and overtired. My self-confidence was deteriorating. And that's why therapy helped me immensely. It built me up to show me who I truly was. I was strong, intelligent, and beautiful. I couldn't see that myself until I went to a therapist to reveal to me that I was more than my disorder. With every little victory of touching a "dirty" object or falling asleep at a normal time, I felt more in control of myself.
I went to the therapist every week. Because of the stigma associated with mental health, I didn't tell many of my friends that I saw a therapist. The excuses that I made were numerous...
Oh, I'm sorry I can't go to Starbucks! I have a dentist appointment.
I really wish I could go to the club meeting, but I have a doctor's appointment. Just a check-up!
Aw, maybe we can get ice cream another time! I have a thing to go to for my family. So annoying, I know.
Looking back on it now, I should've just told my friends the truth. They all know now and they don't think any different of me. I want to encourage everyone to not hide mental disorders. It's not shameful to have. Some people have broken legs, and some people have OCD. To me, it's the same thing and should be treated the same way.
