Anonymous

Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash

If you’re reading this, you don’t have to be stuck where you are.

Growing up, I went to a very small school. As someone with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), this was problematic for me. Everyone knew everyone. I couldn’t hide who I was, a child who couldn't understand why he never seemed to fit in, because if even one person found out, the entire grade– my entire world– would know. And, unsurprisingly, they did find out. I became that kid. The “weird” kid. The kid who you could easily blame for any wrongdoings, because the teachers had found out too– and admonishing the different boy required less effort than condemning the basketball star with a mom on the PTA. 

There was nothing I could do but lean into my role. I decided to become a firecracker– the spontaneous one. OCD is not defined by perfectionism. It’s not just about wanting to color code pens or arrange a bookshelf in a certain way. Such symptoms appear for many people, but they are only part of a much larger set of manifestations. Upon doing what I thought was “accepting” my role, I stopped trying to stuff down my intrusive thoughts and started speaking my mind at all times– even when inappropriate. I showed my obsessions to my classmates, removing my filter entirely. With what I thought would be freedom, however, I instead found a cold sense of numbness. I didn’t want to be defined by my condition, but by the time I realized what was happening to me, it was too late. I was trapped in my role and finished middle school feeling unhappy with who I had become.

I thought that high school would bring a clean slate for me. Instead, I watched helplessly as quiet– and eventually loud– rumors began to spread about me. While I had started the school year off strong, learning to better manage my intrusive thoughts, I quickly began to slip back into my numb role as the firecracker. In high school, it became a defense mechanism for me. If others wouldn’t take me seriously, then why should I bother showing them respect? I did not engage in delicate dances of gossip or people-pleasing. I spoke my mind once again, making fun of everyone and everything, digging myself deeper and deeper into what I thought my role was supposed to be. 

Even after classmates from freshman year apologized for what they did, it was too late to change who I had become among my peers. Nearly four years later, as a senior, my place within my grade became unbearable. I began to miss school because I was simply so exhausted from playing the apathetic class clown, the forced sense of carelessness having become draining in its own right. When I finally made it to graduation, I began to tear up for the first time in nearly five years. It was, however, a happy moment. One which proved to me that the numbness was beginning to become undone– and that there was hope for my future.

The summer before freshman year, I thought a lot about the person I wanted to be in college. I couldn’t try to suppress my OCD entirely– whether I liked it or not, it had become a fundamental part of who I was. Nevertheless, I knew that I could temper it better by trying to become an active listener and careful, empathetic speaker. Having experienced the first couple of months of college, I am pleased with where I am in my journey to manage the chaotic thoughts that swirl in my mind. I have found friends who accept and love me for who I am and have found a strong sense of belonging among my fellow Wolverines. I’m no longer a firecracker. I’m no longer an apathetic class clown. I can finally be me.

If you’re reading this, you don’t have to be stuck where you are.

Anonymous, University of Michigan

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