I call it the OCD battle because the war is never won. OCD is a series of battles – or lessons, really. Because at the end of the day, the more you fight it, the more it wins.
Such was the truth the day I realized my own daughter had OCD. It was a hard day, one I’m still not sure I’ll ever get over. There’s nothing like spending your life fighting an inner demon only to find out that you inadvertently passed it on to your own offspring. Why did I have children again? Why didn’t I consider that this might happen?
My father has it. My sister has it. My grandma has it. I suppose it should’ve been a given.
But my daughter has so much more than any of us had. More options, more support, more information. I’m not even sure ERP (Exposure-Response Prevention) was even a thing when I found out I had OCD.
So this is it. Our journey. Me and my daughter, fighting this awful thing together. I can only hope she’s braver than I was. Because it truly does feel like you are the hero in your favorite novel, fighting against the strongest, scariest villain when OCD rears its ugly head. It takes a lot of courage to face it. Even more bravery to fully ignore it.
I’m sure we’re not the only ones to walk this path. If you find yourself in our shoes, or perhaps your a parent who does not have OCD, but had a child with OCD, I hope this helps. It’s not easy and, frankly, I think it’s one of the hardest mental illnesses for the general population to understand. So let’s get this out there. Let’s talk about it. Let’s survive it together.
Because god knows, none of us can do it alone.
My Daughter, Me, and OCD 