by Ashley Thompson

Created on: July 16, 2008   Last Updated: December 30, 2011

"What if?". This question plagued my mind for the first 20 years of my life. This simple question ruled my existence almost exclusively. Shear terror would explode in my mind when a ridiculous obsession would present itself so subtly out of nowhere.

As a child, a frequent obsession revolved around heaven and hell. Would I be tossed into the depths of a lake of fire? I remember the need to pray for hours before bed for forgiveness of my horrible sins such as thinking bad thoughts, accidentally overhearing my older brother's rock music, or the most sinful action of incidentally blurting out "I Swear".

As an older child through my early teen years, the obsessions frequently revolved around cancer.

I had memorized the Surgeon General warnings from numerous labels posted on containers such as artificial sweeteners. I could advise family of numerous carcinogenic products and often warn them continuously of the risks involved.

As a young adult, my obsession turned to fearing HIV and AIDS. This started after a trip to the dentist. I became convinced that the tools were not sterilized. In an attempt to relieve my state of panic, I asked my mother to telephone the dental office and question their sterilization procedures. My family doctor was finally able to convince me that I did not have HIV nor was I considered at risk. A negative test gave me a small dose of relief.

After my first child was born, the fear of HIV seemed obnoxious. However, it became replaced with the fear of Child Protective Services taking my child. Although my child was overly cared for and in no way abused or neglected, I lived in a constant state of terror. I began to avoid driving down the highway where CPS was located. I limited visitors because I was terrified that they would call in some false report of abuse. Chills would run down my spine at the sight of a CPS vehicle.

The only relief I could get would come by compulsively asking my family if they thought these ridiculous tragedies could actually occur. I knew they were far-fetched, I just couldn't rationalize it in my own mind. My compulsion had come in the form of non-stop asking. I needed constant reassurance, not only from family but from total strangers as well.

I finally came to the realization that something was wrong with me. I made an appointment with a private psychiatrist who diagnosed me with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I was prescribed Paxil and the obsessions began to fade with the exception of the occasional outlandish thoughts which were fleeting.

I now take the maximum dosage of Zoloft to keep my symptoms tamed. I have learned to avoid certain triggers that cause a relapse. I no longer attempt to rationalize obsessions instead I redirect my thoughts. I have also learned that a person with OCD will never be able to convince themselves that they don't have a deadly disease, that they didn't accidentally serve rotten food to guests, that they won't go to jail for a crime they didn't commit or that they aren't going to hell. It is impossible to get relief by endlessly researching the Internet or by others reassurance. I have trained myself to stop certain thoughts when they start. I have been known to yell "STOP" to myself over and over. I seldom need to use this trick anymore as modern day antidepressant medications have worked miracles for me.

The memories of wasted years wears on my mind often. Years spent in fear, in constant anxiety, and terror. Years that I would love to have back to feel carefree. It comforts me to remember that the greatest fear is of fear itself and that the majority of things we worry about never become reality.

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