Who knew I had OCD? I joked about it from time to time in relating to my perfectionistic traits and high expectations but didn’t really know what OCD entailed and that I actually have it. It is considered one of the most disabling mental health conditions to live with. I didn’t know that. Did you? Anyways this poem is about discovering I have OCD.

Invisible OCD

OCD is perfectionism and visible patterns or so that’s what I thought.
I didn’t realize that my ruminating on my worries was something I should not.
I’d replay conversations in my head repeatedly and question if I was a fool.
I worried people secretly hated me, each thought adding even more fuel.

I’d run every possible scenario through my head, planning every single communication.
Every outcome I would ponder because anxiety made me rehearse each conversation.
I needed to know every possible issue that might need my permission.
And yet often I’d be blindsided when nothing I’d preplanned came to fruition.

When things didn’t go as planned my anxiety would soar to new heights.
It’s like a million possible outcomes were always being appraised in my sight.
When I was struggling with negative thoughts when depression reared its head,
The harm variant of my OCD made me think that I was better off dead.

It would tell me that I would never get better and that my fate would always be ill.
I couldn’t shut my mind off, and the compulsions to act were impossible to chill.
I thought of self-harm and suicide like they were the only things to calm my mind.
I couldn’t think of anything else, the rumination made me very blind.

As a child I’d lay in bed with panic attacks so bad that I would hurl.
For years I’d try to force myself to sleep before my thoughts could swirl.
Eventually I created patterns in my mind to talk me out of the attacks.
It was my way of taking control of my mind, a complicated counteract.

When my anxiety builds to unmanageable amounts I reach out for help.
Obsessively I seek out reassurance, doubting my ability to help myself.
I search through tons of information trying to find every possible cure.
Thinking that I all need is the right information to help me to endure.

Well now I have the information I sought, I’ve always known I have anxiety,
But knowing I have OCD helps me understand why I never fit into society.
At least within my mind, I never felt I belonged within this world.
But having the right diagnosis helps me know why different therapies seldom worked.

Yes, I have other mental illnesses so it’s drastically more complicated.
But some of the things I’d do to reassure myself made me more frustrated.
My brain would etch neural pathways in my mind, grooves with compulsions galore.
But now that I know I have OCD, new pathways I can explore.

So on to new beginnings and learning new ways to be.
OCD will no longer control my mind, new patterns I will see.
No more doubt and rehearsing every single possible issue.
I’m going to work on rebuilding myself right down to every tissue.

I don’t have every answer, but the first step is really the key.
The first step is knowing which demons are trying to slay me.
Now that I know what I’m dealing with, I’m ready to fly to new places.
Each day is a new story, and I’m the one who writes the pages.

© Stephanie Blomquist 2025