I picked out my outfit the night before, got new shoes and a new backpack. Everything had to be perfect. That morning my stomach hurt so much I wouldn't eat, I was barely talking to anyone.

Over the summer when I was diagnosed with OCD I had no idea what it meant. I thought my sister had given it to me like a virus. I had no clue that things such as clicking the lights obsessively to make sure nothing happened was OCD. I had no idea that when I wore socks all over my house to make sure everything stayed clean it was because of my anxiety. 

That morning my moms only request was that my siblings walk me to class. I was trying not to cry, trying not to break down in tears like I usually did but when they went to their classes I started bawling. 

And I kept worrying about my family throughout the whole day. I wished my mom would come pick me up, “One more class, one more hour.” I thought to myself. 

Every morning as soon as I got on the bus, I would start crying, and every morning my brother would sit next to me. 

“Chloe, everythings ok, don’t cry.” My brother told me. I felt bad he had to deal with this every morning. No one wants to be sitting with their little sister. 

“It’s ok, I’ll stop.” I would tell him. I stayed focused on the window watching the trees go by, and tried my hardest to make it seem like I was fine. I didn’t want to ruin his day. I tried to show my mom I was fine too. I knew she worried so I would send pictures to show her I wasn’t crying anymore. I felt like an inconvenience to everyone. 

For the next two weeks I cried outside the homeroom praying no one walked by and see me in tears talking to Zurko. During these mornings I never felt comfortable sharing my thoughts so I would just cry. I was never open to the idea of other people knowing what types of things I thought about and I worried about them becoming real.

 “These are my thoughts, and something horrible will happen if I share them.” I used to think to myself. With all these intrusive thoughts swimming through my mind, I started to have mental breakdowns. 

I knew I had to start speaking up. I needed to start sharing these things with my therapist and open up. Every time I saw her I became more comfortable. Slowly I learned how to deal with my OCD on my own, practicing what I had learned in therapy. 

It took time but I learned nothing was wrong with me. My brother stopped walking me to class after two weeks and stopped sitting with me on the bus. 

Now, I get intrusive thoughts, but I know how to control them, by creating my own system. Though I am not thrilled, I have grown with the fact this will always be a part of me.