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My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder has been well managed via medication and ERP (Exposure Ritual Prevention) therapy for quite some time now. It feels like it has been probably a year since I have had a serious issue. During this period my mind has not changed how it operates, the intrusive thoughts and draw to compulsions never left, but they did become much quieter. I was not taking this for granted. I expressed to some how happy I had been with the most stable mental health period of my life. I also expressed fear of when it would return.

In the last couple weeks I have been experiencing odd brain shocks. They are not greatly understood, but are linked to withdrawal from SSRI's. I have missed no medications, so I cannot understand where they are coming from, but they are here. Not excessively, but if you have experienced them, a little is more than enough. I have noticed an increasing pull towards compulsions, and the arguments are already beginning in my mind. Is the front door locked? It is. I checked it maybe a minute ago. I should check it again though. Huh, I remember this feeling. I'll ignore it, and power through. I don't wanna worry about it though, I'll just satisfy the loop, and be done with it. As I feel compelled to check it again, to make it three, the internal dialogue begins. "Stop. You know it is locked. You have the information." "It won't hurt anything to check once more." "No, that reinforces the compulsion. It will get worse if you humor it, you know this, and it will not scratch the itch." "It'll take half a second, then I can go sleep without being restless and just getting out of bed and checking it in half an hour to make the anxiety stop."

"Even if that does close the loop tonight, it will strongly reinforce it in your mind. It will become what is required to feel okay. Then, in short order, it will not be enough. Nothing is

ever enough. It doesn't want you satisfied, it wants you to obey." "All good points. But I'm stressed today, I don't have room to white knuckle through this right now." "You think you don't have time for it now. How much time will be lost when you start getting stuck in loops? One sleepless night is a fair trade considering the cost you'll pay." "I've been good for a long time... It'll be fine. Just. Check it. Go to bed. Stop debating yourself. I'm making too big of a deal of all this." The intrusive thoughts never left, but now they are much louder. Deafening at times. I catch myself drifting off when people are talking to me because I need to count or repeat things in my head. I want to pay attention. I want to be present. But I keep repeating scripted phrases in my head. And counting. What am I even counting? What am I counting to? I can restart and it effects nothing in me or my anxiety. It just wants me counting. To what end? Then there are the images. The flashes of unpleasant things that cause me to physically recoil and shake my head. People notice it. You look crazy, you know. Forcing disorientation to clear images from your head, as if it can't be put back.

Desperation to stay busy. Don't let it have room. Keep audio playing. Keep something visual playing. Keep working with your hands on something. Anything. Write about if you have to. Just don't let it have room. Oh look. It's becoming what you write, isn't it? Perhaps it is cognitive offloading. Trying to put it all down somewhere, and leave it there. Or, knowing that isn't possible, leaving a message in a bottle for my future self. Look. We saw when it was reborn. We acknowledged and recorded it. Or, perhaps for a healthy version of me later that thinks I'm doing well and no longer need medication.

That's the problem with medication. When it works well, you start to believe you no longer need it. When it works poorly, you believe it is pointless. Maintaining adherence is difficult. Lapse in taking the medication is far more costly, however. Quickly, my mind begins to revert to the thinking patterns that prevented me from taking it in the first place. It will change me. It's a trick. I won't be able to think clearly, fix things, or make good art. We can't let it turn us into a robot!

I'm not doing any of it for myself anymore, though. Am I? My wife and children. I want to be better for them. I may not know if the pills turn me into something else truly or not, but I do know clearly that the version of me that lets OCD run rampant is not good for anyone. I don't want my children to see or understand what I fight. Not because I want them to have some unrealistic idea of their father. The world is just so full of ugly and unpleasant things. I can't shelter them from life, but surely they don't need to see all of the unpleasant things in life. Let me do them a kindness and spare them having to worry about me, if I can. Take the pills. Become a robot, if that is what will happen. Do your duty to place them before yourself.

It is hard not to hide when I'm unhealthy. I fear my thoughts. I fear others seeing the manifestations of my mental struggles. Am I masking nearly as much as I hope I am? Probably not. I think I only cave to compulsion when no one is looking, but how attentive am I really to if others are observing when I'm obsessed with something? I fear others will try to help me. Those who care will want to alleviate my pain, and try. That scares me because the only outcome is them finding out they can't help me. Don't tell me it is irrational. I know that. It's a large part of the internal distress, knowing it is irrational, but failing to win, resenting yourself. It is a war we fight alone.

And I will keep fighting. ... I just wish the reprieve wasn't ending.