I know when my OCD is severe when my heart is heavy from depression and frustration. When I feel that I cannot move or even think enmeshed and immobilised by my OCD, imprisoned by obsessive thinking, exhausted by compulsive behaviours. When I cannot focus or organize anything not even the washing or a trip out I know that I need help. I know that I have serious problems when I cannot make any decision and knowing that whatever I decide will always be wrong anyway. I know that I need help when my blouse is creased because it is simply too difficult to iron because of overwhelming depression and OCD; all that matters is that the blouse is clean. I know that my life has taken a turn for the worse when the joys of reading gradually diminishes as once again my superstitious obsession with a certain number inhibits my ability to enjoy this simple pastime. I have conquered this superstitious obsession many times and have won, but yet it returns again and again and I have grown weary with the fight, the energy and the enthusiasm drained away by the passing of so many years as this little bit of escape is taken away from me yet again and I am left with no respite.

I know that I need help when the realization once again dawns and I am reminded of my misery and my OCD enslaved life: when once more there is no joy in my heart, not even when standing on a deserted beach with the waves pounding and a clear blue sky and find it does nothing to lift my spirits. I know that once again I am not coping with OCD and my life when I dread meeting a friend, too depressed and weary of trying to appear normal, exhausted after trying to find something to wear that is OCD clean. Tired of having to ask my husband to take me, too afraid to be out alone, too nervous of getting on a bus: what if someone gets on with a dog? What if I get a headache? What if I get contaminated? What if! What if! What if! Over and over always some fear or another, like the heads of the hydra, once one fear is cut off others grow to take its place. Finally its easier to stay at home except that my mind is than left open for the incursion of still more obsessive thoughts fueling the crippling compulsions that are eating away at my life, destroying my ability to function even on a basic level.

I am aware that my ability to cope is quickly diminishing when telephoning for an appointment or to make an enquiry is so stressful that time and time again I postpone and procrastinate, fearful of not being able to cope with this simple task. My mind a whirl of confusion barely able to listen to what the other person is saying, and than not comprehending or articulating, becoming tongue tied and feeling foolish. I recognise after months of deterioration that I am now so ill, so caught in the complex web of OCD that after all these years I cannot define anymore where one obsession ends and another begins. I know I have reached a new high of severity when I can no longer make a list of my OCD symptoms to hand to a mental health worker because the obsessions and compulsions have totally encapsulated my life and absorbed every aspect of my existence that my ability to categorise, for instance, a contamination obsession from a superstitious obsession from a checking obsession and so on is no longer possible, as there now seems little difference anymore. All appear to have become interwoven and so entangled that at times I cannot separate the different types of obsessions and compulsions and indeed I cannot make any distinction from an OCD thought and a normal one. What is a normal thought? After so long I really have no idea, my life, my very being has gone, absorbed by OCD. What of the real me remains? I have fought it and won and than lost again and again, now I cannot find the strength. Now no one understands my inability to define my condition and to separate and categorise or even to distinguish the OCD from normal thinking and behaving. Therefore I receive no help and I remain incapable of untangling the web of misery, my OCD.