My OCD Diagnosis Didn’t Mean The End Of My Life

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What up! What up! What up! What up y’all! Wherever you are in this crazy planet of ours, I hope that you have a good morning, good afternoon, good evening or good night. As always, enjoy your Sunday to the fullest and don’t let nothing or nobody fuck it up for you no matter what happens. On a drinking side of things, today marks my twentieth day without alcohol and I feel good.

On an OCD diagnosis and life note! Even though I have suffered from OCD for as far back as I can remember, I have been able to be with my wife for thirty years, helped raise my twenty-eight year old daughter, helped raise my twenty-three year old son, had numerous pets and currently have a five-year old dog, have been working for the last thirty-three years and out of those, have been working for the same employer for the last thirteen years, but most importantly, I have a life.

My point? Only because I was officially diagnosed as suffering from OCD around thirteen years ago, didn’t mean that my life came to a complete stop. I hated it, I felt sorry for myself, I was mad for a while and I asked the million dollar question… Why me? What the diagnosis did for me was, that it helped me understand and explain what was going on inside my brain during all those years of suffering. It helped me understand, that I wasn’t going to be put away. But most importantly, that there was help out there.

I know for a fact, that mental illness sucks. That there are good days, bad days and worst days. But the thing is, that you can’t  let it put you down and or dictate who you are, what you want and what you get out of life. Sometimes it sucks, trust me, sometimes it really does. But you can’t let it get you down. Wanna know why? Because you are better than that and there are people like me, who are rooting for you.

With that said! I am Audi 5000 y’all!