My story as a 31 year old tired scared woman

Hello, I wanted to share a little but of my story here as many have because I think it could be healing for me alongside therapy. I am new to my diagnosis of OCD after battling to be 'normal' for most of my adult life. When I was younger, I would tap objects in numbers of 3, but my little sister did the same thing so I thought it was just 'normal'. In school, I would refuse to eat any birthday cake at school out of fear of eating 'toxic' sugar. I also would observe kids around me and feel like I had no place being here, always feeling out-of-sorts and almost alien-like. In high school I would attach myself to the best friend and could not find balance to connect with others equally; consequently, I would find myself burning out these friends and replacing them with a new best friend.

Growing up in my household my parents weren't happy together. My mother was a workaholic and an alcoholic, as her mother was. My mother would make my father do unthinkable things and he was trapped for years, protecting us kids. Despite this, my father was emotionally absent and didn't talk much, but he cooked and cleaned and kept very busy, always sweeping the floors. My mother would yell at my dad a lot and make a scene, often involving the police. My older half sister ran away when she was 13 and never came back. To this day it feels like an imaginary story I'm making up, but my parents swept the whole situation under the rug and didn't look for her... The world just kept spinning... She never returned (10 years later she contacted me on social media but unfortunately she is dealing with her own battles with addiction). Some other things happened which I don't think I can get into but after experiencing some traumatic experiences, I found some odd behaviours starting in myself. One of most annoying behaviours was watching cars - needing to check what colour, make and model a car I heard outside my window was and needing to check every time and losing sleep. Fast forward a bit and my dad left when I was 17 leaving me with my alcoholic mother while he looked after my younger siblings, until my mother told me to leave over some arguments.

TW: Self-harm. I started drinking and smoking at 13 years old, often bringing grog to school and skulling it in the toilets to get me through a class. Self-harming started when I was around 14 years old after moving states and finding my way in school. I kept self-harming for up 10 years. I couldn't breathe, walk, or eat around people out of fear of being perceived and noticed. The body dysmorphia hit me hard at 14 and the intrusive thoughts really began to take a hold around this time. Self harm was the only thing that gave me any sense of relief from my big feelings, other than alcohol.

When I was in my early 20s I entered some pretty toxic relationships and made some terrible choices that led me to sending two men to jail for taking advantage of me. This horrible experience changed the directory of my life. I moved to a new town leaving my family and friends behind and found myself a new boyfriend. I cut my mother out of my life in my mid 20's for all the hurt she put my siblings and father through, I do not regret my decision and it was the right choice for me. My siblings followed through shortly after me, and now no one speaks to her. My anxiety at this point (20y/o) was so debilitating, often people would comment on how awkward I was and tell me I was weird. I went to the doctors one day and cried to the GP telling him something is wrong with me and I can't do this anymore. He prescribed me antidepressants and unfortunately they made me very loopy and didn't agree with me. I ended up making a YouTube channel documenting my experience because at the time, I didn't see anyone talking about this and felt this obligation to be that person. I made a tonne of videos just rambling and chatting about symptoms, often dissociating. One thing I wish I had never done was share my channel to my Facebook account. My dad stopped talking to me and withdrew from me completely. I fell into a depression that lasted years and felt, still feel, this ultimate shame for being who I am.

Luckily I am back at therapy, and feeling a lot of rage for my family not taking better care of me as a kid. However, I do acknowledge my illness is a heavy driver in my thought processing, and finding it very difficult to accept my part in it as I've often felt moved by something that wasn't me. I count numbers a lot and check door knobs constantly, I am hyper-vigilant of my surroundings and peripheral vision and my brain likes to tell me that everyone is poisoning me. It is debilitating, as you know.

I took my medication this morning for the first time in years after getting sober from alcohol and drugs 4 years ago. I am reminiscing on my life. I am single, sober, and accepting that I am not 'normal'. I want to be there for my siblings and my community and not be so involved in myself, and I guess it's only been this way because I've been suffering all of my life. I have hope that things will get better because if I don't, then there's no point to do anything. I have a tonne of hobbies and interests and keep myself pretty busy with them. I am well today and ate an apple and crocheted so it is a good day.

I skipped a lot of important details, but I'm not so great at writing through reflecting on my own reality verse altered reality... But this is my story so far. Thanks if you read this and feel free to respond if you resonate.

Sorry Mods if I have included anything in here incorrectly or too sensitive. Thanks