grace obsessed

To know I’m from Pittsburgh, you may be thinking this title is a toss-up reference either to my age or the great Steelers safety, turned Head and Shoulders model, Troy Polamalu. It really could be either, but it’s the former, in this case. I’m 43.

For the past many years, each birthday, I’ve reflected on how I wish I was at a better place with my mental health at a given point in my life, whether that was 30, 35, 40, every year, really. I’d like to tell you I didn’t do that this December 3, as I turned 43, but I did. Again, I thought, not only have I not been able to conquer (or even hold in check) my OCD, but the older I get, the question haunts me. Will this be the way I have to live forever?

Some say that living with a debilitating mental illness is only aided by the fact that they know no other way. They do not remember a time when they felt any differently. I haven’t decided whether it is a blessing or a curse, but I do know. I do remember a time before my OCD was all-consuming. I was different.

Once, in an attempt to regain the perspective we had at the beginning, my husband and I wrote about what initially attracted us to each other. It’s a beautiful exercise, actually. Reminds you of what may have been long ago buried by years and years of just life, honestly. I wasn’t entirely surprised by what my husband said, because he reminds me often, but nonetheless, this is what he said. “I had never known anyone more free than April. I wanted to be like her. More truly carefree and joyful and capable of inspiring other people to feel that same thing.” The thing is, I remember that version of me. And if I’m being honest, that is me in the deepest parts of my heart and soul and mind. One of the most challenging things I live with is this feeling that I’ve let myself down, simply because I struggle to be me with OCD. I struggle to be free. Free in the sense that I do not care what others think of me, free in the sense that my mind could be liberated from the intrusive thoughts that hurt me so deeply, free free.

Living authentically is more than just a life goal for me, it’s a must. I will not be fake. In fact if I suspect I will be in a situation where I might have to make a decision whether to be fake or brutally honest, I will at times avoid that situation altogether. That’s not good. But it’s true that I am very uncomfortable being anything but myself, and that is because I don’t desire to be anyone else. I like me. So to know that there was a time in my life where my heart and mind were truly free, I can’t help but wonder what it will take (therapy, meds/different meds, new doctors) to fully realize me again.

In my real life as a teacher, I believe my students see the closest thing to the truest version of myself. I think they see it more than my own family. It is so easy for me to turn myself over to these students, to be so connected to what they are experiencing. I free myself to be there for them. They are always asking me, “Do you ever have a bad day?”, “Are you always this happy?”, things like that. It thrills me to know that they see me. That because I am able to put them first (either because my job consumes me, which is not the best thing in the world, or because I just love kids, and that is probably more likely), the real me shines through.

Isn’t that the way, though? With my family and friends, I let down my guard. I show them the deepest love I can, but I also show my insecurities, my weaknesses. I tell them about my intrusive thoughts. I tell them I’m working on my mental health. And as a result of that, they know that I have bad days. They know that I am not always happy. They know who I’ve become, so many years removed from 18. I’d love to share with you in another post how I remember changing, when I began to lose my carefree spirit, and why. But for now, I’m 43. A work in progress. I feel deeply, love deeply, and try to give my best to as many people as possible. But I’m really just a girl who wishes she could quiet the thoughts in her head that she feels have changed her and be free again.