At 29, life seemed relatively normal until a routine babysitting job unleashed a torrent of anxiety that would reshape my understanding of mental health. What started as simple self-doubt evolved into a complex dance with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), a condition that would both challenge and ultimately transform my life.
The media’s portrayal of OCD often centers on perfectionism and cleanliness, exemplified by characters like Monica from Friends. But in reality, OCD is much more nuanced and often misunderstood. Instead of organizing spice racks or obsessing over germs, my mind became a battlefield of intrusive thoughts, each one more consuming than the last. It wasn’t about cleaning or controlling; it was about managing the chaos within.
Living in the spiral
OCD doesn’t just show up when you’re alone, it infiltrates every aspect of life. It’s present in social interactions and daily rituals, leaving no corner untouched.
A simple night out could turn into a relentless loop of worry. Misinterpreted drunk calls led to endless apologies and self-recriminations. The irrational fear of harming others, even when I knew I was safe, became a consuming paranoia. And no matter how often friends assured me, the need for reassurance was unquenchable.
Daily rituals
My daily routines felt like a tightrope act, balancing safety and sanity. I photographed unplugged appliances to prove to myself that I had, in fact, unplugged them. I checked locks multiple times before bed, each time more convinced that I had missed something crucial. Safety precautions escalated from sensible to excessive, all while my internal dialogue whispered, What if?
The breaking point
As OCD gripped my life tighter, its impact expanded beyond the mind and seeped into the body.
Health anxiety was relentless, and I found myself going through unnecessary medical procedures in a desperate attempt to find control. The more my condition progressed, the more I felt trapped. Medication incidents, including incorrect dosages and a growing fear of side effects, were a regular part of my day. My physical well-being became as volatile as my mental state.
Emotional impact
Relationships strained under the weight of my condition. Friends and family didn’t know how to respond to my sudden outbursts and withdrawal. Professional life took a hit as my ability to focus waned and performance suffered. I felt alone, disconnected from the world and from myself.
Finding light through laughter
It was through a surprising twist that I found the first glimmer of hope—comedy. I signed up for an improv class at Second City, motivated by nothing more than curiosity. What started as a small step turned into an unexpected lifeline.
The comedy journey
On stage, I found freedom. The pressure to be perfect, a constant in my life, melted away when I was in front of an audience. For a few precious moments, I felt unburdened. The chaos in my mind had an outlet, and it was powerful. Sharing my thoughts and experiences through humor turned them into something manageable, even relatable.
Performing was more than just fun, it was therapeutic. Anxiety levels dropped after I left the stage. I became part of a community, surrounded by people who accepted me as I was. Humor shifted my perspective, reframing my struggles not as weaknesses but as parts of my story worth sharing. The burden lightened, and the laughter that followed was healing in itself.
Professional intervention
While comedy was helping, it wasn’t the only thing that aided my recovery. Professional help became crucial to my healing journey.
I started specialized obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) therapy, focusing on exposure response prevention (ERP). This method challenged me to confront my fears gradually, teaching me how to resist the compulsion to perform rituals. Outpatient programs and therapy sessions became the cornerstone of my fight against OCD.
Recovery process
ERP wasn’t easy. It involved confronting triggers and learning to sit with discomfort. But as weeks turned into months, I recognized patterns and developed coping mechanisms. Building resilience was no longer just a phrase—it was a daily practice.
The show must go on
Comedy wasn’t just therapy, it became a way of life. I embarked on creating a one-woman show, an opportunity to share my journey and connect with others who might feel alone in their struggles.
Developing my show meant pouring my heart into every scene, turning my experiences into comedy that resonated. The connection with the audience was powerful; they laughed, they related, and I felt seen.
Educational impact
Through my performances, I broke down stereotypes about OCD, bringing awareness to an often-overlooked topic. Mental health became a shared space, where the stigma faded in the laughter and conversations after the show.
Lessons learned
As I stand on stage now, I see the strength in vulnerability. My journey wasn’t just about recovery, it was about discovering the power of sharing, of turning struggles into triumphs.
Acceptance of uncertainty became an essential part of my healing. I learned that humor was more than a coping mechanism—it was a force that could change perspectives.
Universal messages
My story showed me that mental health conversations matter. Laughter, empathy, and seeking help when needed can all coexist. Humor can be healing, and asking for support isn’t weakness; it’s strength.
