Bringing Back Me
01 Madeline's OCD set in at the age of 7 after contracting PANDAS. She is now a sophomore in college.
02 PANDAS stands for Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorders Associated with Streptococcal Infections, and is a specific type of strep infection that triggers Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
03 Art has been a crucial coping mechanism for Madeline.
Growing up, I was the kid who was always singing loudly in public (regardless of whether or not I had any vocal talent), or who was always laughing for the pure sake of laughing. You could say I was happy. But when I was around seven, everything started to change.
The once bubbly and bright child who always had a smile on her face disappeared. It started after a two-week long fever. The doctor couldn’t find anything else wrong — he told my mom it was just a fever. He told her that I would be fine with some rest and some Tylenol.
But I wasn’t fine, and I wasn’t me anymore. I didn’t sing. I didn’t laugh. I worried about everything. It started with having to wash my hands five times over, and escalated to avoiding people or things if they looked “germy.” I couldn’t go near certain people. I couldn’t put on certain pieces of clothing. It became an everyday struggle to get up in the morning because, in my mind, everything in my world was contaminated.
At first my parents thought it was a stage that I would just “snap out of” — but I didn’t. It just got worse. My mom brought me to different doctors, trying to figure out what had happened to her smiling little girl. I went through years of trying a variety of coping methods and seeing different people.
When I was eight, my mom read an article about PANDAS, which stands for Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorders Associated with Streptococcal Infections — it’s a specific type of strep infection that triggers Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). She looked up a PANDAS specialist in our area and immediately made an appointment; even more than a year after that two-week long fever, tests showed the strep associated with PANDAS was still in my system. I went on a long course of antibiotics, but it turns out that once that OCD switch is turned on, there’s no turning it off.
But I wasn’t fine, and I wasn’t me anymore. I didn’t sing. I didn’t laugh. I worried about everything.
But there are ways of coping with it. I’ve learned lots of strategies, but the thing that has helped me cope the most is art. I had always loved to draw, and when I was around nine years old I started going to art classes at the local art school near my home. I think that art saved me. Art began to bring back that bright kid that was still in me. Art pulled me out of my downward spirals when nothing else could. It helped me clear my head when the thoughts in my mind felt like they were sticky notes that would just not come off.
As I grew up, my OCD presented itself in various ways, depending on the different situations life presented — a major one, was the transition from high school to college. While my OCD started with intense phobias of germs and compulsive hand washing that most people associate with OCD, over time it developed into more of a cycle of intrusive thoughts of doubt and guilt.
I still make art every day, but I have learned how to control my OCD with various forms of coping and therapy. Most importantly, I do not let OCD stop me from being me.
I will never again let it rob me of my happy, laughing self. I know how to recognize and call out OCD the second I feel it is creeping in. Sometimes when I’m tired and worn down, it’s hard to resist the temptation of giving into OCD and the passing moment of calm that comes with giving in. But I know it is not worth that singular moment — I know that giving into OCD is never the answer, just like giving into a bully should never be the answer.
I am a sophomore in college now and I am proud of where I am today. I am proud of the laughing, silly, joyful, bright human being I am. I know that OCD will always be a part of me and that it has in some ways shaped who I am, but I also know that it is not me.
Sincerely,
A happy kid