About 3 months ago, maybe less, I could tell you that the symptoms of my OCD were rocking. And by that I mean, they were almost non-existent. I would have called myself about 95% good, feeling great and riding high and wondering what all my fuss over OCD had been. Speaking as a person with severe OCD, this was a freaking fantastic accomplishment. I never thought I would be so good.
At the same time, my husband and I had been trying to get pregnant. I though, no biggie, once I am pregnant I will just go off the medication and keep being positive and all will be grand. I can keep this mojo going and I can not lose sight of the fact that I have a disorder, I am not the disorder.
I got pregnant. I went off the medication immediately. I still felt good.
But this did not last. About the time my medications should of been drip-dripping their last little bit out of my blood system, my brain and my old nemesis, the OCD monster, hip-hopped back into action and took hold.
At first it wasn't too bad and I could easily recognize that I was just dealing with some OCD symptoms I had had before. I figured without the meds my defenses had been lowered a tad, but I still thought I could control it. I still thought I had the decision-making ability for the chemicals within my brain.
I was wrong.
My symptoms today are pretty strong. They are not the strongest they have ever been, they are not as bad as they could be, but oh how it is a different world from just three months ago.
But as I work through each day, battling the anxiety, curbing the feelings of insecurity, keeping my brain cells aware of the world, I know it is the best thing I could ever do for the little munchkin resting deep within me. I did this for my son and I am doing this for my little Bean. Doesn't mean I have to like it.
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