For me, one constant accompaniment to OCD is a sense of threat. The threat could be germs, which might become linked to a person or object. This leads to mental heaviness, wherever that threat is (on me, someone else, an object, in the air). Everything is secondary to the threat, and it’s my job to contain it. OCD demands attention, so compliance feels like a necessity rather than a choice.

That said, my illness doesn’t define me. OCD doesn’t replace my insightfulness, confidence, inquisitiveness or creativity. However, those kinds of qualities get sidelined in the full throes of a threat. The amber traffic light ready to turn red, forcing me to slam down the brakes at a moment’s notice. In survival mode, I’m laser-focused on containing the threat. Everything else can wait.

This state leads to avoidance and compulsive behaviour. Compulsions help me get closer to a fleeting, almost-unattainable feeling of ‘just right’. Because my compulsions started early, I found it hard to pinpoint where my personality ended and OCD began. If you’re naturally vigilant, it’s easy to convince yourself that you’re not ill. You might consider symptoms an extension of your personality.

What blurred this line further is that OCD felt like my protector. My symptoms seemed like a natural, obvious response: why would I, detecting a threat, react in any other way? I couldn’t imagine my life without compulsions, I didn’t want to. How would I manage threats without them?