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The Weight of My Own Thoughts: An Exploration of Intrusive Fear
by Jane Doe
Updated: Sep. 26, 2023
Recently, my seven-year-old daughter inquired about my fears. What truly scares me? Beyond the common anxieties of parenting—feeling overwhelmed, the inability to shield my children from harm—I struggled to pinpoint a tangible fear that she could grasp. The truth is, my fear isn’t rooted in physical threats; it resides within my mind.
The burdens I carry are shaped by relentless thoughts and distressing mental images. My greatest source of anxiety stems from my own brain, which generates a barrage of unsettling and compulsive thoughts. I live with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and as a result, intrusive thoughts infiltrate my mind like unwelcome guests, creating pathways for fear to thrive. These thoughts disrupt even the most mundane moments—like planning school lunches or remembering dentist appointments—twisting them into unbearable scenarios that taunt me with their potential to manifest.
My first encounter with obsessive thoughts occurred during my teenage years. Although I had experienced symptoms of OCD prior, I lacked an understanding of them. I engaged in compulsive behaviors such as checking and counting, and I constantly adjusted my clothing and surroundings to alleviate my discomfort. It became a part of my identity, something I learned to accommodate.
The turning point came when I obtained my driver’s license. As I drove across a bridge, a sudden impulse surged within me, tempting me to steer off the edge. I had no desire to end my life; I merely felt an overwhelming urge to act upon a thought that terrified me. Fearful of appearing unstable, I kept these thoughts hidden, further compounding my distress.
As time passed, my intrusive thoughts evolved. In college, I imagined skipping classes or attending events uninvited, creating elaborate scenarios where I would encounter self-destruction and homelessness. These unfounded concerns spiraled into panic attacks, fueled by my mind’s vivid fabrications.
After relocating to Vermont, I sought therapy, where I received a diagnosis of OCD and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) stemming from childhood trauma. Yet, I only disclosed superficial aspects of my anxiety. I didn’t reveal my compulsive bathroom visits before leaving the house out of fear of being unable to find a restroom. I didn’t share my panic when passing by pedestrians and cyclists, nor did I mention the recurring vision of a man with a knife beckoning me from my backyard—an image that vanished upon opening the door.
Additionally, I harbored dark thoughts of harming loved ones, convinced that visualizing such acts had given rise to a hidden potential within me. Through reading self-help literature, I discovered that intrusive thoughts were common in OCD, encompassing fears of death and violence. While this knowledge didn’t eliminate my distress, it provided some solace, reminding me that these thoughts did not define my character.
Understanding my identity—rooted in a desire to protect others—contrasts sharply with the nature of my intrusive thoughts. Now, as a parent, the weight of these fears amplifies, often involving my children in scenarios that provoke profound anxiety. Yet, recognizing these thoughts as mere products of my mind has been vital. Acceptance of this aspect of my psychology, though not synonymous with peace, has allowed me to confront rather than evade my fears.
I’ve learned that suppressing my thoughts only intensifies their grip. Instead, I confront them, observing as they weave through my psyche, blending genuine memories with imagined horrors. I endure the accompanying physical sensations—sweating, trembling—while reminding myself of their falsehood. The persistent flicker of these thoughts may haunt my sanity, but I choose to acknowledge their presence without yielding to them.
Therapy and medication have become essential tools in managing these intrusive thoughts. While I strive to counter them with logic, I also accept their existence, affirming that they are not real and never will be. My fears are but shadows, remnants of my mind’s complexity. In a metaphorical sense, I told my daughter, my fear resembles snakes—slithering and elusive.
In conclusion, navigating the landscape of intrusive thoughts is a challenging journey, yet acknowledging their presence as part of my mental health condition has fostered resilience. For those experiencing similar struggles, resources like American Pregnancy provide valuable insights into managing fears and fostering well-being. To further explore this topic, consider visiting Intracervical Insemination and Make A Mom.