As a little girl, I had no idea I was mentally ill. I just thought I was of below average intelligence and different. My mother even saw a patient or two at Mental Health with OCD, never thinking I was one too. I think by at least 8, I knew on some level the frightening thoughts weren’t real, but then I would think, “but what if my fears are real?” Anyway, enjoy and please let me know what you think. I know it isn’t my best effort.

 

 

At the age of 3, I look longingly at the sea.

The wet sand is quicksand ready to swallow up me.

 

At age 6, the devil might come up when I flush.

I learn this truth from a teenager,

and teens are like adults,

they never lie.

 

At age 7, everything I eat will cause me to choke to death,

and if not that,

I will die of a heart attack.

 

At age 8, I just know the former owners of  our car were drug dealers

who left their stash hidden inside so we’d go to jail.

The other shoe will somehow drop without fail,

and I’ll be locked up, no bail.

And I am afraid my grandparents will die,

or maybe I’m already dead?

These notions just won’t leave my head.

 

At age 13, I’m afraid of everyone my own age,

so as a hermit I try to fade away.

I think in unwanted blasphemies and ask myself is red the color of the devil?

 

At age 14, I worry that thoughts can cause action,

s and if I’m not careful I will cause people and animals  to die.

I’m afraid of men.

 

At age 15, I think my mom is going to die.

The man she’s dating will kill her somehow I’m sure .

Maybe he’s a rapist, a murderer, or just a bad driver.

I will be left to my grandmother and nothing I ever do will be good enough.

I will be alone.

I’m finally driven into therapy.

 

At age 17, I’m diagnosed with OCD.

Mom had said I’d one day grow out of worrying,

but no, my worries grew with me.

 

Submitted to http://thursdaypoetsrallypoetry.wordpress.com

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