In 2023 the GP referred me for a health condition and I had to fill in some paperwork before seeing the consultant. It was a stressful time and I sat frozen, at my desk, unable to send in the forms, questioning what I’d written, checking and rechecking. The upshot was that when the consultant discharged me in 2024, as an aside he told the GP that I needed a referral for OCD treatment.

Finally I started to gain more understanding of the way my life had been.

I suffered from OCD from being a small child. My OCD is in the form of either thinking I’ve done something bad – or feeling I need to behave in a way to prevent something bad happening. The number 4 became very important to me. If I did things 4 times I could magically prevent harm coming to me or my family. I felt I carried that responsibility.

When I was eleven I went to stay with an aunt for a few days.  Years later I found out that she’d rung my mum whilst I was there, and asked if I was okay as I stayed in the bathroom so long every night. At the time I was splashing the taps with water 4 times to prevent anything bad happening. Then I decided 4 X 4 would be even safer, so had to perfectly splash them 16 times. Except it’s never quite that simple. You have to do it *just right*.

At certain points of my life, including an episode at high school, OCD told me big lies, accusing me of having done something irreprehensible. Its intrusive voice persuades you that you’ve behaved terribly, even if you know, deep down, that you haven’t.  It’s insidious and compelling, it makes you constantly question yourself. “Yes, but what if you did it? What a BAD person you must be.”

These episodes were harrowing, the anxiety about them lasting for years in some cases, and it blew my mind when, all these decades later, I finally had an explanation.

Now I’ve had OCD treatment. Not a full course. I’ve got too much going on in my life, currently, to have the headspace to deal with the deeper aspects. So we started with the more external *physical* issues I had – checking switches, windows, the hob, especially at night before going to bed.

OCD treatment is about the consequences and the evidence. The consequences of not doing my routines, in my view, were a house fire, a burglar breaking in, my family or myself dying or being murdered. So my therapist said let’s look at the evidence for that: How long have you been living where you are? 20 years. How many houses are there in your road? About 15. How many of the owners of those houses do you think check switches as thoroughly as you do? None. Most probably don’t even bother. And how many house fires have there been in the last 20 years in your road?

ZERO.

In other words, there is no evidence for my concerns, no proof that my rituals made a difference – and that’s what I worked with.

It wasn’t easy, lying in bed at night, forcing myself not to go down and check again, worried for the safety of my loved ones, imagining the worst scenarios, that voice telling me that I WOULD BE TO BLAME if something happened. But the more I did that, the more the evidence built up that my worries were unwarranted, the less I listened to the OCD voice, the less power it had over me. My physical OCD routines are SO much less rigid now. I still can’t quite believe it.

Writing and posting letters and cards has always been difficult, me continually opening them up to check I haven’t written anything offensive. Sounds ridiculous doesn’t it? Funny, even? But OCD is destructive. It eats away at time, at self-esteem, at all logic; it affects sleep, it causes stress and anxiety, it worsens other mental health conditions; it affects relationships because other people don’t understand your behaviour.

OCD controls you and encourages you to seek control.

“I’m a little OCD” is a phrase that gets banded about. But if you colour-coordinate your bookshelves and the consequences of not doing so would be that they won’t look as nice… that’s different to the consequences being that some life-changing trauma will happen as a result of mixed colours – or that you’re anxious because life won’t feel perfect and you literally can’t relax until that shelf is reorganised.

Perfectionism is a definite red flag and my OCD also presents through the high standards I set for myself in many areas of my life – work, appearance, etc.

Why am I telling you all this? For the same reason I’ve spoken about my mental health in the past: to lessen the stigma around this issue and spread awareness. During my life, when the many OCD things have happened, and not understanding that that’s what they were, I’ve believed that I was simply *a weird person*. That’s why I never told anyone what was going on. How harsh I’ve been on myself. It’s great to finally have the understanding and help.

How do you know if you’ve got OCD? There are many symptoms, these were mine, other people’s may be different:

Believing some inane ritual – like throwing water on taps – can magically keep you or others safe.

Believing that a bad thought can actually translate into a bad thing happening and you’ll be responsible.

Turning a switch or hob of and a voice telling you that it might still be on, you need to check again. And again. And again.

Believing you’ve done something terrible and deep down knowing you haven’t, but being unable to ignore the intrusive “but what if?” voice.

Liking routine, a structure, a certain way of doing things, because it makes life feel more *safe*.

Fearing contamination and illness from something everyday, in amounts others would consider harmless, like dust.

Not trusting yourself.

These behaviours and thoughts becoming magnified when you are stressed.

Those of you who’ve read my 2024 novel The Promise of Tomorrow will now recognize where the inspiration for that story came from.

If anything here feels relatable please speak to someone about it – your family, a friend, the GP.

You hold the key to getting out of the OCD prison.

And never forget – it’s actually imperfection that drives evolution.

For over 30 years now I’ve suffered on, and off, with eating disorder issues and these eventually led to a drink problem. At times I’ve felt on top of the world when I’ve been most ill, certainly with the anorexic aspects. I wanted to be thin. I got thin. Mission accomplished. The trouble is, as with any ambition, the goalposts always move.  You’ve got a few pounds you’d like to lose. Getting into that size 12 is great. But perhaps you then decide a size 10 is better, and so on. Like being an author… you get published. Get into the top #100 on Kindle. Next time you want to get into the top #50. Then the top #10. You want foreign deals. You want awards. Your goals move so far away from your original one of simply wanting to see your book out there.

Like the anorexic who looks in the mirror and views themselves as overweight, an author who’s doing SO well can often see themselves as a failure, compared to their contemporaries, perhaps, or when that person at a dinner party asks if they’re earning as much as J K Rowling.

In 2016 I got sober and yes, I felt fantastic and still do on one of my many good days – but, unexpectedly, sobriety brought problems I never foresaw. Relationships changed – I wasn’t the same person. I lost friends. Instead of escaping into a glass of wine I now have to face my problems and triggers head on and deal with them – and deal with the fallout from doing that.

It’s like getting published – you think signing that first contract and stopping the gruelling submission process marks the end of a long and winding, difficult road, and it does, it’s amazing. But, like stopping drinking, it also heralds the beginning of another challenging journey. There are many wonderful moments ahead but negative ones can temper them – bad reviews, poor sales due to reasons out of of your control, deadlines that are stressful to meet.

During lockdown I had the best mental health I’d had for years, not the experience for a lot of people – and it’s taken a few steps backwards since coming out of the pandemic and having to once again face the stresses of modern life. It’s frustrating to return to a position I thought I’d left behind forever. Having longed for freedom when Covid restrictions went on and on, it’s been unexpected.

But it is what it is. I am what I am.

Never let people diminish the way you feel because the way they see you doesn’t reflect your inner world. Those who’ll say “But at least…” They think they’re helping but those words don’t reflect true empathy as they don’t acknowledge that you have valid reasons for finding your situation tough.

A slim person can have a problem with food or body image. A sober person doesn’t always find life 100% easier than before. A person who’s been in lockdown is allowed to find returning to their former unrestricted life challenging. An author who’s had success does have the right to sometimes feel down about their career.

There are no rules. 

One thing I firmly believe is…

Peaks and troughs are part of life. Happiness and unhappiness are part of life. Reaching a peak makes us happy in a way it wouldn’t if we were happy all the time. And the passing of time teaches us that a trough will always end, just as it has before.

But if your trough is so deep you can’t see a way out, TALK TO SOMEONE. That’s what I did in 2016 and I’ve never regretted it. Most of the time I love life now and I love my career. I accept the peaks and troughs and am more successful at not allowing other people to define anything about me. As is said in AA, anyone else’s view of you is none of your business.

Often bulimics or binge-eaters aren’t seen as *ill enough* to warrant medical  help, due to their BMI being classed as normal – due to a tick in a box. And yet the mortality rates amongst those suffering with eating disorders is higher than for any other mental illness. Whatever your challenges are, be them struggles on the personal front or with your job, always remember they are valid and you deserve the help to get better.

If you’re struggling why not choose this week to reach out?