An Index of Irrational Fears – Preface

One evening at a particularly intense therapy session, I had an epiphany — I cannot remember a time when I wasn’t afraid of something.

That’s not to say I spent my entire life up until now cowering in the corner of a warm, safe library or something, hiding from the outside world (although that was a good portion of it). In fact, if I’m honest, I take a lot of pride in how stupidly brave I am. Like, heights don’t phase me. Take me to any old theme park and I’ll be the first to get in line for whatever ride everyone else is trying to avoid. I’m still the designated spider slayer at my job, and I’m the idiot who got two feet away from an alligator on vacation in Florida. The point is, all the stuff normal people are supposed to be afraid of are not even concerns of mine.

But that’s not to say I’m fearless.

In fact, in my feeble attempt to peel back the layers of the suck-onion that is my never-ending war on my own stupid brain, I made a list of the horrifically nonsensical fears I’ve dealt with at one point or another. This is not an exhaustive list, even though it definitely freaking looks like it. These are the fears that, for one reason or another, stand out in my memory.

So why am I going through the trouble of writing all of this down? See, this is more than some cathartic exercise. Mental illness is this big, stupid elephant in the room almost everyone notices but never really takes the time to fully understand. The world’s idea of life with anxiety is drastically different from actual life with anxiety. In fact, when I came out of the presumably well-organized OCD closet after learning my official diagnosis, I got a slew of “Oh, I’m going to bring you over to clean my house sometime!” (Pro tip: Do not ever say this to someone with OCD. I pinky-promise it will not end well.) The truth is, nobody actually likes being OCD. It’s not something you’re proud of. It’s not some cute, hipster-girl-with-Zooey-Deschanel-hair quirk that automatically turns you into the stereotypical manic pixie dream girl.

It’s not. It’s a living hell. One where sometimes death itself seems like the only way out.

That’s why I wanted to get my experiences in writing and let the soft, tender underbelly of my mind be exposed to the world. Because if even one person out there realizes they’re not alone in this, everything I’ve gone through will be worth it. Because if I realized I wasn’t alone in this years ago, I would have opened up and sought help sooner. Because you can’t fight this battle alone. Because nothing in this world has the power to destroy a life quite like mental illness.

This is the story of the lifelong love-hate relationship between me and my head.