The day I left the day clinic I can distinctly remember not being able to calm myself down inside. My world was spinning out of control and there was little anyone, doctor or otherwise, could do about it. I remember countless trips made to psychologists which proved unfruitful and very expensive. I felt more like a subject being studied than someone being helped. God was mentioned in these discussions, but it was not the God I know. Self-regulation techniques were taught, but without any context as to why or when or how to use them.

I remember waking each morning in my bed hoping and praying this was all some sort of bad dream. I would violently rock back and forth in my bed unable to stop this rocking feeling on the inside or on the outside. At this point nothing really helped to stop the rocking. I tried the breathing exercises, but these seemed only to frustrate me with little results. I tried going outside, but this only added to my fear.

My fear had taken over even the depths of my psyche. I had lost hope that the doctor was going to be able to do anything for me. Each day I would crawl out of bed only to watch Kristi leave for the day. Separation anxiety would dominate my mind as she was getting ready for work. My OCD was at an all time high and I would check everything you can imagine. These new habits I spoke of begin to pile up and we were ready to seek out new help.

Someone, I’m not sure exactly who, recommended I go see another psychiatrist about my meds. I remember traveling across town with Kristi to see this new doctor. Our first visit with the Doctor and my symptoms seemed to terrify her. Not because she did not know what to do, but come to find out it was because of my new habits. At this point I was very robotic in many ways. I walked stiff, rigid, and less like a human than I can ever remember. After telling my story, the Doctor gave us the lowdown on my current state.

Our first course of action was to get me off of the crazy meds I was put on by my previous doctor. This would take time, but at a certain point I would be able to start some different meds which were considered the “Gold Standard” when treating OCD, anxiety, and depression. I remember hearing this phrase thinking, why did the last guy not know about this “Gold Standard?” The Doctor gave me a sense of hope which was something we both desperately needed.

There were many visits back and forth to the doctor, but this time the weird side effects seemed to decrease for the first time. Slowly, the rigid movement I had become so accustomed to started to subside. Finally!…something seemed to go right. I was not out of the woods yet, but even the smallest glimmer of hope was just the miracle we needed.