To Succeed, We Must First Love

The mind, such a beautiful fragile thing. The key to slipping away from our painful, stressful realities. But also the secret weapon we harbor that can lead to our ultimate downfall. I always look at the world in a half-full glass, I whispered in a daydream once. Oh, how daydreaming was my eudaimonic pleasure, how it dulcified my anxiety like the lull of the luscious melodies of Jazz. My mind glowed with the glimmer of a million fireflies leaping across the luminescent sky. But that was before the storm clouds came rumbling in camouflaging my midnight.

A year ago I would have never had to make the vow I now make on this December 31st, but your life can change in an instant. Happiness, you were everything to me, your radiating positivity, but where did you go? My life was once a fairytale, but it withered. It started one day in March. "Virus spreading rapidly in Europe'', the voice on the black box stated. I thought nothing of what was supposed to be a "humorous meme". But fear still settled in my mind.

You see, we were actually headed on a school trip to Europe, one I had dreamed about since I was 3, yes at an age where I was just beginning to recollect dreams. But then I internalized the words my teacher stated about the trip, "they won't let you go if you have the faintest of a cough." I from then on had a mission. This mission coupled with my ambition to achieve perfect attendance took up most of my thought space so that no other thoughts could have the precious airtime. The battle was on and I suited up.

I wore my shield of a face mask. Others mocked me saying the mask would do nothing to prevent getting the virus, but I didn’t care about just the virus. You see before my trusty shield came along, I was left defenseless against the siege being laid by the flu. “No cough” my thoughts reminded me, as persistently as an alarm clock. I got smart by wearing a mask, and my shield and I formed a bond as strong as that of a soldier and steed. Wearing my shield, I felt safe, an indescribable feeling of safety. But then my armor with age sought retirement. Except I could not provide that, for the quest to obtain a new shield proved impossible. So I instead bandaged the steed up with tape yet this proved an ineffective solution so more drastic modifications had to be made.

That’s right, layers of paper towels. However, my armor then became heavier and the days felt longer. It’s as if safety couldn’t exist in my little corner of the world. The improvisations inflicted feelings of excessive warmth and sickness within me. Good thing we were given rest in spring break. But who I thought was the enemy in a battle I thought was over was not the real devious mastermind. The truth was, my battle was just beginning and turns out there was almost no one I could trust.

The germs that danced once across my nightmarish visions ceased out of existence, blown away like dust. I found comfort in the cocoon of my solitude. I made friends with the silence as my contact with the real world had been severed. But very soon my own mind started to fight me as if it was discontent with my inner peace. “Pick up the litter or bad things will happen”, it screamed in my head on a loop. I obeyed and thought it was just the morality of my conscience. But this thought echoed in my inner being in parks or any time I was outside. I would stop everything I was doing just to pick up a cigar with my bare hands, and then I couldn’t stop. I was like Pac-man on a hunt.

Picking up trash was like a never-ending addiction that I did not desire to have. I would scream out of frustration yet I could not stop until my arms itched. Could not stop until it was dusk by the time I came home where I would be met with a “Where have you been?” Oh, mother how I wish I knew.

I was in emotional distress, longing for freedom. I was tired of this. But one day, it was as if relief came. My mind no longer chanted such banter in my ears. And yet I wasn’t free. “Step on the sidewalk crack and your mom will die”, became my next favorite tune. And once again I obeyed. But did obeying make me feel better? No! You’d think if you were in perfect submission to your captor, then they would be satisfied. But instead, he ramped up the punishment. Intensified it until I snapped. On that fine September day, I just a girl going about her day. But then he called out like a siren to a sailor and I was lured in by the far from melodious tune. Yet the tune had a hypnotizing effect. I reawakened my trash habits and I knew I had walked into a war.

Soon enough I was sticking my arm elbow-deep in a trash can to re-throw away a water-logged phone three times. “Do this or your dog will be poisoned!”, “Oh we wouldn’t want your brother getting into a car accident now would we?” Well, he was right, so I obeyed. And by the end my shoes were muddy, my socks wet, leaves intertwined in my hair, itching sensations all over my body, and an emotional breakdown as the cherry on top.

I then obeyed more trying to please him so he never put me through that again. But he never held up his end of the bargain. He kept it up, but what could I do? “Step on the sidewalk crack and your mother dies”, became my mantra. But the demands of being outside were too hard to keep up. So I just solved the problem by staying house-bound. Others never left the house in order to protect themselves from the virus, but my main reason for staying home was because being outside was too scary, time-consuming, and emotionally draining.

So two weeks passed, and I was officially kind of like Rapunzel minus the shiny long blonde hair which some of us secretly wished we had. But then I was fine until I was not. Honestly, how could I fight a monster I could not see? Time progressed and I tried to get by as fear paralyzed my body at any given moment. With tears from fear arising occasionally. I stayed in his servitude and by doing so I almost lost myself completely.

I slowly started to deteriorate. Joy could not be found so often, and my days were not enjoyable. And then I felt emotionally void, as he hid my feelings from me. But then it changed. My pain became visible and mom finally cracked the mystery. So me and my mom went to an ally for valuable intel. The therapist finally revealed my enemy to me. 3 letters, one syllable, OCD.

I still lose myself in his mazes. He being my OCD voice Baxter. I am slowly finding myself. The truth is I almost had to lose myself completely to uncover my enemy. So this year as I reflect, while others make resolutions for diets or improved patience, I will make my resolution. A resolution to fall in love with myself again, and learn to forgive myself. Because we all deserve happiness and independence. But to do that we must learn to break free. And that can only be done with understanding and self-love.