Just Breathe

Just breathe has become a phrase I have grown familiar with over the last few years. In December of 2019 and into 2020, I noticed that I was having difficulty breathing. Now I had gone through the ringer with OCD before; bumps, headaches, bladder issues, rare disease, you name it. However, this difficulty breathing, this feeling that I was gasping for air, tightness in chest, felt different. Part of the reason why was because, well, its breathing. It’s not something I typically think about, and now be so focused on it and too feel just, out of breath was scary. I began to have the what if? thoughts, which was not uncommon. Lung cancer, predictably, was one of the first things that my brain began to focus on. I began to recall every time I had a cigar: You know John, you did have a cigar a couple weeks ago, I thought to myself as my brain convinced me that it had to be lung cancer. The weird thing about having OCD, and specifically related to health, is that the one thing that could help ease the suffering of feeling like your dying and the anxiousness is going to the doctor. But of course I couldn’t allow myself to do that because to me, she is only going to confirm the obvious: that I have a deadly disease. So, I kept it to myself, I continued on faking like everything was alright when it really wasn’t. I just wanted to say, Why can’t I just fucking breath normally, why me, why me. Why me is a frequent thought for someone suffering with OCD, and when I began feeling the effects of OCD on the voluntary of bodily functions, it was beyond frustrating. More than that though was just this feeling of confusion, why is my own brain lying to me? And to be completely honest, the feeling like you can’t catch your breath sucks. So, in those months it was hard to be happy, it was hard to look forward to things, it was hard to fake like I was ok, day, after day, after day. To oversimplify it, I had enough, it was getting to the point where I couldn’t focus on anything else and my grades and relationships were suffering. The next call I made was to my therapist. Side note: making an appointment with your therapist is a big fuck you to OCD, so do it. I began seeing my therapist weekly, I began doing breathing techniques, and understanding how powerful my brain really is. Slowly I began to focus less on it, have less intrusive thoughts about breathing, I began living my life a little more, and I conquered it. I wanted to write this, about this topic in particular now, because I am going through another rut with OCD and breathing. Like what happens a lot with OCD, it felt like it came out of nowhere. I began taking quick breaths, I began feeling out of breath, and those worried thoughts came back. Now, this isn’t the first time my breathing difficulties have resurfaced, but I wanted to write about my experience with this one because I hope it might help someone who may be going through something similar. The first time I was going through something like this it was scary, I felt all alone, and I felt like no one else in the world could possibly know what I was going through. I know what you’re going through. Your OCD wants you to be scared. And although I am going through it now, I have the tools to beat it again: I have my breathing techniques, I have my weekly therapy appointments, and I have no intention of stopping going to the gym. So, what I want anyone who might be reading this to know, is that no matter what you’re going through, no matter how weird you think it is, how few people might understand, or how along you feel you are, I promise you that you are not. It will get better, keep fighting it, you got this.