When I was fifteen my father died,
his death triggered something deep in me.
I truly felt the walls closing in,
thought I was losing my mind you see.
I convinced myself that mom was next,
unless I did certain things to prevent it.
So for hours on end, objects I'd touch,
I truly felt this fear was authentic.
Light switches flicked on and off through the night,
door knobs rattled, faucets turned off and on.
Thought I was saving my mom from sure death,
only in sleep would the feeling be gone.
It was O.C.D but I didn't know it,
a mental illness that's brought on by stress.
Alone and afraid, this went on for months.
Life was exhausting, it felt like a mess.
'Till one day my mom found out about me,
she broke the cycle and forced me away,
from the nightmare in which I was trapped.
With her help back then I'm recovered today.
It took a while to settle my mind,
get rid of the feelings of fear and dread.
Today just a little O.C.D remains,
ninety percent gone, ten percent still in my head.
It's a victory for me to walk by shoes,
that aren't lined up precise toe to heel.
And not to lock the door twenty times,
free from obsession and how it made me feel.
It took all of my will to finally stop,
the hardest thing that I've ever done.
But with help from my mom and her love and support,
O.C.D is the illness that I have outrun.
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