obsessive compulsive disorder #1

"Mommy, are you mad at me?" I was 12 years old and that was probably the millionth time I had asked her that question in my life. Sometimes the responses were sweet and compassionate. "No sweetheart, why would I be?" other times she would just roll her eyes and tell me to stop asking that question or she WOULD get mad at me. But I couldnt stop. No matter where we were, what time of day it was or what we were doing, I had to ask. "Are you mad at me?" Why did I always feel the need to make sure my mom (or anyone I loved) wasnt upset with me? I have asked myself that question so many times in the past 22 years. Why cant you just stop caring if they are upset? Why? It's because I am terrified that if I dont ask, I'll know the answer. Yes. Yes everyone is mad at me. Yes. Yes everyone is upset with me. Yes. Yes everyone is going to leave me because of who I am. I ask if people are mad because why wouldnt they be? They have to live with a burden. A crazy person, a person who has someone else occupying their brain. How could anyone not be mad at me? how could anyone actually love me? these are the questions this person living in my brain asks. This person living in my brain makes me the person I dont want to be. I want to be a person who loves themself. But I cant because I suffer from an anxiety disorder called OCD.