I genuinely believed that the sooner I died, the sooner I could resolve this seemingly bottomless anguish over existence and the afterlife. And no matter how hard I tried to pull myself out of that headspace, there seemed to be no escape. I attempted suicide for the first time not long after that.īeing alive, and being extremely aware of my own existence, was unbearable. And as I became increasingly depressed - with my OCD occupying almost all of the mental and emotional energy I had - I began to self-harm at age 13. Panic attacks became a common occurrence, made worse by how little sleep I was getting. I recited a prayer before bed every single night, not because I believed in God, but as a “just in case” wager if I died in my sleep. I’d knock on wood whenever I so much as thought about a loved one dying in the hopes of somehow “preventing” it.

I’d spend hours ruminating, trying to combat the thoughts by coming up with explanations, hoping to resolve the tension. To cope with the distress of these recurring ‘existential crises’ caused by my OCD, I developed a number of compulsions The distress it evokes can be completely disabling. If they experienced distress, it would be momentary.įor someone with existential OCD, though, the questions persist. While you might encounter such questions in a philosophy class or in the plotline of films like “The Matrix,” a person would usually move on from such thoughts. certain existential concepts like infinity, death, or reality.the existence and nature of the universe.the meaning, purpose, or reality of life.The International OCD Foundation describes existential OCD as “intrusive, repetitive thinking about questions which cannot possibly be answered, and which may be philosophical or frightening in nature, or both.” My recurring crises were actually something that’s known as existential OCD.

What I didn’t know at the time was that I had obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). My ruminating only made the obsessing worse. I spent hours trying to come up with an explanation that satisfied me, but I never seemed to be able to. The second thing I did was stop sleeping.Īnd I can remember, even then, wishing I would die soon so I wouldn’t have to live with the recurring question of what happens after. The first thing I did was write my own will (which really just amounted to instructions on which stuffed animals would go inside my casket). When I learned about death as a kid, it, too, became an obsession. As I got older, I noticed that while these existential questions might come and go in someone else’s mind, they always seemed to stick around in mine

Ocd depersonalization