Everyone experiences OCD in their own way. Different thoughts, reactions, obsessions and compulsions.
For me, OCD is always with me. My companion. And not a silent one. My OCD is a nagging, persistent, illogical bastard of a companion.
On a regular day, or what I call a good day, OCD is more or less my silent passenger. Nagging me in the background, warning me not to do the things I fear. Warning me of the consequences if I don’t give in. On a good day things are quieter, I can catch my thoughts and cope. Even on a good day, the narrative is still there.
On a bad day, it cuts me off at my knees. The thoughts weigh on me so heavily that it feels like it is hard to breathe. My head spins. The world sounds loud. Every touch feels like an invasion of my bubble. I can smell everything bad, as though a smell can take residence in my head and not go away. The world feels dirty and overwhelming. I perform every ritual, healthy or not, to get through the day. It makes me very tired.
And on a horrible day nothing seems doable.