An essay of encouragement for those battling OCD

• Contains adult language

I can be a grinch when it comes to roller coasters. A handful of times I’ve enjoyed riding them, but the types I’m talking about are the ones that your grandma takes you on at the state fair the summer before you start your first year of “big kid school.” 

The sensation of my insides being heaved back and forth and up and down is unsettling to me. Then, when you mix in my steady stream of thoughts reminding me that I am literally riding a glorified mining cart down steep declines at highway speeds for shits and giggles, I feel no joy – I feel pure terror.

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