From the age of five, my brain became a battlefield.
Following a traumatic event, I developed severe OCD and paranoia. Not the quirky “I like things neat” kind, this was real, diagnosed OCD that consumed my life. I wasn’t just touching things for fun or cleaning obsessively. I was ruled by intrusive thoughts telling me if I didn’t touch something the “right” number of times, something terrible would happen—like my mum dying. I believed it. Completely.
I hardly slept. Nights were spent moving objects, touching surfaces repeatedly, and staring out the window in fear someone was watching the house. That terror followed me into my teenage years, until I discovered alcohol.
Alcohol quieted the chaos. It numbed the thoughts, helped me sleep, and gave me a false sense of control. I put drinking on a pedestal. It felt like freedom… until it became a prison. By 18, I was physically dependent.
Then came my diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).
Fear of abandonment, intense anger, impulsivity, black-and-white thinking. I lived in extremes. My emotions were unmanageable, my relationships were a rollercoaster, and the only tool I had to cope was booze.
I walked into my first AA meeting at 18. But it took ten more years and countless rock bottoms before I finally got sober. Why? Because for someone like me, dealing with OCD, BPD, anxiety, and depression, I needed more than just meetings. I needed therapy. I needed skills. I needed to learn how to manage the storm inside my head.
The truth is, alcohol starts off as a lifeline. A way to cope, to numb, to survive. But then it flips. It becomes the problem. It adds fuel to an already raging fire.
Growing up, I kept my OCD a secret. I remember hearing something on the news about a person with schizophrenia and thought, That must be me. I hear thoughts in my head, too.
From age 7, I was terrified I’d be locked away if anyone found out. So I suffered in silence.
By the time my family began noticing, I’d already started drinking and I wasn’t about to let go of the one thing I thought was helping me survive. But all it brought me was a decade of destruction, addiction, and despair.
My advice? If you’re struggling with your mental health, get help. Early. Don’t suffer in silence.
Self-medicating doesn’t fix anything. It just digs the hole deeper.
Therapy has taught me to manage my emotions, challenge my thoughts, and navigate life without burning everything down. My OCD? It’s still there but a shadow of what it used to be. I have little rituals. Sometimes the urge comes. But it passes. It no longer rules me.
Sobriety hasn’t just changed my outer world, it’s given me internal peace. It’s given me tools. Clarity. Emotional stability. And that peace? I’ll protect it with everything I’ve got.
If you’re in the dark right now, please know there is a way out.
You are not broken. You just need the right tools to heal.
To learn more about Olivia visit: @sobercoasterlife (Instagram and TikTok)
