Hi everyone!
After seeing this thread, I thought that it was the perfect place for me to seek advice...
A while ago, I did a little research into some of my peculiar habits and diagnosed myself with OCD.
My family, however, are very ignorant about mental health so it took me a long time to summon the courage to tell them.
Once I managed to convince them that it was worth checking out, my mum booked an appointment with a local GP.
The appointment was this morning and I was pretty optimistic because the symptoms had been getting worse and this was my chance to get help for it (in the week before, I had compiled a list of 67 OCD symptoms!) but, being younger than 14 (I can't type that number as it is one of my fears), my mum had to accompany me into the office. The appointment was ridiculously short and it was spent by my mum trying to justify and in some cases deny all of the things I was saying. It ended pretty inconclusively and so I just don't know where to go from here... It's a horrible situation to be in knowing full well that my symptoms do comply with those of OCD but that my mum refuses to admit it and is therefore destroying any hope I have of curing or at least making progress with it. Friday night had to be my lowest point - after a huge argument with my sister (OCD related - one of my obsessions is having everything at a 90 degree angle to the table but she refused to let me touch her stuff), I was unable to sit in our main room (the only way to stop my urges is to either complete the action or move away from it) so while my entire family was sat watching a film, I was left alone in the kitchen. Two hours had passed and my mum came to see if I was okay. I told her the problem and she told me that she would move the stuff and I could go back into the room. I expected that she would come back as soon as the stuff had been tidied so, to keep myself occupied for the two minutes or so, I started pacing up and down on five tiles (one of my lucky numbers) counting my steps (I count everything) and making sure that I didn't step on the cracks (another obsession) and managed to convince myself that something awful would happen if I stopped before one of my relatives came back into the kitchen. Well, my mum didn't come back in two minutes so I just continued. After about twenty minutes, I realised how utterly ridiculous it was but couldn't prize myself away from the tiles and every time I thought about moving, I had these awful visions of my family being strangled and me committing suicide with one of the kitchen knives! I started crying and felt incredibly helpless and like I didn't even have control of my own body but couldn't even get a tissue because I couldn't move from the tiles. This one ritual lasted 53 minutes! 53 minutes of counting, apologising, avoiding cracks, sobbing, intrusive thoughts, feelings of depression and total helplessness :-(
I apologise for the essay but just really need help here. What should I do? I've exhausted, or rather wasted the GP option and really need help with this.
Thank you in advance and good luck with all of your fights against OCD!