Allison Britz

My brain was at war with itself, and I was stuck in the crossfire.

I tried to explain, but the words got tangled in my fear.

Every day felt like I was walking a tightrope, terrified of what might happen if I lost my balance.

I washed my hands until my skin was raw, but I still didn’t feel clean.

No one could see the battle raging inside my mind.

The rituals were both my prison and my protection.

I wanted to be normal more than anything, but I didn’t know how.

Even in a crowded room, I felt completely alone.

I was so afraid of what people would think if they knew the truth.

Hope was a fragile thing, easily crushed by the weight of my obsessions.

Therapy wasn’t a miracle, but it was a lifeline.

I learned that my thoughts didn’t define me.