For better or worse, when I get distracted by something shiny, I quickly lose my way. The same goes for my writing. Sometimes I can’t articulate all the things tumbling around in my brain because there’s just too many. When the obsessive and intrusive thoughts start, you try to pretend they’re not there. You try to pretend, but it doesn’t last very long. I’m smiling in front of people, and nobody knows that there’s gunfire going off in my head.

I have a secret. I need to tell it: my OCD is out of control again. No one needs to mop their floors three times a day. There’s no excuse—I’m running from something. I finally know what it is. Now I just need to stop being such a chickenshit and deal with it head-on. They say admitting to problems is the first step in recovery. I’m going to test that hypothesis starting today.