Like a real diagnose I mean.

I had a mild social anxiety disorder, but I was not officially diagnosed with and obsessive-compulsive disorder for years, which lead to an age of doubts and suffering. When people think of OCD it’s usually about germs, control freaks, or worries about whether you’ve locked the door. But, as with many mental health problems, it’s just not that easy. It cost me months of anxiety, nights without sleep, problems at work and zero effect from medical treatment.

I was told to increase doses, that I had Borderline disorder, that maybe I was not yet realizing I was getting better. Only when my second therapist advised me to visit a psychiatrist and we began talking about depression and why exactly it all returned to fears that never proved right but still persisted and ruined my life… that’s when OCD came up. The thing is, it’s not about a particular set of fears or one particular obsession. It’s about the pattern that goes on and on, often in such ways that you don’t even see it. I’d become obsessed about my health and new moles, then switch to thinking about my dog’s health. Then for days I’d worry about my future, that I was secretly homosexual, that I had no mental problems at all but some disease… My brain would cling to each of these doubts and obsess about it. Then I’d come to the therapist and we would talk about manias... I began to question if he actually knew what was wrong with me, but not soon enough.

I’m super thankful that in the end, I was prescribed antidepressants, with a diagnosis somewhat better than the initial one. But how many people like me waste time and money being misdiagnosed?

I relapsed. I'm so angry at myself. I was doing so well and now I've thrown it all away. Why am I so weak? I promised everyone I would stay sober. I'm such a failure. I let down my family. They all believed in me and I couldn't even stay strong for them. I'm so selfish. I knew better, but I still picked up that bottle. I hate myself for being so stupid

I don't know what to do now. I'm scared to tell anyone because I know they'll be disappointed in me, but I can't keep this secret. It's eating me up inside. I wish I could turn back time and make a different choice, but I can't. I have to face what I've done. I'm so ashamed. I thought I was better than this, but I guess I was wrong

I don't know how to fix this. I want to be better, but I keep messing up. I'm tired of fighting, I'm tired of disappointing everyone. I'm just so tired

I haven't really had friends in the last 5 years and I've never been in a relationship. Feels like I’m wasting the best moments of my life on the Internet. I feel empty and I sleep for 3-4 hours on most nights. I think I can’t make any offline friends. Zero people congratulate me with my Bday or send me text messages. The only person who calls me is my mom. I have no happy memories from the last seven years. I’m forever glued to my devices, waiting for another notification that someone liked my post or commented on all the social platforms I’m using. But lately I don’t enjoy talking to online strangers, it doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes I watch TikTok videos and cry cuz people have so much fun, loving friends and supportive families. I have nothing similar to what they have. No one spends Christmas in their bedroom watching anime. It’s only for losers like me. I get so lonely when I put away my phone, and I’m lonely when I use it cuz all those likes they are from passersby who don’t give a shit about me. Lately I play more video games and watch anime. It’s less painful than constantly scrolling the Internet. I can't bear the reality, so I've created my own where I don't have to feel anything. Sometimes I want to give it another try and get closer to some people I study with but it terrifies me. I try to tuck away feelings of despair and inadequacy but it keeps coming back and flooding me, saying no no, you keep falling down and stay alone. I think I got it from my mom who spends most of her time at work and has no husband and no friends except aunt. If only I could drink alcohol or smoke some, it’d be easier to look into the void. But the taste of alcohol makes me sick, I’m such a weirdo… I think I’ll just give up trying to change things

I must admit she’s a very organized hoarder. Our garage and the attic are packed with boxes, most of them have a label. She thinks it’s reasonable to “collect” potentially useful or memorable things, and since she takes the time to label and pack them, she sees no problem in it... I, on the other hand, see a BIG problem. It’s literally walls of boxes that take up our entire attic and two thirds of the garage, with a small path in between.

I’ve talked to her many times about giving some things to those who need them. I thought that appealing to her practical side would work, she’s adamant about recycling, so I tried to reason with her that leaving all those things lying in boxes for years without touching them is wasteful, while someone else could be using them. But she has a hard time parting with things, and whenever she needs some old dress from 10 years ago, she’s quick to point out that she has been right to tuck it away…

I’ve tried to share my concerns patiently and lovingly. I’ve tried to set boundaries, the main rule being that we do not keep any of that in the rooms, but she manages to buy bigger boxes and just keeps adding to the piles in the attic, with very rare attempts to get rid of something. That [Miracle] happens once a year during the spring when she unpacks some stuff, puts aside a thing or two, then proclaims that she has no time to sort it all, or that this stuff will certainly be useful for our future kids, or some other excuse… These excuses never come to the core of it, and she would never admit that she has a problem. I kind of knew we were different in that regard when we were getting together. She liked to joke that I’m such a minimalist I’d have no issues living in a barn, as long as there’s Internet and a laptop [which is not entirely untrue]... while she needs all sorts of “comfort things”, even when those are stuck in boxes or gathering dust in the garage.

Whenever I try to covertly throw anything shoddy away, we have a tantrum. Usually, she does not notice it immediately, and I’m sure if she didn’t adamantly label her boxes, she would never notice. She does not need those things! But the last time I dared to get rid of all her old magazines in one go [I needed more space in the garage], she noticed it three months later, and we spent days exchanging angry looks and reproaches, while I was lectured about all the reasons why I should have asked her first and why she needed those old worthless magazines...

What are my options? I understand that I can’t change her, but I don’t want her to get worse, like the old ladies that bring all sorts of junk into the house. I had a crazy thought to move to another place before we get married, just for the sake of decluttering and packing all the stuff we have [some of it could “get lost” before it gets to us]. But we haven’t yet fully paid off the loan for this house, and my pragmatic side tells me this will be a very costly solution. Perhaps someone could advise better ways to discard of old things without getting into another fight? Thanks.