I’ve been struggling with a diagnosis lately, as I often do when I see new doctors or am tackling new health conditions. I started seeing a new therapist, which is something that I’ve always struggled with. But I was at my lowest point, so as a last-ditch effort, I went to the one my psychiatrist recommended in the office. Turns out, she’s great. I struggled a lot with going the first time, but my husband came and sat in the car for my first appointment and reminded me I could leave at any time. (I love him so much). So I went. And I’m glad I did.
The first appointment went great, but there came the question: What are you diagnosed with? And it’s a simple question, one that by no means should cause any pause. It’s necessary. But for me, I don’t feel like mine fit me all the time. I feel like I have to explain them because I not only have several mental illnesses, but I also suffer from narcolepsy and have heart problems. She told me that it seemed like my biggest struggle at the moment was my OCD and the intrusive thoughts I was having. This was like a puzzle in my brain that clicked. OH, the intrusive thoughts, the compulsions, it all fell into place.
But I’ve been obsessing about all my diagnoses since then, which kind of made me think and get sucked into a bit of a rabbit hole. Diagnoses were always, and are still, important to me. They are my way to find other people who can relate. They let me research my problems myself and find out more about them. It helps me to understand. Which is incredibly important for me. I have always needed to know the reasons behind things. I feel like if I could just understand my brain better, then I could learn how to cope and deal with my problems. I could be prepared. Since I was a kid, I have always asked why. And when I got tired of hearing “You’ll understand when you are older”, I just stopped asking. But I would obsess over it until I figured out more about it.
Tonight, I was talking to my husband about my intrusive thoughts and just wanting to understand, and I was frustrated. He reminded me of something: I can’t put myself in a box. So I stopped him and wrote a note in my notebook… And that was enough to get me to stop obsessing. I don’t know exactly what he meant by it, but my takeaway was to stop trying to label everything. I’m never going to understand everything. And as most doctors I’ve ever dealt with have said, I’m a difficult case.
That said, I appreciate the diagnosis I have been given, because they do help me educate myself and connect with others. They help me with medicine options and narrowing down the things that work and don’t work for me. Hopefully, one day, I’ll find all the pieces to the puzzle that is me. But I need to remember to accept myself where I am. And today, I’m stepping outside of the box I’ve been trying to label. I’m ending on a good note.
- M. Drella
Publication note Originally on Medium ([October 2025]). This is the canonical version.