"Stop being a baby, Lily. You're nine, you don't need me to tell you some stupid fairytale to go to sleep," I snapped at my younger sibling.

She didn't say anything but she turned on her side so her back was now facing me—a telltale sign that she was crying and didn't want me to see.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you, it's just really late and I'm really tired," I mumbled, immediately feeling guilty.

She didn't move a muscle. I watched as she inhaled and exhaled deeply, knowing that she was pretending to be asleep. She wasn't fooling me, but I decided to do what she obviously wanted and go, closing the door softly behind me.

I sighed. I really didn't mean to snap. I just don't see how she can continue to believe in fairy tales when our life is so far from one. Our parents died in a car accident when I was 9 and Lily was only 2. Since then, I've been forced to take on the role of a parent; working as much as I can after school and on weekends, and telling Lily a bedtime story every night just like Mom used to.

It doesn't seem fair sometimes, having to be responsible and take care of Lily as my friends go to parties and do whatever a regular teenager does. But I've rarely complained, knowing that Lily has had it much worse than me. I had nearly a decade with my parents; she had maybe one-fifth of that, the majority of it she can barely remember.

Lately though, balancing school, my job as a barista at Starbucks, and my role of a parent has become a lot more challenging than it was in the past. I used to produce an essay in like 30 minutes (no pre-planning or editing) and get an A regardless. Now, I'll start working on an essay and 60 minutes will pass, and I'll catch myself stuck on the introduction, rewriting the same first paragraph over and over again. It's like I know I need to move on, but I feel like I need to get the wording just right, and the only way to shake off the nagging feeling that the wording is off is to keep rewriting it until it feels right.

Or I'll be making a drink for a customer, and I'll get this nagging feeling that I had fucked up and keep throwing away and remaking the drink until I'm positive I've followed every step of the recipe flawlessly. I'm lucky my boss, Sydney, is very sympathetic or I'll probably be fired by now for wasting ingredients and taking forever to make just one drink so everyone else has to pick up my slack. And it's like I know I need to stop but when I don't give in to the urge, I get really anxious and keep obsessing about it despite the customer being long gone by then.

Thinking of Sydney...when I had mentioned what was going on, she said it seemed like I was experiencing some symptoms of some kind of mental illness, what was it? ODC? Anyway, she said her son (who is diagnosed with it) is now on medication and has therapy weekly, and his symptoms are improving, and that she definitely advises me to see a therapist too.

Obviously, I can't afford to see a therapist..any kind of medical care is insanely expensive when you haven't got insurance. When I said that, she said her son's therapist had suggested this site, 7 Cups of Tea, as a useful resource for additional support. This was maybe a week ago, and I had been hoping this ODC will just go away on its own...but it hasn't. If anything, it's just became worse. So maybe it doesn't hurt to give that site a shot.

Walking into my room and grabbing my school Chromebook, I plopped myself on my bed, cringing as it squeaked in protest. Like the majority of things in this house, it was sorely in need of replacing, but we had no money to spare for upgrades.

I googled "7 Cups of Tea" and sighed as it took forever to load. Ah, yes, our WiFi plan. Something else in need of upgrading. Finally, the site loaded and I clicked on "Login/Signup." Typing in all of the necessary info, I typed "IAmSorryLily" for my username and hit "continue," deciding it can serve as a constant reminder why I need to get rid of this ODC—so I never snap at Lily like that again and so I can give her the amazing life she deserves.

Scanning the site, I clicked "chat" curiously. Two choices popped up—one to talk to a "trained volunteer listener," and one to talk to a therapist, something that you obviously need to pay for. I chose the first one and it opened up a chat window with someone named "KitKatKiss" who had a profile picture of someone carrying a sign that said "hope."

KitKatKiss: Hi!
Me: hi!
KitKatKiss: What brings you to 7 Cups today?
Me: um someone advised me to see a therapist for ODC or smth and I can't afford to see a therapist so she suggested I come to this site
KitKatKiss: I'm sorry you can't afford to see a therapist, I imagine that's really frustrating. I think by ODC you mean OCD, obsessive-compulsive disorder, right? Can you tell me a bit about why you think you've got OCD?

Oh, so it's OCD, not ODC. I really am stupid. I proceeded to explain what had been going on recently, opening up quickly as they seemed very sympathetic and genuinely interested in what I had to say. They finally said they had to go, but sent me a link to an OCD guide. They also said I can always send a message whenever I need somebody to talk to, and they'll reply as soon as they can.

I was shocked when I glanced at the clock—we had started talking at 10:30 PM and it was 11:16 now. A complete stranger had just wasted 46 minutes on me, listening as I unloaded all of my crazy. I've never thought of myself as particularly cynical, but the pure kindness of this individual honestly surprised me. It's been so long since I can really vent to someone else, not needing to be scared if they are going to judge me for what I say.

Clicking the link to the guide, I started reading. First, it said to think about one of the obsessions I'm having (feeling like everything needs to be "just right,") and what it makes me feel (anxious.) Then, to identify what compulsions I do due to the feeling (redoing things and rewriting things,) and if doing the compulsions give me a sense of relief (yes, it does.) Finally, it said to think about if I'm avoiding some situations, places, and/or people due to this cycle.

I had to think about that last one for a bit. Originally, I didn't think I did, but then I realized I've been putting off writing essays until the last minute recently, and I never used to do that. I've also started hating my job at Starbucks and I was originally very excited when I had got this job. At $16 an hour, the pay is really good compared to my past jobs, and I'm sure everyone can agree that making drinks is a lot more enjoyable than washing dishes. I can't exactly be avoiding writing essays or my job if I wanna graduate and stay off the streets, but if the consequences weren't so dire, I'm sure I'd be doing everything I can to do so.

Continuing reading the guide, it said starting now, when I feel the urge to do a compulsion, to not do it and tolerate the anxiety. According to the guide, the anxiety does not last forever and if you continue to ignore the compulsion, the anxiety will slowly reduce until you no longer feel the need to do the compulsion. It seemed logical, but it was also scary as fuck. What if I can't do it? What if I'm not strong enough fight this thing?

I thought about what it will be like always being a slave to my OCD, the nightmare it's made my life and the nightmare it'll continue to make my life if I don't do anything, using the nightmare of an idea to force myself to ignore my doubts. On the next page, the guide also said I can practice delaying or shortening the ritual at first, something that seemed a lot more doable. I had an analytical essay on The Outsiders due in two days that I hadn't even started. Since I typically end up obsessing about just the intro for like 60 minutes, I'll limit myself to 20 minutes to complete the introduction paragraph and then go to bed.

Deciding this was a good plan, I skimmed over the remaining pages of the guide quickly. It provided a list of helpful thoughts you can use to challenge OCD thoughts that I took a screenshot of. Closing the tab, I opened up Google Docs, started a timer for 20 minutes, and proceeded to type my hook:

Does it come as a surprise that the divorce rate of America's richest billionaires (49%) is in-line with the rate of the average citizen (40% to 50%)?

No, that doesn't look right. Maybe I need to get rid of the parentheses.

Does it come as a surprise that the divorce rate of America's richest billionaires, at 49%, is in-line with the 40% to 50% rate of the average citizen?

Okay, I'm going to keep that. Rereading the sentence, I groaned. I used "the" three times in one sentence, that's unacceptable. Deep inside, I knew it was highly unlikely I'd be deducted points for it, and it was more important to make sure I finish writing the intro in the 20 minutes I had allotted myself, but I decided to ignore that logical part of myself. Correcting the mistake was only going to take a minute anyway.

Does it come as a surprise that the divorce rate of America's richest billionaires, at 49%, is in-line with an average citizen's rate of 40% to 50%?

Finally. Also, is "that" really necessary in the sentence? And why did I make it so lengthy? The longer a sentence is, the more prone it is to mistakes. Oh, and didn't Ms. Lee say to score the full 4 points, you need an "advanced" hook—an interesting fact or quotation?

I glanced at the timer. I had spent 10 minutes just on the hook now. Deleting the whole sentence and thinking of a new "advanced" hook wasn't a possibility if I wanted to complete the intro in the 10 minutes I had left. I looked at the list of helpful thoughts I had taken a screenshot of. You need to move on, Annalisa. It's okay to make mistakes; no one is 100% perfect.

Panic rose inside of me as I hit the spacebar and made a vain attempt to move on to the next sentence, my heart pounding loudly. I started sweating as it got worse and worse, feeling like I was drowning. "I take it back. This is not logical. This is like fucking self-torture," I said to no one in particular.

Despite what I said, the stubborn part of me decided there was no fucking way I was giving in to the rising panic and deleting stupid first sentence, and making this all be for nothing. I stood up and began pacing, doing my best to focus on my breathing. Inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 4 seconds, exhale for 4 seconds, hold for 4 seconds, repeat, I said to myself like a mantra, recalling something I had once read about box breathing.

To my surprise, the panic slowly subsided as I continued to do this. When the timer finally went off, it was nearly completely gone. I was disappointed I hadn't gotten anywhere near to meeting my goal, but maybe I had been a bit too ambitious at the start. Reducing it slowly, maybe by 10 minutes at first, would've been a lot smarter. And I did manage to not do the compulsion; that part was a huge win.

. . . . .

"Once upon a time..." I began, proceeding to tell Lily a tale of a prince killing a dragon to save his beloved, the princess. When I finally got to the happy ending, the prince and princess being reunited and living happily ever after, Lily was fast asleep and snoring softly.

Smiling at her tiny figure curled up in the blankets, I shut the door softly. In the past, I saw having to tell Lily a bedtime story every night as a tedious responsibility, but now I was finding myself enjoying the stories as much as she did.

It's been 2 months since I first visited 7 Cups of Tea, and the difference it has made in my life surprises even me. The idea the guide introduced of the anxiety of not doing a compulsion slowly reducing when you continue to ignore the compulsion and tolerate the anxiety, also known as a type of exposure therapy, was surprisingly accurate. As distressing as it was at first and the fact that OCD can never really be cured, it rarely gets in the way of my life anymore and I've been following the page on "maintaining gains" in the guide to make sure it stays this way.

I also signed up as a listener on the site. It feels amazing knowing that I might've made a positive impact on someone's life whenever I volunteer, and listening to what everyone is going through really makes me grateful for everything I've got—it's not a lot, but it's more than some people do.

I used to see fairy tales as stupid stories that gave kids unrealistic expectations about life. Now I know fairy tales are more than true. Not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons—just like my OCD, or any kind of mental illness—can be beaten.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, it'd make me very happy if you voted and took a look at my other book, Solitary :3 For anyone curious, 7 Cups of Tea is a REAL site. That said, the chat between the MC and KitKatKiss is COMPLETELY fictional and made up by me. The OCD guide is NOT fictional and any of its content mentioned in the story belongs to 7 Cups. It is an amazing site for emotional support, and I encourage anyone interested to take a look at the site.