THE BACKSTORY

Like most people, I’ve always tried to attain the best possible quality of life for myself. Looking back on my life now, I can confidently say that I have made outstanding progress over the years. I did what others had deemed to be impossible: I beat The Incurable. I challenged Pure OCD, anxiety, and my reliance on prescription pills and came out victorious. The progress I’ve made can be attributed mainly to my understanding and acceptance of my unique personality and the ways I found to navigate life with it.

I owned my shortcomings and discovered a way to integrate them as harmoniously as possible into my way of living, which I can now do despite my challenges. I really found a way to do the impossible and live without the weight of these illnesses dragging me down; what’s more, I found a way to beat them!

I beat pure OCD, which to this day is thought to be an incurable condition. The realization that helped me to achieve this victory is that all people who suffer from OCD and anxiety (or just one of the two) live in a perpetual state of fear. That fear is the leading cause of the problems they are facing. The medical industry will have sufferers believe that their conditions trigger their fear and drive their anxiety when in reality, fear is actually causing these mental illnesses. I’m here to tell you the truth that I uncovered on my own journey to healing: that you can heal and live a normal life without these problems. It is possible for you to overcome your fears and live a life of freedom.

I suffered quite a lot of trauma during my childhood and I was not spared the resulting issues that plagued my life. Just like the experience of a person feeling a bug crawling on their skin, I felt this when the fear set in and changes started happening in my mind. Initially, I tried to shake off these feelings, along with the new unhealthy habits I was developing, but it quickly became obvious that a problem was building up within me, ready to implode. As a young man with a daughter to take care of, I knew I had to be intentional about my wellbeing so that I could not only be there for her, but also continue to be of sound mind.

As I look back on my life, I can recognize not only how far I have come, but also identify the trauma that started me on my dark road. The truth is that I was not always as happy and grateful as I am now. My childhood trauma left an indelible mark on my life. From the tender age of five, while my friends were enjoying their childish games and basking in radiant innocence, I was being sexually abused, over and over. What made the situation so much worse was that my abuser was known to me. She was an older girl in my church group and a close friend of my family. This innocent-looking girl would tell jokes with my father, share some girl talk with my mother and still have the heart to sexually abuse me every Sunday while we were at church!

I loved this girl with all my heart – so much so that when I was 5 years old, I wrote a note to her that said “I love you.” I was so excited to let her know how I felt and to find out if she felt the same. After reading my note, she then pulled me away from the church group, took me into a closet in another room and persuaded me that loving her meant that I would have to please her. I distinctly remember how sick this made me feel. I was just a five year old boy, expressing my innocent feelings, and in turn, she took advantage of me and altered the outcome of my life forever. She convinced me that we would both get in big trouble if I told anyone what she was doing to me. I became terrified by her assurances that bad things would happen to me if I spoke out. This was my first experience with the all-encompassing fear that would accompany me for the rest of my life.

Although I was young and innocent, a part of my juvenile mind knew that what my abuser was doing to me was wrong and that I should tell my parents about it, but I could not bring myself to say anything to anybody. I was just a kid — how was I supposed to explain what was happening to me? And even if I did speak up, who would have believed that such an angelic, Christian girl was capable of committing such sinful acts in the first place?

I stayed silent about my ongoing abuse for a long time, until I finally mustered up the courage to speak about it. I had just turned nine when I decided to tell my father everything. Unfortunately, the act of speaking up turned out to be one of my greatest regrets. Instead of supporting me, my father told me that I just had to get over it. What was worse, I was left alone again with my abuser the very next Sunday, and for every Sunday that followed from there. I remember praying to Jesus in the altar room as my abuser continued to violate me. I would literally endure abuse under the icons of saints who watched on, motionless, as I begged them to save me. This cycle of abuse continued for six more years until I finally had the strength at age fifteen to tell my abuser to stop on my own. However, I would never forget my father’s instructions to “get over it”, and that singular piece of advice shaped the way that I approached every challenge that followed in the coming years.

My father had always been my idol and his inaction in the face of my abuse crushed my spirit as a child. I always thought my father was my protector; for crying out loud, he was a professional WWE wrestler who once wrestled with Andre The Giant! He, of all people, should have protected me in my time of need. I don’t think my father ever confronted my abuser or told anyone about my confession. It was bad enough that he did not do anything to prevent the abuse from the very beginning, but even after he found out, he still did nothing. I felt that I had no other choice, so I took my father’s advice and I did what I could to get over the ordeal. When I started experiencing intrusive thoughts later in my life, I could not help but think that the seeds of my suffering had been planted when I first experienced this trauma as a child.

Where some children in my situation might have found an escape from their tragic circumstances by throwing themselves into their schoolwork, I was not so lucky. In addition to the sexual abuse I was subjected to as a child, I also received my fair share of racial and physical abuse at school. I suppose it didn’t help that my family had a Middle Eastern background, although we are actually from Greece. I looked different from most of the kids in my school and they made sure that I remained an outsider by excluding me from social gatherings and friend groups. My history of abuse made it difficult for me to relate to my peers, so I remained a lonely introvert with no real friends to speak of.

The only way that I found to channel my frustrations and emotions was through my sports and academic activities. Without friends or home comforts to distract me, I threw myself into every sport I could and, in time, became a highly skilled football player and swimmer. It wasn’t long before I had gained a reputation as an able sportsman, but sadly even the fame I gained from my sporting triumphs wasn’t enough to fix my oddity. It seemed like I was destined to be a misfit kid who was disliked by everyone. In fact, the only people who seemed willing to hang out with me at school were other kids of color, an idea my father was strongly opposed to.

In my freshman year, I decided that it was time for me to join the school football team. I already knew that the other kids on the team didn’t like me but I reckoned that my exceptional sporting abilities would make up for that. Sadly, the dislike quickly turned to hatred when the rest of the football team saw how much better I was than them at their own sport. In their minds, it must have seemed crazy that a “non-American nobody” could just waltz onto the field and steal their shine. Rumors started to circulate that members of the football team were planning to corner me and beat me up on the night of the school dance. When I heard these rumors, I decided it was time for me to stand up to these bullies once and for all.

True to the rumors, the night of the school dance led to an ambush. I made the first move by confronting one of the boys on the team outright. They made me walk away from the school with them, to a field across the street. As we walked, I repeatedly told the boy that I didn’t want to fight with him or anyone else, but my words fell on deaf ears. By the time we reached the meeting place where the other boys were waiting, it became clear to me that all of them were looking for a fight. I had walked straight into their trap.

The boys started by taking turns to taunt and ridicule me in an attempt to get me to throw the first punch. I stuck to my convictions and repeated that I did not want to fight them and asked them to leave me alone. Of course, my refusal to engage in a fight did not sit well with my tormentors and within minutes they all jumped on me. This seemed like the inevitable conclusion of their plan that night, and no matter how many times I revisit the scenario in my mind, I am always assured that there is nothing that I could have done to prevent what happened next.

My ambushers were six-to-eight strong and physically fit boys from the football team. I never stood a chance against them. There and then they proceeded to beat me to a bloody pulp, punching me in the face and stomach, kicking me all over, and throwing me around like a ragdoll. I was beaten so badly that there was blood all over my clothes and shoes. The beating continued for a good 15 to 20 minutes.

Before my vision grew blurry from the assault of punches, I distinctly remember seeing people standing around the fight in a circle, watching as it happened. I kept calling for help, hoping against hope that someone would step in and make it stop, but I was disappointed. The jubilant crowd of kids stood around and watched as I was pummelled and not one individual lifted a finger to save me. In their minds this must have seemed like a typical Royal Rumble grudge match, with them gathered around the action as eager spectators but never participants in my fate. Even my so-called allies, the other children of color, stood by and watched me get beaten.

The strangest part of this incident was that all these strong boys with their six-eight-man effort could not accomplish their goal of knocking me out(this is what saved my life). Despite their best efforts and the fact that I was bloody and bruised all over, I was at no point helplessly unconscious. Perhaps I truly was my wrestling father’s son after all.

The assault eventually concluded when my attackers lost the will and energy to keep beating me down. I learned later in life that the act of beating takes as much energy from the beater as it does from the beaten. By the end of the ordeal, the boys were as spent as I was and barely clutching onto the strings of consciousness. I managed to drag myself away from them and back to the school premises unaided by anyone. All the while, I could hear the taunting jeers of my attackers and their audience of spectators following me. Somehow, I managed to drag myself, one foot after the other, back to safety. All the while, my tears brought joy and laughter to those who had assaulted me so viciously.

This incident brought home to me that no matter how good and talented you are, certain people will always see the color of your skin first and use that as a measure to judge you. I am lucky that I survived this outright assault at such a tender age, otherwise I may have simply become another victim of a minority murder. The fact that I could rely on no one to help me in my moment of crisis only deepened the well of fear that I was already carrying inside me, and the effects of this fear stayed with me for the rest of my life.

From this point onwards, I became afraid of everything. I lived in fear that I might have contracted AIDS from the blood in the fight, even though I knew the blood was my own. I was afraid to be among my peers at school. I was constantly afraid of being attacked again. I was afraid to go to church.

Fear became the ruling emotion in my life, and I existed in a state of constant anxiety and panic. I was as afraid of the color of my skin as I was of the bullies that crowded my nightmares. This fear grew and grew until I was overcome with thoughts (thoughts that went against my moral compass) thoughts of harming the people I loved.

Slowly but surely, I was becoming afraid of myself and the person I was becoming.

The Struggle

To put things bluntly, my mind was in a whirlwind. I was incapable of feeling normal. My dreams were warped and my intrusive thoughts were out of control. At this point my inability to suppress my thoughts became a real problem for me. I still wasn’t sure if there was anything wrong with me; I only knew that I had these thoughts and no way of controlling them.

Before I was finally self-diagnosed with Pure OCD, I imagined that what I was going through might be some form of schizophrenia, but instead of hearing voices, I had all sorts of thoughts in my head. Beyond simply making me feel terrible about myself, these intrusive thoughts made me afraid for my first daughter’s safety, I would have thoughts about harming and even murdering my child, and I became fearful that I could not trust myself around her.

No parent should ever have to feel this way. To make matters worse, I could not tell anyone that I was having these intrusive thoughts. I knew without a doubt that I badly needed help, but I could not afford to ask for it. Why? Because I was afraid that owning up to my thoughts would cause me to be considered unfit to be a parent and that my daughter would be taken away from me as a result. My biggest fear at that time was that someone would deem me an unfit father, take my daughter from me, lock me up and throw away the key!

The intrusive thoughts increased in severity around the time that my first daughter was born, and even though this was meant to be a joyful time in my life, I couldn’t be around her as much as I wanted to be. I lived in fear of the day that I would act on my thoughts and harm her in some way. To keep her safe from myself, I made the choice to stay as far away from her as I could. I left my wife and newborn daughter and walked out of their lives with no explanation. I kept trying to convince myself that I was acting for the greater good and that my decision would ensure my family’s safety. It was the most lonely and miserable time of my life, but I pushed through because I was convinced that they would be better off without me.

I didn’t just feel like I was crazy, I knew I was.

The WALL

My intrusive thoughts grew louder, scarier, more harmful and more persistent as the days passed. Soon, they were all I could think of. It was like a switch had been flipped somewhere in my mind. I went from not having intrusive thoughts to not being able to stop them.  They were completely uncontrollable and before long I became severely agoraphobic. I concentrated so hard on isolating myself from everyone and everything that eventually I could barely leave the house. I was scared to be in public or around anyone. Not only did I isolate myself but I also started harming myself in different ways. My mind went through so much stress in that period, when all I could think about was how to stop thinking.

Isn’t it true that misery loves company? Instead of receding, my thoughts became much worse in the depth of my despair. Severe depression followed, as might be expected. My body went into survival mode and I existed in a perpetual fight-or-flight state for the next 24 years. I had truly hit rock bottom.

Imagine having thoughts about sexually abusing or even killing your children, family members, even your friends. Imagine having these thoughts all day until you went to bed. These thoughts come out of nowhere and continue for every moment that you are awake. The torture is endless. This was my reality every day.

My thoughts never took a break. Despite my efforts to control myself, I told myself the harsh truth: my responsibility as a family man was done. It was simply not in the cards for me to sit down at breakfast with my daughters or kiss them good night. I was doomed to be alone for the rest of my life, with my weird and intrusive thoughts as my only companions. I was the prisoner and the warden in my own prison. It was pure torture.

My downward spiral continued and as a result I started to feel pain, both mental and physical. I developed severe pain in my lower back, so I turned to street drugs to escape my thoughts and the physical pain I was feeling. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t help. I still experienced my pain and thoughts, and so, while continuing to use street drugs, I would go to the doctors. These doctors would then prescribe me opiates for my pain and benzos for my anxiety.

I ended up abusing street drugs up until the age of 35. I was married multiple times, the last time being shortly after I quit the street drugs at 35.

After ditching street drugs, I continued to use my prescription pills as prescribed by my doctor. I soon discovered that prescription drugs are very similar to street drugs: heroin is an opioid made from the opiate morphine and benzos have a similar mechanism of action as alcohol. The prescription pills also came with miserable side effects, even deadly ones,  exactly like the street drugs did. It took me a long time to cut my ties with prescription pills, but I eventually succeeded and gave up on taking all forms of drugs when I was 44 years old. It was at this point that my life finally started to take a turn for the better.

The EPHINANY

Nowadays, when people are feeling unwell, they turn to Google to look up their symptoms before they consult a doctor. Because my mind was so warped and full of intrusive thoughts, and because the internet had not been so popular in my early youth, this idea did not occur to me until 2012. I was 38 years old at that time.

I finally mustered up the courage to look up my symptoms online. I remember searching for “thoughts about killing my wife.” These were the thoughts that I was experiencing at the time that disturbed me the most. To my surprise, I found a couple of websites that mentioned a few of the symptoms that I had experienced. One of these websites I found explained my symptoms to me in detail. I had recurrent thoughts that were both intrusive and inappropriate and these were referred to as obsessions. My obsessions were the reason for my anxiety. According to the website, I developed repetitive physical and mental behaviors, called compulsions, to ease the anxiety. Finally, this site gave me a name for what I was experiencing: Pure OCD.

Before I found the courage to begin this search – and believe me, it took a truckload of courage – I remember thinking that if I were to search for my symptoms online, then internet providers would know what I had searched and they would contact the authorities. I would then be certified as crazy and thrown somewhere to suffer in isolation until I died. Nevertheless, I decided that I was done being shackled by my own thoughts, so I pushed through my fear and took the first step towards my enlightenment and recovery.

That single step was what changed my course forever. I realized I was not crazy after all and that there were others out there who were facing the same challenges as me!

From my findings on the internet, I realized that it was possible for me to live a life without worrying about my thoughts and burying my symptoms with excessive drug use. I could get a grip on my thoughts and maybe even live a life of normalcy. I also learned that I did not need a psychiatrist or prescription drugs to mask the symptoms. I just needed to focus on mastering my thought patterns and fears and then I could return to living a normal life with my family.

What OCD sufferers need to understand is that anxiety and OCD are a result of living in fear. The good news is that fear can be easily treated. The medical industry will have you believe the opposite. They prefer for you to think that you will need to be on medicine and therapy for the rest of your life. This is not the truth and this is why I’ve come up with Beat Pure OCD™.

As a result of my epiphany, I started to taper off the prescribed opiates that I was taking for my back pain, which itself was a result of the trauma I had experienced earlier. I was gradually able to break free from my addiction and it felt so much better to be alive. It felt good not to be dependent anymore. It felt good to finally be free.

The Plan

The most honorable thing you can do once you have gone through something terrible and learned your lessons from it is to create awareness and share those lessons with others. I planned to tell as many people as I could about the lessons learned from my experiences with Pure OCD. For the entirety of my ordeal, the biggest challenge I had to overcome was this four-letter word — FEAR.

Fear does a whole lot to a person and its effects manifest from the inside out. Fear creates the thoughts in our minds and subsequently translates as trauma in our bodies. Fear deteriorates our mental health. With the severity of anxiety I experienced came intrusive thought processes that created further pain and trauma in my body. Even when I started to feel better, I still believed that the drugs did not necessarily help with my healing. What’s more, the side effects of those drugs nearly killed me.

So, I started telling the world my “conspiracy theory”:  that we did not need to live the way we were told to and that we had the power to set ourselves free. I spent years making YouTube videos focused on how Big Pharma companies were profiting off the pain of those suffering. People didn’t understand what I was trying to communicate and many of them called me crazy. As a result, I quit making YouTube videos and deleted my channel.

It took a while for me to realize that I was not totally honest with myself and others. At that point I was still using Benzodiazepine because I was afraid of going through the withdrawal process. I realized that I was preaching something that I was too afraid to practice, and that was wrong of me.

The CONFLICT

Benzodiazepines are a group of central nervous system depressants that are commonly used to treat anxiety, insomnia, and seizures. These benzos, as they are often called, are among the most commonly prescribed medications in the country. My doctors put me on Klonopin, a Benzodiazepine, almost 17 years ago to ease my anxiety from my intrusive thoughts. I didn’t have to tell the doctors what was wrong with me, mainly because I couldn’t express my thoughts clearly enough, but they could tell I was in a state of panic all the time. They told me that Klonopin would act as a miracle drug, which, given my circumstances back then, sounded like a beautiful dream. I never even thought to question the potential side effects of this “miracle”.

I took my Klonopin exactly as I was instructed by my doctor: the right dosage at the right times, with no deviation whatsoever. I was desperate for a change. I knew that committing to Klonopin would mean that I would be entering a new phase that was even harder than the opiates, but I initially did not mind. I so badly wanted relief from my thoughts. It wasn’t until the side effects started that I realized just what I had signed up for.

I experienced a living nightmare that included anxiety, insomnia, irritability, restlessness, hand tremors, muscle spasms, headaches, sweating, a racing pulse, hyperventilation, nausea and vomiting, aches and pains, panic attacks, hypersensitivity to stimuli like light and touch, abnormal bodily sensations like skin-crawling and goosebumps, depression, problems with concentration and memory, visual disturbances, auditory and visual hallucinations, feelings of unreality and delirium.

What I was going through sounded like a prescription pill commercial insert. It was a nightmare, just like the opiates. And yet, my doctors assured me that this incredible list of side effects was “completely normal”.

The Achievement

I became so frustrated with endless medications and side effects that I decided to free myself from the benzos that were creating more devastation than good in my life. I moved to the Grand Tetons to heal myself from the effects of years of chemicals on my body and to focus on beating my Pure OCD.

Once we arrived in the Grand Tetons, the universe presented me with an unexpected gift. The doctors there would not prescribe any benzos for me for the sake of detoxing. Thankfully, I always kept a pretty big stash of pills from times when I tried to taper off prescribed benzos in the past. I had enough pills to gradually taper off the benzos for over a year and a half. I was lucky that I had these as back-ups. If I had gone by the doctors’ tapering schedule, it would have lasted only a month and more than likely I would have died as a result of the detox process. I’m still feeling the effects of this detox a year later.

I was inspired to call the method that I invented to detoxify from all my issues – benzos, intrusive thoughts, OCD and the big one, FEAR – Beat Pure OCD™. In my mind, I thought that if I could create a system that would make it possible for me to help others that are perhaps going through the same experiences while also teaching them how to live a much better life, then all my suffering would have been worth it. If I could develop a program that could address all of these issues in a single week instead of a year, then I would be really happy!

After I slowly tapered off my drugs and allowed my mind to heal while spending time with the animals in the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone National Parks, I created Beat Pure OCD™.

Since I can now live a life without intrusive thoughts, anxiety and fear, I believe it is time for me to reach out and share Beat Pure OCD™ with other thought warriors like me.

By using Beat Pure OCD™, I was able to achieve the following:

  1. I have healthy and wonderful relationships with my family and especially my children
  2.  I freed myself from the opiates and benzos that were making me both mentally and physically sick
  3. I spend most of my time surrounded by wildlife while enjoying the beautiful Yellowstone landscapes
  4.  I finally rid myself of panic and anxiety associated with intrusive thoughts, anxiety, depression and Pure OCD
  5. I am living a life of freedom and I am happy for the first time in 40 years.
  6. I learned how to deal with my anxiety and stress by doing what I love in the company of Mother Nature.
  7. I am now able to help others to achieve the healing and remission that they so richly deserve

The Transformation

The truth about drugs is that, no matter how promising they might seem, they are still perceived as toxins by our bodies. This occurs even when you take prescription drugs exactly as directed, just like I did. The side effects of these drugs can be truly devastating. Did the prescriptions help me in some way? I guess. They kept me numb, just like alcohol and heroin did when I was still using them. Would I prefer to continue using drugs instead of using the Beat Pure OCD™ method? Absolutely not!

Beat Pure OCD™ is just such a beautiful and therapeutic method and I’m incredibly glad that I could harness it for my healing. After creating Beat Pure OCD™ and beating my Pure OCD, I have been able to return to a normal state of living and, best of all, spend more time with my family. My days of living in a state of fight-or-flight anxiety and being dependent on prescription drugs are finally behind me.

Above all else, I feel so much better and happier and I look forward to greeting each new day with enthusiasm. I beat mental illness. I beat the incurable. I took on the biggest challenge of my life and I won my freedom back!

This is a very long shot from what I used to be. Speaking from the position of someone with first-hand experience in these matters, I can boldly tell you that it is possible to live a life without anxiety, depression, OCD and prescription pills. You, too, can now do away with these ailments quickly and effectively by simply using a proven process and a unique set of tools. These processes and tools, which teach you how to rid yourself of the fear that causes mental illness, are yours for the taking, thanks to the desire of one desperate mind to change.

In the end, the greatest part of my healing is that I am now able to help a lot more people to achieve their dream of living a life without anxiety, depression, OCD and of course, fear. I’m able to prevent people from spending years caged in their own bodies, living in fear and dependent on pills, just watching as life passes them by while they waste away. By extension, I am also able to prevent separation in families as a result of conditions and circumstances like the ones I was facing. If I’m honest, I don’t think anything gives me as much fulfillment as this thought.

I urge you to take back control of your life today. Like the old me, I’m sure that you feel trapped by your own intrusive thoughts, anxiety or OCD. There is no prison worse or more frustrating than the one created in your own mind.

Thankfully, I have seen the light that is Beat Pure OCD™ and I can help you to escape that prison if you let me.

You no longer have to live this way. 😀

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