Throughout one’s career on The Feather, the senior column stands as the finish line for the years-long dash that is journalism. It is in this last article that veterans and newbies alike are allowed to provide commentary on any subject that intrigues them, granted that they reflect upon their high school experience in some way.

For me, this brought about the question: what the heck do I write my column on? During my three-year stint at The Feather I’ve written articles about social experiments, my political opinions and how a literal fire led to a spiritual one. With so many pieces featured on our little paper, I felt as if I had nothing else to say.

After a couple days of mulling it over — with graduation, all the while, rapidly approaching — I finally decided I would share a side of myself that not many people know about. This is a constant that I’ve learned to deal with over the course of my life, and has, more than anything I can think of, worked to define the person I am.

You see, I was born with several medical and behavioral health problems, which include anxiety, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and oral Sensory Integration Dysfunction (SID). From a very early age these issues progressed within my psyche, eventually commencing a rampage that would last throughout a large part of my childhood.

As far as I know, everything started when I was a baby, as SID played a key part in my development. For simplicity’s sake, the way I always explain it is that certain textures and feelings set off alarms in my brain that make me believe I’m in danger. Because of this constant, subconscious peril, I barely ate for the first 18 months of my life — it was at that point that I was diagnosed — which led to several issues with my maturation. To this day my doctor’s and parents still joke that, for my first few years, I completely made up my own growth chart.

Though I was able to work through the majority of my problems with SID, by that time in my life another psychological monster was assaulting my existence: OCD.

From TV shows like Monk and Scrubs OCD might seem like an amusing condition where someone does something repetitive for no apparent reason. While I can see this as being true from the broadest, most unexperienced perspective imaginable, I can tell you from experience there’s nothing entertaining about the disease.

Living with OCD is like being trapped in a mental hell that’s impossible to escape from. Day in and day out you’re forced to participate in a twisted game your brain has concocted that nobody else understands. Whether it be touching things an even number of times, declining to eat something because an undesirable object brushed it or searching for merchandise in a store that has to be perfect, your very existence becomes ruled by one simple law: listen to whatever your head tells you no matter how illogical it might seem.

Elementary school proved to be the greatest trail I would experience up to this point. My OCD made it impossible for me to play sports or participate in activities, which, coupled with my anxiety, established me as an outcast by the time I reached 5th grade. With few other options, I was forced to seek help through therapy, where I learned how to control and outgrow my disease.

I guess this is the point in my column where I make a 180-degree turn and talk about how I overcome every obstacle I encountered and developed into an amazing person because of it. Yet, to say this would be a lie, plain and simple. The truth is, I’m flawed. I know I’ll never have my mental illness 100 percent in check, and I think, this year, I’ve finally come to terms with that.

With this, I’ve also realized what exactly my disorder has done for my life. Though I had no way of knowing it at the time, every facet of my mental illness was developing a person who would flourish in high school, given the right opportunities.

Coming out of junior high, I had reinforced my critical thinking skills, but was unable to use them, due to shyness and anxiety. Thankfully, three years of one amazing publication was able to break me out of my shell and force me into instances where I was forced to talk and work amongst people. I owe many, many things to The Feather, but this is, perhaps, the most important one of all.

After all, it is thanks to journalism that I was able to forge long-lasting relationships that I will remember for the rest of my life. I want to express my gratitude to all of these friends, as — though you probably didn’t even realize it — you have all helped me so much with my mental illness over the past few years.

Though I know I’ve still struggled despite these things, it is at FC where I’ve come to realize the strength and grace of God. While I may be anxious and overcome with turmoil at times, as the beginning of Psalm 46:10 states: “He says, ‘Be still and know that I am God…’ (NIV). Over the course of my lifetime, this is the constant I’ve come to know and love.

Senior Nick Avery will attend Whitworth University in Spokane, WA in the fall, where he will double major in English and history.