I escaped the cage and found freedom from the wood pellets and stale feeder food. Maybe certain people tried to look for me; maybe they didn't. I didn't care. I was a hamster with a plan. I came to a fork, took the road less traveled and began running like my life depended on it (and hey, maybe it did).
My OCD convinced me that when I walked into a room, those people were talking about me, and I knew it. It forces me to revisit the same distressing ideas day after day with no reprieve. It isolated me and made me irritable. I lashed out at those I loved, oftentimes irreparably so. The spread of misinformation is harmful to us all, and we should seek to understand before we label.