This is quite a long story, but I would greatly appreciate it if anyone would take the time to read it. About an entire year ago I was as happy as could be. I was about to start my junior year in high school, everything was going to be great. So during the first week of school my friend called me up and we went to go smoke in my car parked in my neighborhood. After I took just TWO hits of the blunts, I started feeling the high, but it was my first time and didn't know what to expect. I felt the need to stand outside my car, because I felt that if I kept breathing in the smoke that I was going to become totally "out of it", and I couldn't do that with my car at risk. I tried opening the door, but for some reason I just couldn't figure it out, and everything really felt weird. Then I started freaking out, and later found out it was a panic attack. I started worrying uncontrollably, insane thoughts were going through my mind. I felt numb and disconnected from my body, I thought maybe I had died in the car and that for the rest of eternity I was going to be stuck in this car with this two "friends" of mind who were high and acting retarded. I honestly could not get myself out of the car, I was immobile, I never even tried opening the door again after the first attempt. I was in pure fear. Even though I didn't really believe in God, I started praying for forgiveness and to get me out of this hell, I was sorry for not believing and all the bad things I had done. After what felt like an eternity, but was apparently only a few minutes, my friend agreed I should go home, but that he was going to drive instead of me because I was so messed up. He drove me to my home, and I managed to make it into my house, and was still suffering from the panic attack. I told my mom what happened and she was angrier than I've ever seen her. She yelled and yelled at me, which made it even worse. I went to my bed and just wanted it to stop, I thought maybe I was going to be crazy for the rest of my life and need medication, I contemplated stabbing myself or taking pills, but I eventually fell asleep. Ever since that day I have never felt completely the same, but I continued on with my life the best I could. I smoked weed twice after that with some actual friends, had a smaller panic attack each time, and made up my mind to not do it anymore, because it just causes panic attacks for me. Throughout the year, I had about 5 other instances where I had panic attacks (all of lesser extents) and MANY times of anxious feelings, all of which I was never under any drug influence. I couldn't understand why this was happening to me, throughout my entire life I've had some social anxiety problems, and during my freshman and sophomore years of high school I taught myself how to be calm and realize that I was simply worrying about stuff that would never happen. I had started to become confident and come out of my shell and now because of that one panic attack, everything was being undone. Throughout the year however, things just never felt the same, I couldn't completely enjoy myself when I hung out with my friends or anything like I used to. So it came to the point where there was one month until school was over, and I was DYING for school to be over, I felt very stressed out about everything and just wanted to enjoy my summer and do all the things I've been wanting to do. Around that time, I was just browsing the internet as usual and came across the topic of Schizophrenia. To satisfy my curiousity, I did some researching about it. I eventually came across a site that explained how schizophrenics often experience these "voices" that start off as nice and eventually become very mean. Just then I had a realization of how horrible that would be. I didn't intentionally try to visualize it, but it just kind of happened; I imagined what it would be like for a counter-opinion on everything I said. Then I started freaking out, having a small panic attack, thinking maybe that's how schizophrenia starts. I told myself that it's just a stupid thought and that it will go away like any other thought, but then a cycle was created. Whenever I realized that I was not thinking about a voice in my head, I would unwillingly quickly imagine a scenario of what a schizophrenic voice would say to me. It was driving me nuts, I couldn't focus on anything, because each time I realized that I was focusing on something I would think about what it would be like to be "crazy". This lasted about a week or two, and it started to finally die down, I was going longer and longer periods without thinking about it. I should also probably mention, that this whole little thing happened not to long after I had done some intense philosophical thinking about reality and what it means, and realized that reality is different for each person. So as these thoughts started to go away, I became curious again about schizophrenia, and thought about looking stuff up about it again, because I found it interesting. So I went online, and found a website that had VERY descriptive accounts of people having schizophrenia. The stories were all VERY intense, and I couldn't believe that I even considered myself being schizophrenic, I had nothing in common with these stories. Pretty much from then on, I realized that I wasn't schizophrenic, but I created a new problem for myself. Every time I did anything that reminded me of the stories I read I would think about being crazy. For example, I read a story where a schizophrenic boy stopped eating anything his parents made him out of fear fear that his parents were poisoning his food. So if I was making my own food or something of that nature, I would unintentionally think of that story, and it bothered me a lot because I have a good imagination and I can completely picture it happening to me. Things like that kept bothering me. I talked to my mom a bit about this, I simply mentioned to her that I was worrying a lot and wanted to see a doctor if it continued. She then mentioned something that I had forgotten a long time ago: when I was young and just starting school, I used to repeat things a lot and never talked to anybody in school, so my mom took me to a psychiatrist and the psychiatrist said the repeating is like OCD, and he said I was having panic attacks when it came to talking to people. He prescribed me Prozac for awhile and that cured everything. I did some research on OCD, and discovered that I had many symptoms of the disorder. I was having unwanted thoughts that wouldn't go away. As I thought about my past, I started to realize that I've most likely had OCD throughout my entire life. I've always obsessed over things, literally, when something interests me I make it my entire life. There has never seemed to be a time in my life where I havn't been obsessed about something. Other things reinforced my self-diagnosis of OCD, such as excessive praying, which I used to do when I believed in God. I would pray every single time I did something bad, or even just thought about doing something bad, and I had to make each prayer in the same format and say it over and over again until it sounded just right. I was glad to know that I probably just had OCD, and that I wasn't really going crazy, but I didn't feel 100% cured. So then summer finally came, and so far it's been 3 weeks. Each day I rarely feel the motivation to do anything, I can't just enjoy my summer, because each time I do something enjoyable I think that I should be spending my time doing something productive to make lots of money so that I can enjoy my future to the fullest. I also spend a lot of time having moments where I'll imagine what it would be like to lose grip of reality and have strange things happen. For example, if I see something out of the corner of my eye and look at it, and it happens to be my cat or something, I'll suddenly imagine what it would be like if it appeared to be a scary face or something stupid like that. I can imagine these things so strongly that it feels like it could happen. I imagine these disturbing situations quite often. Sleeping is the WORST. EVERY single night I have trouble sleeping, and when I do fall asleep, I feel like I dream the entire night. I have extremely vivid dreams where I feel like I'm 100% conscious, and most of them involve me being in very stressful situations. I also wake up many times throughout the night. When I finally do wake up for the final time, I feel exhausted and very depressed. I also think a lot about philosophical things, such as what reality is, what it means, what death is like, and stuff like that. I imagine killing myself a lot, and just ending everything. I believe that life only has meaning if you give it a meaning. I find it difficult to give it meaning, though. I may have made it confusing exactly what I'm experiencing right now, so I'll try to explain it: I keep thinking about how pointless everything is. Although I have occasional moments of relief where I'm doing something I enjoy, the majority of my time is spent being upset. I usually feel better as the day goes on, but then I have to sleep, and the dreams are what I can't stand, I feel as though that if I didn't have dreams that I would be cured. I looked this up, and it sounds like depression, and I also read that depression and OCD and very similar, and treated practically the same. I feel my only hope is to go to a psychiatrist and get some medication to raise that oh so precious serotonin, since it seemed to work so well when I was younger. What do you guys think I should do? What do you think is my problem?