JJ Morgan
ACT 1: “I’VE BECOME A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION”
INT. AMERICAN FORK CANYON, UT—OCT. 15, 2024
JJ, age 21. A young woman attending Brigham Young University,
working towards a BA in the art program. She has struggled with
her mental health for many years, but not like this.
WORM, the whisperer. The doubter. The antagonist. He at-
tempts to seem bigger, and more intimidating than he is. He is
nothing but a facade. He’s literally just a worm.
FADE IN
We see a young woman sitting in the backseat of a car winding
up a canyon road. A grocery bag of marshmallows, chocolate,
and graham crackers sitting in the trunk. The leaves haven’t
fallen yet, but the air is crisp and sharp.
The car is filled with others, seemingly her family: her father,
mother, and younger sister. Her eyebrows scrunch together as
she looks out the window at the passing trees. We enter her
mind, discovering what plagues her.
WORM
(Whispering to JJ)
What if it isn’t real? Any of it?
JJ
(Speaking to the new voice in her mind, confused)
What?
WORM
(In a condescending tone)
You heard me. What if it isn’t real?
JJ shakes her head as if this could stop the distressing whispers of Worm.
JJ
(Attempting nonchalance)
That doesn’t even make any sense. You're being ridiculous.
Where is this coming from? Who are you?
Worm ignores JJ’s question, irritated at her determined ignorance of the danger.
WORM
(Hurriedly)
I’m no one. I’m you. And of course, it makes sense. Just think about it. Out of all the eggs, out of all the sperm, how could you have possibly come about? How are you possibly here the way you are when all the odds were against you and your existence?
JJ’s breaths come in faster, and her heart begins to pound.
JJ
(Starting to get scared)
Stop. . . . I’m going on a nice trip with my family right now.
I don’t want you to ruin this. There’s nothing to worry about.p
Worm, sensing the shift within her, moves in for the kill.
WORM
(Through a grin)
There’s everything to worry about. The likelihood of a planet
that can support living organisms is astronomically small. The
chances that you are here on Earth are extremely improbable.
This is beginning to feel too scary for JJ. She feels trapped in
her head, pulled in too many directions.
JJ
(In a panicked tone)
I’m right here. In this car. With my family. There is no danger,
trust me. Just go away!
WORM
(His voice gradually rising)
No! This is important. You need to figure this out. What if you
aren’t real? What if you die and you don’t exist anymore?
What is reality? What is the meaning of existence? What if no
one you love is real? What if nothing around you is real?
(His voice reaches its peak volume, full of anger)
WHAT IF NOTHING IS REAL?!
It becomes too much. JJ begins to crumble, the complexity of
existence crushing her. She finally folds. She can no longer ex-
plain away Worm’s whispers and dread seeps its way into her
soul. Worm has won the first battle in the unforeseen, never-
ending war.
FADE OUT
You know the movie The Truman Show, the story of a man
adopted by Hollywood? They raise him to be a reality star with-
out his knowledge. His entire life is broadcast from his birth to
his graduation to his marriage, and every other aspect of his life
without his consent. Truman’s life is nice and rosy to his under-
standing. But then Truman starts to notice things. Something
isn’t adding up. He notices his wife oddly promoting products to
him, almost as if she’s in a commercial. A stage light falls from
the sky, marked “Sirius.” His car radio picks up a signal that de-
scribes exactly where he is and where he’s turning. It all starts to
click: His reality isn’t real. His friends, wife, parents, home, city,
job, everything is fake. He realizes that he’s the star of The
Truman Show. That’s what my life with existential OCD feels
like.
It’s the JJ Show.
ACT 2: “THAT’S WHY I RUN TOWARDS SELF-LOVE AND INNER RESTORATION”
INT. OCD AND ANXIETY CENTER, UT—
SEPT.–NOV. 2024
There was a definite point in time when my mental health
declined. In elementary and middle school, I was a happy, con-
fident, and outgoing kid. When I got to high school, I tried
out for the soccer team. Soccer gave me so much joy and pur-
pose. So when the harshness and pressure from my coaches
and teammates got to me, it broke my heart. I quit, and left my
high school soccer experience feeling incompetent, lonely, and
depressed. Losing the thing that meant the most to me was the
catalyst to my long battle with my new constant companions:
anxiety and depression.
My mental health continued to decline and the panic at-
tacks and spiraling thoughts became more frequent. My fear al-
ways got the better of me, and I was sick of it. Sick of the
cycle. Worry, gaslight, worry, gaslight, blame, shame, fix, re-
peat. Mom and Dad convinced me to go to exposure therapy
in August 2024, and hoped the OCD and Anxiety Center in
Orem could help with my social and general anxiety. I didn’t
want to go. I felt like I was the problem and was just too lazy
and sensitive. But deep down I knew I had to do something.
On my first day of treatment, I had my mom drive me. I was
afraid that if I went by myself, I would chicken out and just sit
in the parking lot for three hours. Exposure therapy sounded
terrifying. Imagine your deepest, darkest insecurities and fears—
that you’ve shoved down for years—are suddenly exposed to a
room full of strangers. They’re all judging me, I thought. They’re
going to find out how much of a freak I am. Why am I so weak?
Why can’t I just be normal?!
It felt like the end of the world.
But the world kept spinning, and I kept breathing. Every day
of exposure therapy was a challenge. Dread came over me as I
parked my car in front of the center, because I wasn’t ready to
face my fears. And yet, I went in every day for two months.
Some of my hardest exposures included speaking to new people
without wondering what they thought of me, making a list of my
worries, and having people tell me my fears would come true—
even if they didn’t believe it, sitting in the doorway to “inconve-
nience” people, and having people critique my artwork.
Before each exposure My heart rate would reach speeds I
never thought possible. There is no way I can do this. But with
the help of my friends, therapists, and my new skills, I fought
through that fear. That little voice that told me I would fail was
always wrong. What I thought was once impossible became—
well not fun, because exposure therapy sucks no matter how
long you do it—but bearable. The results I was promised started
slowly but surely appearing. Ignoring the subtle whispers of
doubt and self-deprecation became easier and easier after each
exposure. My confidence grew with every victory.
By the end of the first week, I already felt more like myself
than I had in years. The world seemed clearer and more man-
ageable. Hopeful even. As weeks passed I was able to talk to
more and more strangers while out doing errands. I could look
at my fears and thoughts and see them as just that: fears and
thoughts. Nothing more. Accepting uncertainty allowed me to
take my life back. Of course, I still felt anxious every second of
every day. But I was able to be me. For the first time in a long
time, I started to feel like everything was going to be okay.
And then the bomb dropped.
ACT 3: “I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS THAT I’M CLIMBING TO”
INT. AND EXT. MT. TIMPANOGOS—NOV. 14, 2024
Being stuck in a center every day with people who have
OCD will do something to you. I began to notice the thinking
patterns that my friends in the center had. It struck me several
times that I had some similar patterns. I learned about the
term “rumination,” which is when you get stuck on a thought
or feeling for a while and keep revisiting it. I also learned that
there was a form of OCD called “existential OCD,” where
someone ruminates about the meaning of existence or ponders
death on a constant loop. This started to resonate with me as
well.
But I brushed it aside. I hadn’t been having those thoughts
of death and existence until a couple of months ago. It was
only recently that the thoughts were getting stronger. I was
being dramatic. I thought I maybe wanted attention, to make
excuses for myself to get whatever I wanted. So, I didn’t say
anything.
But the thoughts became stronger and stronger. One day
after therapy, I decided to drive up the mountain to think and
to pray. I needed time away from it all. The mountains have
always been a place of revelation and peace for me. After dri-
ving up a winding road, I found a spot that overlooked Utah
Valley and parked.
I sat down on a rock and started writing in my journal, ex-
pressing every thought, fear, and worry. I prayed and prayed. But
despite my intense anxiety, God gave me peace and stillness. He
helped me look uncertainty in the eye and say It doesn’t matter. I
don’t know what’s coming, but isn’t that exciting?
I drove home from that mountain with a smile on my face.
When I got home, I decided to email my therapist at the
clinic and let him know about my concerns and why I thought I
might have OCD. Writing down every way my life was falling
apart was unsettling. I left no stone unturned and told him
everything. I pressed send on the email and waited. I got a re-
sponse that same night. My therapist said my symptoms sounded
exactly like “classic OCD” and that we would figure out more
exposures together the next day.
I thought that getting that answer would help me feel bet-
ter. To know that it wasn’t my fault I am the way that I am. But
instead, what I had kept at bay on the mountain came rushing
back in: all the terror and uncertainty. I had this feeling I was
making it all up. I was an evil master manipulator who only
cared about myself. There goes your progress. Down the drain, said
the voice in my head, that I thought was my own.
It’s over.
ACT 4: “I HEAR YOUR WORDS IN MY HEAD, YOU SAID, ‘THE MOUNTAIN IS YOU’”
INT. OCD AND ANXIETY CENTERS, UT—NOV.–DEC. 2024
My therapist thought that because my social and general
anxiety had improved so much, the OCD started to reveal itself
more and more as I mastered those areas, letting the thoughts
of death and existence rush in. I was the most vulnerable and
open I’ve ever been, talking about my experience of feeling de-
tached from reality and over-contemplating the meaning of
life. I felt silly for saying it out loud, but everyone understood
even if they didn’t have the same type of OCD. I no longer felt
crazy, but instead, heard and accepted, leading me to accept
myself as I was.
As I learned more about OCD, I started recognizing that
little voice I’d been hearing for years. This whole time I thought
it was me, but it wasn’t. It was my OCD, telling me every sec-
ond that I wasn’t perfect enough. Convincing me that every
thought and feeling meant something and that I had to figure it
out. That I wasn’t real, and that there was no point in living if I
was going to die, trying to strip away my purpose piece by piece.
Realizing that those thoughts weren’t me—but something
else—allowed a peace to flood my mind that I hadn’t previously
known. I learned to trust myself and to trust God.
I even named my OCD. His name is Worm. Naming him
helped me separate his irrational fears from myself, and took
away some of the shame. I like to think of Worm like I con-
ceptualize the Wizard of Oz: Worm is trying to be something
big and scary and powerful, but he’s just a worm behind a cur-
tain. He has no real power.
When I was driving up the mountain on that crisp Novem-
ber afternoon, questioning everything and begging God to tell
me what was real, a song I hadn’t heard before came on my
playlist. Looking back, I see it as a love letter from my Heavenly
Father. As I was contemplating my life and the absolute mess it
was, speeding into Provo Canyon, I heard these words over my
car speakers:
The Mountain Is You, by Chance Peña
I’ve become
A figment of my imagination
That’s why I run
Towards self-love and inner restoration
I don’t know what it is that I’m climbing to
I hear your words in my head, you said, “The mountain is you”
And only worry can bring me down
You said, “The mountain is you”
The mountain is you
ACT 5: “AND ONLY WORRY CAN BRING ME DOWN”
INT. THE WORLD AND EXISTENCE—HERE AND NOW
(NOT THEN AND WHEN)
I am still struggling and have to relearn things every day.
Some days I'll be perfectly fine, and then the next my world
comes crashing down. But the one thing that has changed is my
perspective. I used to crumble at the slightest sign of opposition.
To immediately give in to hopelessness. But now I accept myself
for who and where I am. Sometimes it takes a while to get back
up, but I still get up. I am strong despite my weaknesses.
But the most important thing that has changed
for me is my relationship with God. Once my
mental health started declining, so did my
spiritual health. I couldn’t bear to face God.
My shortcomings were too apparent and the
shame was too much. But the moment I hit
rock bottom with my OCD diagnosis and
reached for Him, I started seeing the light. His
with me the entire way up. And when I slip, He’ll catch me.
That’s what’s different now. I’ve finally allowed God to help
me when I can’t do it alone. It’s two vs. one: God and me vs.
Worm. Those odds sound pretty good.
I will treasure the journal entry I wrote on that sacred
mountain for the rest of my life. I’ve already looked back at it
several times in the months since writing it. It tells me I am a
survivor, no matter how many times Worm tells me I’m not.
NOVEMBER 14, 2024
JOURNAL
I think I might have OCD. I don’t know. I just
keep hearing that OCD can make you impul-
sive, obsessive (obviously), and that it can
make you have rules for yourself. But I really
don’t know. But the fact that I’ve been obsess-
ing about having OCD makes me wonder . . .
but what if I’m lying to get more attention
(thinking error).
But right now, I’m at peace. I’m holding two
truths at once; I am afraid, but I am also happy.
It feels exhausting to live such an up and down
life. There are days where, in the space of an
hour, I can go from the happiest to the lowest I
can be. Before treatment, I was either a con-
stant meh, or a constant low. So maybe it’s a
good thing I’m so up and down now.
I’m really trying to let myself feel but it’s hard.
I learned something in one of our therapy
lessons: happiness is not our baseline emotion.
I do not exist to be happy. Well, I do, but I
also exist to be sad. Mad. Anxious. Whatever
it may be. I’m trying really hard to get the idea
of a linear life out of my head and to let it be
messy.
Despite all my worries and fears, I feel peace and
stillness. I think God is speaking to me through
stillness. Not telling me everything is going to
be okay, and that there is an afterlife. He calms
me, letting me know I am doing everything I
can possibly do, and that that’s enough.
I feel like right now, in this moment, He has
given me a moment of quiet in my head. I’m
able to just stop thinking and to just feel.
I am doing just fine.
<3 JJ
THE END