Live OCD Free app: my review

Posted on February 25, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

I first learned of the Live OCD Free app when I was in Boston last October, attending an event hosted by the International OCD Foundation. I was intrigued by the idea of a web app that could simulate or guide Exposure and Response Prevention, so I picked up some handouts to take back to my university, and that was that.

Until I had lunch with Faith, this incredible 9-year-old who is battling with OCD.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had stored the memory that this app had a children’s version to it, so I contacted the company and asked if I could have a free trial of the app so that– if I liked it– I could promote it on my blog. I received a very kind email from Dr. Kristen Mulcahy, who also sent me a promo code.

Live OCD Free app

What it is:
Billed as “your personal pocket therapist,” this web app allows you to undergo cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), specifically Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP), either on your own or with the help of a therapist. With it, you create a hierarchy of exposures, practice your exposures, and record your progress. You can even easily email your progress reports to your therapist! There is an adult version and a child version (both available with just the one purchase).

Child version:
In the child version of the app, there is a video that shares the story of the “Worry Wizard” with the child– in the video, the Worry Wizard happens to be another person (a bad kid, ha!), which I kind of like. It goes along with the idea of narrative therapy that YOU are NOT the problem, the PROBLEM is the PROBLEM. By showing children that the Worry Wizard is a completely separate entity from themselves, they are able to treat OCD as the enemy and not themselves.

ERP is then made into a game of sorts. Children (along with the help of an adult) create a list of exposures (with simple prompts to aid them). They then can practice their exposure at the click of a button. If there is a need for an imaginative exposure (creating a loop tape/recording), they can do that within this app as well. There are also built-in timers to remind users to practice their exposures and to record their anxiety levels (for the progress reports). It’s really easy to use, very self-explanatory.

Adult version:
The adult version is very similar to the child version except that it just tells it like it is. 🙂

PROS:
The secret weapons (child version)/toolbox (adult version).
Oh my goodness, I absolutely loved this feature*. When you choose to practice an exposure, you set the timer for how long you’d like to do it. While you are practicing an exposure, you can access the secret weapons/toolbox area, which includes:

1. Reasons for fighting (both versions). A place where you can review and record your reasons for fighting OCD/the Worry Wizard.
2. Uncertainty agreement (adult version). Where you acknowledge that you cannot know things with certainty. This records the date that you “signed on” for this!
3. Relaxation (both versions). Listen to an exercise in muscle relaxation.
4. Motivational messages and inspirational quotes. You can even add your own!
5. Tips from other kids fighting the Worry Wizard. Obviously, this is in the children’s version. Loved it. The quotes were so good and meaningful and encouraging without being enabling at all.
6. Songs (child version). This included two songs for children (although there is a whole CD available on iTunes). I have to admit, one of the songs– “Worry Wizard”– made me cry listening to the lyrics. It just breaks my heart that children have to deal with this crippling disorder. They are so brave!

*When I was doing my own exposures, I was told to focus intently on them … I wonder how this toolbox jives with that, or if that was only my therapist’s method.

Live OCD Free User’s Guide
This is wonderfully written, very clear. If someone is choosing to do ERP on their own and without the guidance of a therapist, this user’s guide will be critical to their success. Since I have undergone CBT, I now find it fairly easy to recognize obsessions and compulsions– and to identify appropriate exposures. However, I would not have been able to do this if I hadn’t gone through ERP myself already. The prompts are very helpful (and OCs often know what things bring them the most anxiety), but this user’s guide will be a huge help in sorting through obsessions, compulsions, and exposures. I emailed with Dr. Mulcahy, and she said that sometimes people will meet once or twice with a cognitive-behavioral therapist just to set up their exposure hierarchy before attacking the actual exposures on their own. Even if you don’t have health insurance, I can see where this would be very helpful. If not, the user’s guide will assist in that matter.

Progress reports
This app makes it easy to see your progress. I love that. A visual reminder of how far you’ve come can go such a long way!

CONS:
There are very, very few cons to this app. The graphics in the video of the Worry Wizard were not my favorite, and (of course) being a writer, I thought the story could have used a little polishing, but all in all, this app is phenomenal.

The cost is around $80, which at first seemed like a lot of money to me … but it’s really not. Not for what you get. An ERP experience for $80 is a bargain (even with awesome health insurance, I still probably paid about $300 out of pocket to meet with my cognitive-behavioral therapist). And the freedom to be gained through this process is priceless.

I imagine that CBT without the guidance of a therapist would also be more difficult, especially as there is less accountability, but the truth of the matter is that CBT takes a lot of commitment, no matter what. I have said it before and I will say it again, you know you are ready for CBT when the hell you’re experiencing daily is worse than the hell you’ll have to go through with CBT.

All said, I highly recommend this product.

I cannot say enough good about CBT/ERP and how it gave me back my life. Whether someone chooses to go the traditional route of seeking out a cognitive-behavioral therapist (note: NOT a talk therapist) or chooses to use this web app … or chooses to use both in conjunction with one another … I am 110% for it.

The important thing is that you pursue CBT.

where OCD failed

Posted on February 19, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

Those who read my blog know that I mean business when I say that OCD is a brutal liar, the biggest thief I know. I hate it passionately. And I hate the way that media so often leans in the direction of portraying it as comical instead of devastating. It throws so much ugliness at us.

But every once in a while, its tricks fail.

The following is one of the OCD-induced thoughts I have … but this one never worked its evil on me. I even think it’s funny … because it’s an area where OCD attempted to ruin me and failed. It’s an intrusive thought … but it’s not an upsetting one. And the resulting compulsion has always been small and has never gotten out of control.

So, here it is. “The one that got away.”

I get these thoughts that letters and words have feelings. Yup.

Here’s an example.

Let’s say I was typing the word blogging, and instead I typed bloggging. Instead of deleting the ing and the extra g, I, at times, would take the extra time to remove only the extra g. You see, the ing didn’t do anything wrong to deserve being deleted and replaced with a new ing.

I also get the feeling that words that have been next to each other for a while have become friends.

So if that last sentence had been written a long time ago, and then I decided to edit it but to use some of the same words, I would not delete the old word and replace it with the same new word (you’d be surprised how often this kind of thing happens when you edit like a maniac). It just seems wrong to uproot neighbors like that.

It’s okay to laugh. It makes me smile! Even now, with years under my belt of being in charge of my OCD, I still have these thoughts. I don’t hesitate to replace a word with a different, better word (or I’d be in rough shape as a writer!), but I don’t want to replace words that are the same/equal without taking into account the words’ feelings.

But it’s very natural. I make the decisions quickly as I go, so I’m not wasting extra time, and it wouldn’t ruin my night if I hurt a word or letter’s feelings. I know they don’t actually have feelings. And I don’t get upset over anything connected to it.

It’s like this funny little leftover from OCD, and since it’s so weak and powerless, it kinda makes me grin.

OCD has a lot of terrible tricks. Are there any that OCD tried to play on you which actually failed?

Lunch with Faith: discussing OCD with children

Posted on February 4, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

I had the privilege of visiting with Faith over lunch last week. Faith is a nine-year-old third-grader, and she is the cutest nine-year-old in the world, all eyes and sweet, sweet smile. Not kidding, you look at this little girl and think, Oh my gosh, a hug from this child could change the world.

Faith is the strongest, bravest nine-year-old I know. She has obsessive-compulsive disorder, and she is dealing AT NINE with obsessions that buckled me in my 20s. My heart just breaks when I think about the daily battles she fights, and it makes me hate OCD even more than I already do (with the passion of a thousand and one suns) for the way it could dare to target such innocence and loveliness.

How do you talk about OCD with a third-grader?

That was the question that I grappled with in the week leading up to this lunch. My OCD first appeared when I was seven, but I didn’t have the vocabulary to really discuss it until after my diagnosis, which didn’t come until after college. I am such a huge advocate for cognitive-behavioral therapy, but I’m so ignorant as to whether this is even possible or appropriate for a child to tackle. When it nearly snapped me in half at age 26, is it even reasonable to expect someone one-third of that age to try something like it?

What we ended up talking about was the narrative therapy that I practiced on myself and my OCD. Narrative therapy reminds us that the person is not the problem; the problem is the problem. I chose to separate myself from my OCD by imagining it as a black dot that followed me around … and I got the upper-hand by belittling it. Most often, I would “dress” it in a pink tutu and make it twirl around. My OCD hated this.

Perhaps this sounds crazy to you, but it was a good strategy for me … and hopefully for children too. Faith was intrigued by the idea of the black dot, and I told her, “It’s okay to bully the black dot because it’s so mean and it’s a liar. So you get to bully it back.” (Please, Jesus, don’t let me be teaching her bad life lessons … can’t you just picture her telling a teacher, “I bullied the kindergartener because he was mean to me first, and this girl I met told me that was okay!” Oh gosh. Ha!) But I think she understood that we were talking specifically about the disorder, the black dot.

And we sort of talked about CBT elements too. I told her, “When the black dot tells you that you have to have your locker clean before you go to your next class, you can ignore it because it’s a liar. And when you feel like you need to wash your hands again, just to be safe, you can ignore the black dot because it’s a liar and a bully. Instead …”

“… I tell it to put on its tutu!” she said, giggling.

“Exactly!”

So … there is the element of response prevention. Hopefully introduced in a way she can understand.

I hope it helps her. I know it helped me, but I was also going through intense CBT at the time. What I do know is that I hate OCD, which could dare to steal joy from this sweetest little girl, who should be enjoying third grade, best friends, recess, pencil collections (or was that just me in third grade? ha!), and Jesus, her Savior, whom she loves, and about whom her OCD whispers lies to her.

I remember being that young, remembering overthinking every thing, remember the obsessions and the intrusive thoughts and wondering why no one else my age thought about these same kinds of things. I am so glad that Faith has a name for OCD at such a young age, but I am deeply saddened that she has to struggle. My heart hurts for all obsessive-compulsives but today especially for the young ones, who are so confused, who feel so guilty, who are so scared.

I wish I could tear through the lies and fear for them, show them truth. I am trying.

Does anyone know of tools for obsessive-compulsive children? Is CBT an option?

a smattering of thoughts on integrity

Posted on February 1, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

For my 31st birthday, my delightful friend Elyse made a list of 31 things she liked about me. I had done this for Elyse’s birthday because my roommate Desiree did it for me when I turned 30. It’s such a fun idea!

One of the things Elyse wrote about me was this:

26. Your integrity—everyone I talk to only has the BEST things to say about you because you are so consistent wherever you are and whomever you are with

I am deeply humbled and honored that she would say this, but I do have to say that I am really glad she did because my integrity is something I think about a lot. I make a concerted effort to always be only and exactly who I am. I keep only one Facebook account (instead of keeping a second one just for work, as many of my students add me) precisely for this reason. If it’s not something I should post on my wall or on my blog, then I have to stop and consider if I should be posting it at all. I want my online presence to match my real life presence, my work presence to match my home presence to match my church presence. I have this strong, strong desire to be only one person and for people to love me for exactly who I am.

It’s not that hard to have integrity when you like who you are. Thankfully, God (and the VlogBrothers) has given me confidence to be the silly, nerdy, passionate English geek that I am. To not take myself too seriously, to give grace, to care deeply about whatever I really do care deeply about. To take risks in walking around without the normal masks people like to wear. To trust that I have intrinsic value. To be unashamed of my OCD. To vocalize my shortcomings. To be real with people in the hopes that they will be drawn to the honest me.

I’m not perfect by any means. (Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous.) I have secrets and faults and things I am ashamed of. But as I grow with Christ, I am more and more confident that my identity is found in him and that I am free to be exactly who he made me to be– and only that person.

Love this!

in which I weigh in on the topic of profanity

Posted on January 29, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

I’ve been thinking lately of the topic of profanity. I have a weird history with it.

I grew up in a home where “shut up” was strictly outlawed and, if uttered, would result in Mom scraping a bar of soap across your teeth. My undiagnosed OCD latched onto this sin, and I spent some of my younger years tormented by swear words lambasting my mind. I remember feeling sick and sinful and guilty, and I would confess to my mom that I was “having bad thoughts.”

Years and years later, OCD had strengthened its grip on me like a vice, such that I conditioned myself to “counteract” these bad thoughts with a repetitive prayer. It started with curse words (most especially the f-bomb) but also words that sounded like curse words (class, bit, switch, luck, etc.) and eventually any word that started with the f sound. All of these would trigger my compulsive prayer (so that I would avoid the intrusive thoughts the words would also trigger). I remember one day realizing just how far it had gone when I walked by a stranger who was lightly biting down on her lower lip, and I started praying (for, of course, that is what your mouth does when you make the f sound).

In 2008, I underwent cognitive-behavioral therapy, during which I had to listen to an audio recording littered with curse words, as my doctor attempted to re-wire my brain (with success!). I didn’t know what my conservative family would think of this therapy, but my mom was supportive and understood this was essentially my last chance to get my life back. I didn’t talk details with my dad or sister, but my brother was disgusted when he heard about my therapy. He was really disappointed in me, but I knew better than he did that this necessary.

CBT broke the spell for me around profanity. For the first time in my life, I could hear it without an overwhelming reaction. I could even say those words! They found a home in my fiction as I realized how they added an element of realism to my story.

I do not have a filthy mouth, not by any means. But after a lifetime of assigning too much meaning and influence to profanity, I have now found freedom from that and power over it. It doesn’t bother me to share a curse word with a friend either in a joke or for emphasis. I feel like I’ve escaped that cage I was in.

The other week, I used the phrase “time the hell out” on my blog, and my sister called me on it. It bothered her, and she let me know. We were at our parents’ house, and Mom said that profanity in my stories didn’t bother her, but it did in my real life. My sister said both were an issue for her. I told them then that neither bothered me and that I even felt a little profanity actually worked well for a powerful emphasis when needed and that it could even improve my witness as a Christian because I didn’t seem so much holier-than-thou. They disagreed, citing verses like, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths.” (The version of scripture I read is ESV, which reads, “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths,” which is a more literal interpretation and one that doesn’t particularly strike guilt in me.)

I do believe it wrong to use the Lord’s name in an offensive way. That one does grate against me.

Personally, I choose not to say things like “holy cow” or “holy buckets” or any one of the slew of phrases people use in this way. This is, to me, more offensive than profanity. I think that language that tears someone apart is more unwholesome than words we have a special veto on simply because they are pronounced differently than their “approved” synonyms.

What are your thoughts on this? Both sides are welcome.

no one really wants to talk about HOCD

Posted on January 22, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

HOCD stands for “homosexual obsessive-compulsive disorder,” and I think it’s about time I wrote about it on my blog.

HOCD is essentially when someone has intrusive thoughts and worries that he or she might be gay, even though they have been straight for years with no doubts … and even though they are attracted to the opposite sex and want to be with the opposite sex.

A better term would actually be “sexual orientation obsessive-compulsive disorder” because these worries sometimes torment gay people who suddenly wonder if they might be straight.

Just to be clear … this post is not about homosexuality and is not meant to spark debate about homosexuality. This post is about questioning whether you’re gay when you’re not (or vice versa), and that is a common thread amongst obsessive-compulsives, one I feel that most people would rather not discuss. People can argue till they are blue in the face about what to think about homosexuality, but there is only one way to look at a disorder that makes you question something that never needed to be questioned: that disorder is a liar.

Why don’t people want to talk about it more? I confess, I myself don’t, especially not in a platform like this blog. Because no one understands an obsessive-compulsive like another obsessive-compulsive, and it’s so hard to explain the internal riot occurring while going through any obsession. Many OCs are upfront about their obsessions with those they are closest to … then they (we) use those friends to solicit reassurance from. Do you think that was bad? Do you think I cleaned the dishes well enough and the kids won’t get sick? Do you think it was stealing when I took a paperclip home from work today? The friends tell us, No, it wasn’t bad; yes, you cleaned well; no, you’re not a thief.

But when an OC is struggling with HOCD, it’s very hard to ask friends, Do you think I really might be gay? We are less worried about their answer than about their secret judgments toward us after the question is asked.

I remember in 8th grade thinking that my friend looked pretty one day, and it set me off on a trail of questions and doubts: did that mean I was gay? Did that mean I liked her? Was attracted to her? I was the most boy-crazy girl that I knew, and inside my head, I was asking these questions.

Now that I am on the other side of cognitive-behavioral therapy, it is so unbelievably clear to me: If I liked only men and wanted to date only men, then I was not gay. But I can remember the questions: But do you only want to date men? It’s crafty, OCD is. It plays dirty. It makes us second- and triple- and quadrupal-guess ourselves. It’s all so exhausting.

I just wanted to write a post on it to explain what it is and to say that it is such a common obsession. I think the more we can see how it’s just the same old story with OCD, the more we can see clearly that we are not alone and that OCD is just that old liar who only has a small bag of tricks.

Pimp the Guilt, a poem & why I wrote it

Posted on January 20, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

My former co-worker Micah once instigated a challenge with me, saying that he would give the title for a poem, and we would each interpret it as we chose, each write a poem with that title, and see which one was better. I actually wrote one. I don’t think he ever did. (He owes me!)

The title he chose was “Pimp the Guilt,” which we thought was kinda funny sounding– but OCD was in its hey-day in my life, and the title actually reminded me of the way my disorder made me feel guilty all the time.

This is what I wrote:

PIMP THE GUILT

The smallest thing, a trigger,
a rooster. Casual words
look like pointed fingers,
wagging in accusation,
and me, unable to process
advice for what it is,
feeling shame rip my heart
the way you’d tear a valentine.

deviantART by ~ginny1441

OCD and writing

Posted on January 18, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

Recently, my friend Tina at the Bringing Along OCD blog wrote about “reading OCD” — which she had in an earlier post described this way:

Imagine opening up a book to begin reading it. Chapter one. You read a paragraph. Then you reread it. Then you move to the second paragraph, but you realize that you may not have read the first paragraph well enough. So you go back and read paragraph one again. Then you read and reread paragraph two several times. You finally make it to the end of the page, and in turning the page, you think, “I’ve read page one adequately.”

But you can’t be sure. Did you understand everything you read? Will you remember it?

So you reread page one, reading and rereading the paragraphs again. After an hour of being on page one, you get tired and decide to put down the book. You’ll get through the book someday. It’s only the third time you’ve tried to read chapter one.

Tina said, “This makes reading laborious and sometimes unbearable. I find myself avoiding reading.”

I really, really hate OCD. I hate the way it tries to steal whatever is most important to us.

For me, it tried to steal (and for a time DID steal) my writing.

At the time, I was working on my first novel, which was all about OCD, and my OCD kept reminding me of the Bible verse that says, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”

My head snagged on the verse. I was writing about OCD … and OCD was not lovely; that I knew for sure. OCD was not pure or commendable. It was ugly, tyrannical … not worth of praise. And yet, I was spending all this time writing about it, all this time thinking about it.

I started to obsess that my writing was sinful.

Writing, which had always been a lovely release for me, a respite … even that was being stolen from me by OCD. This is the scene I ended up writing about it (eventually):

“Stella,” I said, reaching out and touching her hand.

She looked at me. “What’s up?”

“I think it’s wrong to write my poems.”

She frowned. “What.” It was an accusation, not a question.

I tried to explain my logic. “So I write about feeling scared about hell, for example, okay? And then other people read about it, and I’m causing them to sin.”

“Neely, the Bible talks about hell.” The brown eyes of Stella Bay-Blake were flashing—and looking dangerously similar to Trapper’s.

“There is that,” I said, pausing to think it through. Maybe Christ’s brief mentions of hell didn’t warrant people’s actual dwelling on it, whereas a poem would. In that case, I’d still be out of line. “I don’t know.”

“Neely, there is rape in the Bible. And adultery. And murder.”

“But maybe not really in a way so that the reader dwells on those things, you know?”

“No,” she said. She sounded angry, and with her curls falling forward into her face, she looked violent, like a lion. “This is the one way that you can healthily process your stupid OCD.”

“Maybe I could try to dwell on lovely things. Write about lovely things.”

“Yeah,” she said sarcastically. “You can write ‘Walking on a Rainbow to the King: Reprise.’ Because what I want to read are a hundred pages about sunshine and puppies.”

“Not sunshine and puppies, not necessarily,” I said. “But things like … like faith and confidence.” Father God, I love You.

“You have OCD,” she reminded me, “and you are going to write convincing poems about confidence?” She had a point. “My gosh, I will really blow a nut if you quit writing. I’m the writer who doesn’t write!”

But we sat in silence at the tiny table, my closed journal a symbol of all my failure.

OCD. Is. A. Thief. It will steal whatever you love best. It will warp your mind into believing things that are so far from the truth. It is a liar. I hate the bondage it keeps so many people in. I am so glad to no longer listen to and believe all those lies.

where the music comes from

Posted on January 13, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

Early that next week, with my head still spinning, I sat with the Conner family for Ellen’s first jazz concert of the year—her three younger brothers sandwiched between their parents and me next to Mrs. Conner, feeling guilty that I’d been avoiding her daughter. It was pretty obvious that, between the six of us, only Mrs. Conner and I actually wanted to be there, but Mr. Conner dutifully tried to keep the boys quiet and entertained.

“Ellen looks gorgeous,” I whispered to Mrs. Conner when the jazz band made its way onto the stage. Ellen wore a knee-length black dress with long sleeves and a scooped neckline. Her mom had forced her to take off the leather choker for the evening.

“She’s miserable,” Mrs. Conner whispered back. “We go through concert dress woes every year.” She rolled her eyes. I smiled and looked back to the band members, who were tuning their instruments to Ellen, the lead saxophone. They began with a few big band arrangements, followed by a swing tune, then a ballad. “Ellen has a solo in this one,” whispered Mrs. Conner.

When the band fell into the background, Ellen stood up and a giant spotlight shone on her. She played effortlessly, a beautiful, full tone, with perfect rhythm. The concert band director had begged Ellen to join their group as well, but she just wasn’t interested. “In jazz,” she’d told me, “you can actually lean into a wrong note and make it sound right. It’s not like concert band, where you have to be perfect.”

“She’s got this down,” I commented to Mrs. Conner.

“It’s actually improv,” she offered back.

My eyes widened. I could hardly believe that this picture-perfect sound being pushed along the ceiling by an alto sax was being invented on the fly. I imagined myself standing in front of tonight’s crowd, looking not at a sheet of music but letting it flow out of me like rays of sunlight. I shivered in the audience—not from any chill but from the fear conjured up by the brief imagination.

Dr. Foster is right, I thought. I am definitely uncomfortable with uncertainty. It upset me a little to see how far-reaching it went.

“Jazz and fantasy both push the limits,” Ellen had said to me once. I’d had to think about it for awhile before it sat right with me. Tonight I could see that Ellen was just a teenager who wanted no boundaries. She needed improvisation, needed those grace notes.

A dark stage, a young girl in a black dress. The spotlight’s mouth circling her in a perfect O as she gazed straight ahead. It reminded me of the stormy night that Matt played his keyboard for me, the way his eyes too had found that particular secret spot where the music comes from.

Tips for Interviewing a Therapist for Your OCD

Posted on January 9, 2013 by Jackie Lea Sommers

Janet from the ocdtalk blog pointed me to the International OCD Foundation’s website for this list. I hope it will be helpful for you as you seek appropriate treatment for your OCD. I can’t stress this enough: OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVES SHOULD NOT WASTE THEIR TIME ON TALK THERAPY. YOU NEED COGNITIVE-BEHAVIORAL THERAPY, SPECIFICALLY EXPOSURE AND RESPONSE PREVENTION THERAPY.

“What techniques do you use to treat OCD?”
If the therapist is vague, or does not mention cognitive behavior therapy (CBT) or Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP), use caution.

“Do you use Exposure and Response Prevention to treat OCD?”
Be cautious of therapists who say they use CBT, but won’t be more specific.

“What is your training and background in treating OCD?”
If they say they went to a CBT psychology graduate program or did a post-doctoral fellowship in CBT, it is a good sign. Another positive is if a therapist says they are a member of the International OCD Foundation (IOCDF) or the Association of Behavioral and Cognitive Therapists (ABCT). Also, look for therapists who say they have attended specialized workshops or trainings offered by the IOCDF, like our Behavior Therapy Training Institute (BTTI) or Annual Conference.

“How much of your practice currently involves anxiety disorders?”

“Do you feel that you have been effective in your treatment of OCD?”

“What is your attitude towards medicine in the treatment of OCD?”
If they are negative about medicine, this is a bad sign. Medicine is an effective treatment for OCD.

“Are you willing to leave your office if needed to do behavior therapy?”
It is sometimes necessary to go out of the office to do effective ERP.

JACKIE LEA SOMMERS

Author & Advocate

Category Archives: OCD