Category Archives: overcoming

not alone

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One of my OCD friends just sent me a message that said: “I have also been reading your blog… ha almost like looking at my own biography.”

It reminded me so much that although OCD tries to make us feel like freaks– like we are the only ones who could think such thoughts– like we are unique in our horrors– it’s not true.  All obsessive-compulsives are telling the same story, just with different details.  We are wearing the same outfits but have put on different accessories.  We are not alone.

OCD wears many masks: scrupulosity, checking, ordering, washing, etc.– but in the end it is a neurological disorder that makes us think unwanted thoughts and then perform actions to give ourselves temporary relief.  We are all in the same boat together.

I as a Pure-O can sit with a washer and empathize.  We have a common enemy.

For years, I thought I was some kind of anomaly.  I’m not.  I’m just a girl whose mind has a glitch, and I stand alongside many others who experience the same thing.

Community is important.  I felt validated when I discovered that there were others like myself.  I remember reading Kissing Doorknobs for the first time.  I remember my first conversation with another OC.  I remember reading Stop Obsessing! and seeing myself in the pages, just the way my friend is seeing himself in my blog posts.  Community matters.  And that is one reason that I shout from the rooftops that I have OCD, just in case any other OCs are listening, in case they recognize themselves in me.  Then we can sit down, talk, share stories, and realize that ours are both the same.

 

Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy gave me back my life

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Some of you probably think that I am being dramatic.  If you do, I can almost guarantee that you have never suffered from obsessive-compulsive disorder, because those with OCD know that it essentially steals life and joy right out from under you.

I was in a dark place.  My thoughts felt uncontrollable and blasphemous.  I could not take long car rides or fall asleep at night without audiobooks because I needed to give my racing mind something to focus on.  I felt deeply guilty nearly all of the time– and even about small or ridiculous things.  I had an unreasonable weight of responsibility on my shoulders, as if I were somehow the one keeping the world functioning.  I entertained silly and/or terrifying idea of reality.  I felt hellbound and cut off from God’s love and forgiveness.  I was without hope and utterly exhausted.

Cognitive-behavioral therapy was one of the hardest things that I have ever undergone– but those 12 weeks of intense therapy were what God used to set me free from the clutches of OCD.  CBT is a strange concept– give in to your obsessive thoughts in order to gain control over them– but IT WORKS.  I am living proof.

I cannot recommend CBT enough.  It is my mantra to anyone who suffers from OCD: get CBT, get CBT, get CBT.  I feel so much happiness, joy, security, normality now that I want to plead with OCs to come join me on the other side.

Listen up.  If you have OCD and are living in darkness, I know the way out.  I would be happy to sit down with you and tell you all about CBT, answer any questions that you might have, and encourage you as best as I can.  Go to http://abct.org and find a cognitive-behavioral therapist in your area.  There is a light ahead.

brokenness

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After we watched the Blue Like Jazz screening, my former writing professor Judy and I went to the St. Clair Broiler for some late-night breakfast and conversation.

A few things you should know about Judy: she is brilliant, a gifted writer and teacher, and she loves Jesus very much and connects with him in lovely and unique ways like Taizé and lectio divina.

One thing she said to me over pancakes and French toast was this: “Some people hold their brokenness at arm’s length.  Some people embrace their brokenness.  And some people celebrate their brokenness.”

That’s what I want to do– celebrate my brokenness.  I am not ashamed of my obsessive-compulsive disorder.  The Lord’s power is perfected in my weakness.  His grace is sufficient.

“Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Corinthians 12:9b).

How about you?

scrupulosity and the unforgivable sin

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Scrupulosity: OCD centered around religious themes.

The story of my life.

The obsession: for many years, my head would repeat blasphemous things over and over, sometimes triggered by certain sounds and sometimes by non-specific phrases about hell, demons, souls, the devil.

The compulsion: I began to repeat one particular phrase– “Father God, I love You”– over and over in my head as a way to stem the other thoughts.

It became very difficult to handle everything that was going on: these blasphemous thoughts would crowd me– I mean, really crowd me (the image I have is of these thoughts bumping and grinding on me like dirty brutes at a dance club), and I’d be warding them off by repeating this repetitive prayer over and over (and over and over and over).  And on the outside, it didn’t look like anything.

Those who were closest to me (dear friends and roommates and family members) knew that I was going through hell, but they couldn’t see the battle that was taking place.  They only knew of it when I told them (or on nights when I broke down sobbing in fear of eternal damnation … thanks for speaking truth to me those nights, Desiree!).

It is hard to describe exactly what it feels like to feel as though you’re wearing a sentence of hell on your shoulders.  Here’s a shot:

Condemnation (or supposed condemnation) is like being in a tank of water with only inches of air at the top.  You have to lean your head back to put your lips to the air, and the whole while you must keep treading water.  There is no opportunity for distraction.  It consumes every moment of your life.

Anyone reading this understand me?

If so, please read this sermon.  I think it might help.  My heart aches for you, but there is hope.  Lovers of Jesus Christ don’tbelong in hell.  Let’s talk.

Did God give me OCD?

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Q: But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” — Romans 9:20 (ESV)

A: Thanks for asking.  I’m Jackie Sommers.  I guess you could call me a sass-pot. 

Why do we get OCD?  Is it a punishment from God?  Is it a result of the fall of mankind?  Is it completely arbitrary?  Bad karma?  Simply genetic?  Strep throat gone awry?

I believe that my OCD is indeed from God, given to me for three reasons:
1) To drive me to Him.  The times that I have known most intensely my desperate need for Christ have been some of my most OCD-riddled seasons of life.  When I am given something impossible to handle, then I have to turn to Someone bigger who can take it from my weak hands.
2) So that I would use it to glorify Him.  I wrote a novel about an obsessive-compulsive, a book written for the Lord, to use my talents to honor Him.  I think it’s a beautiful picture of redemption to see the way God allowed me to turn my history of OCD into a creative and beautiful result.
2) To help others who are suffering.  Simply put, I would not be able to sympathize with other sufferers in the same way had I not crawled out of those same trenches.  God was with me every step of the way, and I know that it was He who guided me to cognitive-behavioral therapy, of which I am now a strong advocate.

So, what do you think?  Is OCD from God– or is it something else?  Would love to hear your thoughts!

medication is scary, part two

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It took me approximately five years to get on the right medication.

Over the course of the five years, I experienced the following:

* rapid weight gain (30 pounds in one month)

* deep lethargy, during which air felt stale and I had to nap for 2+ hours every day after work

* mind vomit (a phrase I coined, meaning that taking the medication exacerbated my OCD, sending me into frenetic, panicked obsessions)

* a visible tremor

* drymouth, as stanch as if I were eating Saltines and peanut butter

* dizziness and vision loss, usually paired together (One time I had a whole conversation with someone without telling him I couldn’t actually see him … I hope I appeared to be looking him in the eyes.  The dizziness/vision loss combo happened so often that I actually got used to it, could continue walking across my apartment without even slowing my step.)

* Jello-legs, so terrible that I had to lean against the stairwell wall as I descended from my second-floor apartment

* excessive sweating

* lactation (you think I’m kidding, but I’m not)

* a spasm of pain in my back that once DROPPED me to the floor like I’d been tackled from behind

* an allergic reaction that nearly killed me (please, PLEASE do not take new meds unless you have Benadryl in your home!)

And then along came Dr. Suck-Won Kim, my sweet, wonderful expert psychiatrist, who got me onto my perfect dosage of Prozac, Effexor XR, and Risperdal.

And want to know what?

It was all worth it.

freedom begets freedom

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When I first decided to “go public” with my OCD, I was sincerely terrified.  I think it was 2006, and I was asked to share my testimony with the campers at a week of 9th and 10th grade Bible camp.  My family and closest friends knew about my OCD, but it was hush-hush among everyone else.  The night I publicly told a group of people about my OCD, I was so scared that I thought I was going to throw up or fall apart.  There is no going back.  Once you tell people this, you can’t make them forget you’ve said it.  They will always treat you differently, look at you differently.  You will lose friends tonight.

Instead, what happened was that a long-time friend ended up sharing with me that he too struggled with obsessive-compulsive disorder.  He was so ashamed of it that he hadn’t even told his own family.

Honest sharing from one person draws out honest sharing from others.

In other words, freedom begets freedom.

I have seen the truth of this over the last six years.  The more vocal I am about OCD, the more people seem to come out of the woodwork: I struggle with that too; my friend is an OC and I don’t know what to say; I never knew that it was OCD until you described it that way.  They want to know the next step, they want to know there is hope, that they are not alone.

And they are certainly not alone.

“OCD is the fourth most common mental disorder, and is diagnosed nearly as often as asthma and diabetes mellitus. In the United States, one in 50 adults suffers from OCD.” (Wikipedia)

But we find one another by saying it outloud.  OCD.  I have OCD.

And then there is the response: I have it too.

And we begin to steal back power and control.

These days, I drop those three little letters into conversation pretty much any chance I get.  I am not ashamed of it or nervous to tell people I am an OC.  I am only hoping that my freedom will beget freedom.

I have OCD.  What about you?

black and white … and gray

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Today, one of my staff members was really pushing me to set some boundaries/define some things around a particular part of his job.  I pushed back on it, simply because I needed some room to breathe, room to change my mind, room to be a manager.

And then it suddenly occurred to me how strange this was– that I, Jackie Lea Sommers, wanted a little gray working room instead of a black-and-white prison.  Me– the girl who, at one time, wanted a ten-step manual for every minute task of life, who had to ask permission for the silliest of things, who NEEDED boundaries drawn around her just so that she could lessen the daily guilt by a smidgeon.

Watch out, world!!  This obsessive-compulsive’s shackles are off!!