I love when my worlds collide. This quote from Anne Lamott’s brilliant book Bird by Bird can be seen through every lens of this blog: faith, OCD, creativity. Here’s the full quote:
“I heard a preacher say recently that hope is a revolutionary patience; let me add that so is being a writer. Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don’t give up.”
Have more discussions about OCD.
First things first, I am a guest blogger on Monday at my friend Hannah’s blog, Prayers of Light. Over there you can read a little something I wrote about Digory Kirke, about finally getting to hear the rest of the story. Fellow Narnia geeks like me and Hannah are more than welcome to check it out!
Let’s talk about OCD Stockholm Syndrome, yes?
OCD. Obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Stockholm Syndrome. When hostages love their captors/abusers.
OCD Stockholm Syndrome. When obsessive-compulsives ironically cling to the disorder that holds them in bondage.
“OCD Stockholm Syndrome” isn’t a real term, but it’s a real thing– and one I don’t think we talk about that often. It’s confusing and senseless, and I don’t claim to understand it myself. But this blog is in the business of shining light in dark places (mmm, lights all around!), so I thought I’d write about it.
I hate OCD. I really do. I think it is an ugly, vile, reprehensible disorder that steals joy and leaves people in shackles. So, tell me why it is that, after my cognitive-behavioral therapy was over, I asked my therapist, “Do I still have OCD?” and when he said, “Yes,” I felt relief.
I think I was worried about what I would lose. OCD had woven its way through me and entangled itself so deeply through me that a big part of me was worried that I would lose my personality if I lost OCD. I also thought I’d lose my reputation as the “thinker” amongst my circle of influence. As a Christian, I worried that I would lose my desperation for Christ if this disorder vanished because, after all, hadn’t it motivated me toward loving my God?
Once I watched a talk show where an audience member asked a question to the girl on the stage suffering from anorexia. The audience member had formerly been through treatment for anorexia herself, and she asked (with incredible insight), “Sometimes don’t you feel like anorexia is your best friend?” and the girl on the stage answered, “Yes.”
At the time that I watched this talk show, I had not yet undergone ERP, and I remember thinking, I understand that.
It’s bizarre, I know.
When I communicate with other obsessive-compulsives, there is often a theme of therapy-avoidance that runs deeper than just a distaste for the hard work and anxiety that characterizes Exposure and Response Prevention therapy. There is this deep-seated worry that ERP will not only erase OCD and anxiety from their lives– but a part of themselves.
I didn’t like to talk about this with people because it seemed so contrary to everything I stood for. How could I hate OCD with everything inside of me– and yet still cling to it with such a quiet desperation? It made no sense, and even to this day, I still have not figured it out.
But I wanted to talk about it on my blog because it’s a real thing– a real thing that sometimes prevents sufferers from the relief that is available to them. I don’t know a lot about this strange phenomenon, but I do know this: I was worried about losing my personality, reputation, and desperation for Christ, but now that my OCD is under control, I am finally the Jackie I was supposed to be; I am still a deep thinker but now my thoughts are productive and not circular, and I actually have a greater capacity for deep thought because I am not sent reeling in terror by my thoughts; and I finally feel the nearness of God. Whatever was lost doesn’t compare to what I gained.
Recently, one of my blog readers asked me how I could tell when a thought came from OCD or from God, especially because one of my formerly intrusive thoughts was of a Bible verse that seemed to condemn me. She wrote, “I keep reading that Bible verses spontaneously popping into one’s head is a prime way God speaks to people.”
What a great question. One I’m not entirely sure I’m qualified to tackle, although I do know that the more I learn about and understand my OCD, the easier and easier it is for me to spot it. I can recognize its tell-tale voice from a mile away now. And while I don’t think that OCD = Satan (at all), they are both my enemies and they are both accusers.
Here is the (in flux) conclusion (is that an oxymoron?) I’ve come to:
I guess the big thing is this: when OCD would bring up that Bible verse, it worked like an intrusive thought and brought deep anxiety to me, but with God … his kindness leads us to repentance, not to shame. The voice of God showers me with kindness, grace, conviction that leads to change … but I don’t think God’s voice is one of shame and accusation. In fact, scripture even tells us that SATAN is the accuser and CHRIST is the one who defends us.
Remember, Satan used and twisted scripture when Christ was going through his temptations, so we know that it’s part of the devil’s arsenal.
My friend Erica told me something fascinating she’d once heard: “The Holy Spirit does not motivate with guilt.” Likewise, my incredibly wise writing professor Judy said, “I know the voice of God because that voice invites me to move closer without shame while the voice of Satan fills me with an electric dread that makes me want to hide.”
As always, I encouraged this blog reader to explore Exposure and Response Prevention therapy. In the four years since my ERP, the voice of OCD has become so easy to recognize. I finally know my enemy’s voice.
And better yet, I know my savior’s.
The sooner we acknowledge this, the closer we are to freedom.
If you’re an obsessive-compulsive who fears uncertainty,
please explore my website to learn about
cognitive-behavioral therapy, your next step.
I’m participating in an HR initiative at Northwestern in which I’ve been paired up with a mentor, and together we’re going through the book True North by Bill George, the former CEO of Medtronic. It’s all about “discovering your authentic leadership,” and in addition to reading the book, I’m doing all the exercises found in the accompanying workbook. The workbook exercises are deep and thought-provoking and quite fascinating.
I had to draw a timeline of my life up till this point, including the ups and downs, and then I had to split it up into five chapters and give each a name. Here are mine:
1. “She Thinks Too Much”: early childhood
2. “She Smiles on the Outside”: my school years, in which I was well-liked, very smart, and excelling at most things, except that my spiritual life and mental health were in shambles, though most people weren’t aware (hence, the chapter title)
3. “She REALLY Thinks Too Much”: the tumultuous college years and the year afterward, leading up to my OCD diagnosis
4. “Stumbling Toward Freedom”: the 5+ year search for the right medication and therapy … and for peace
5. “Redefining My Goals and Passions”: life right now
So, here’s the interesting part (I think).
I had to fill out this ginormous chart that asked the same four questions about each different chapter. One of the questions was, “What should I have done more or less of during this chapter?”
“Tate Couple” by Matthew Dartford
The answer to the first chapter was easy. I knew I needed to have more discussions and less secrecy. My childhood was full of so much fear, and I wish that I’d been willing to just sit with my parents and discuss those fears. Who knows– maybe it would have incited our family to help me seek the counseling I needed, even at that early age.
The answer to the second chapter was the same. More discussions, I wrote. I remember crying every single night for at least three years in a row, and I warned my sister (who shared a room with me) not to tell our parents. Now I look back and think, Why not? Why not tell? It would have been the first step toward healing.
Chapter three. I started to discover a theme as I wrote, MORE DISCUSSIONS!!! At this age, I was frozen in fear of the answers, so I wouldn’t even ask the questions. (If that makes sense.) The very thing that had made me cry for three years straight was “solved” in one conversation in one night with my mother. At this time of my life, around 10th grade, I started to try to share things more, since the secrets I’d kept from 5th to 8th grade had made me so sick.
In chapter four, I had to draw a smiley face next to my answer of More discussions. And it’s true– the awkward bungling that I survived jumping around from therapist to therapist and from medication to medication was its own kind of discussion, one I very nearly wanted to give up on (after a really bad reaction to Paxil, I almost threw in the towel and just accepted that this is how life is going to be). Yet, eventually those discussions lead me to cognitive-behavioral therapy, to freedom.
And so it was easy as I thought about chapter five, life as I know it right now, to think about what best suggestions to give myself for current and future success. Have more discussions, I wrote, because this openness, this sharing, this ability to lay one’s cards on the table is what rescues people.
It’s hard, people. I know that. But we need to talk about our issues. That’s the path toward freedom.
Lately, I’ve been talking to some brave, amazing people who are planning to tackle cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), specifically exposure and response prevention therapy (ERP). I know it’s the right next step, they tell me. Any advice?
Glad you asked. Here are my suggestions as you prepare for ERP.
1. Read and research! Don’t go into this (incredible but difficult) therapy with your eyes closed. I believe that the more you know about what ERP entails and what will be expected of you, the better. In fact, I have a friend who had done enough research on it that he realized only one or two sessions in that he knew more about ERP than the therapist did– instead of wasting time, my friend was able to stop meeting with that therapist and find an expert in ERP.
2. Have an open heart. ERP is not the same as talk therapy. You will be given homework and made to go through exposures that are intended to spike your anxiety. Before I started ERP, my psychiatrist gave me this advice: “Think of a mother, Jackie. A mother would do anything to help her child. You must be willing to do anything to help yourself.” By its very nature, you will be expected to do things that you do not want to do (AT ALL). Do them anyway.
3. Surround yourself with the RIGHT support system. What you need are cheerleaders, people who will be your biggest fans and encouragers. What you absolutely do NOT need are enablers– because they will only be hindering the ERP process. Educate your closest friends about what ERP entails and ask them upfront to not baby you or enable your OCD. When they offer you reassurance or do anything to enable your obsessions and compulsions, they are siding with your disorder against you, instead of with you against your disorder. This is going to be hard for both sides. Tough love is not fun … but it is good.
4. If you’re the kind of person who prays, pray hard.
For those of you who have experienced ERP, what advice would you add?
Mine is growing every day. I am so happy to be who I am.*
*Could not have said this five years ago. Thank you, Jesus.
I remember days when my brain worked like a manic assembly line, working, working, always working– and not in a good way. Those days, I’d carve out time reserved for obsessions, for list-making, for mental reassurances. Car rides were killer– especially those long stretches on boring I-90– and could throw me into panic mode. At night, I’d lie awake in bed, drowning in circular thought.
And that was the thing: my mind was racing, but it never got anywhere. Ten minutes or an hour or a week later, I’d still be chewing on the same things, exerting so much effort for no gain.
I was programmed. When there was a moment, a pause, a hesitation, my head would fly to a dark place. And then it would battle its way back out. Over and over and over (and over and over and over and over and over …). So useless, so fruitless, and so much energy spent, so much time wasted.
The by-products of OCD are not worth the efforts.
These days, my mind is still working hard– but in a good, healthy, productive way. I listen to audiobooks while I get ready in the morning, in my car, while I exercise, as I fall asleep. I let the wonder of literature engage my mind and thoughts, and it feels healthy, like solving a difficult puzzle or marveling at philosophy. I write every day– blogging, poetry, my novel– and it’s like climbing a mountain. My brain is a muscle, flexing and growing stronger. My conversations with friends are deep and meaningful and far more important than just seeking out temporary comfort.
When thinking hurts in a bad way, you need to re-wire your brain.
This applies to more than just CBT/ERP. This applies to life.
JACKIE LEA SOMMERS 