Do I really want to start grad school in January?
Am I just scared, or is it not what I want?
If I start, I want to finish. But what about all the LIFE that happens in the course of two years that might tempt me to stop?
Do I have the time? (Maybe.) Do I have the money? (No.) Do I have the creativity? (I’m not sure.)
Do I have the drive? (I think.)
I’ve written elsewhere on this blog about Exposure and Response Prevention therapy (ERP) and how different my life is after I underwent an intense 12 weeks of this type of cognitive-behavioral therapy. ERP is exactly what the name says it is: you are exposed to something that will trigger your obsessions and then you are prevented from responding with a compulsion that will relieve your anxiety.
For example, someone who has contamination obsessions and hand-washing compulsions might be made to touch garbage and then is not allowed to wash her hands. Instead, she sits with that anxiety, feeling it intensely. If someone has HOCD obsessions and seeking reassurance compulsions, she might have to look through a Victoria’s Secret catalog and is not allowed to ask, “Am I gay? Am I straight?”
So, what happens when you have Pure-O obsessions? What if your obsession is that you will kill your newborn daughter and your compulsion is to stay away from her crib? What if your obsession is that you’re going to blaspheme God and go to hell and your compulsion is repeating a prayer in your head?
Then what? You can’t really kill your daughter (um, big DUH there, but you get it!) and you can’t really go to hell, so how in the world are you able to practice an exposure then?
“little sad song” by *TrixyPixie on deviantART
Imaginal exposures, baby. Brilliant and brutal.
In situations like these, what you might be expected to do is to write down all the ways you could kill your daughter, read it into a digital recorder, and then listen to it over and over. Or maybe you’ll create a story in which you go to hell, where you’re forever condemned, and you read that story again and again.
If you’re an obsessive-compulsive, trust me, these imaginal exposures are going to FREAK. YOU. OUT. They will be so triggering and so terrifying that your anxiety is going to spike, no problem.
Meanwhile, no compulsions allowed.
Meanwhile, ERP is re-wiring your brain.
Meanwhile, you’re stepping toward freedom. And “all” you had to do was listen to a story.
This was my particular brand of ERP actually. I had to listen to my recording for about 80 minutes a day until my anxiety levels (self-measured at the beginning, middle, and end) decreased by 50%. For the first ten weeks or so, my anxiety levels were NOT dropping, and I very nearly gave up. I mean, why put myself through this misery and terror every day if it was doing no good?
But then.
Sometime during week eleven, those anxiety levels started to drop. I developed a whole new way of looking at my intrusive thoughts. I tiptoed up to OCD. I can still remember the day when I was listening (again) to that horrid recording, and instead of feeling anxious, my thought was, “This is getting so annoying.”
And then I laughed … because … because finally. You know what I mean.
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.”
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 love this quote.
For years and years, I tried to delete doubt from my life,
tried to eliminate uncertainty.
But it turns out that my favorite poems don’t rhyme.
The Wednesday before Easter, my dear friend Ashley and I went to a performance of “Kingdom Undone,” which was showing at the Southern Theater in Minneapolis. This was a story of days leading up to Christ’s death, but the emphasis … was on Judas Iscariot.
The betrayer. The traitor. But in this play, a lover of Christ who misunderstood just what the coming of Christ’s kingdom would truly look like. A zealous believer who thought he was doing what was right, even what was needed of him.
It was fascinating. Afterward, Ashley and I could not quit talking about Judas and his role in Christ’s death, both of us eager to return to Scripture to measure our thoughts against Truth.
I want Judas to be redeemed. So badly. Mostly because I think that would make for the best story.
That alarmed me for a little bit, made me really uncomfortable. Was I imagining that I could make an “improvement” on the gospel story (if Judas was not under grace)? The gospel is my FAVORITE story. It’s like how I’d feel if someone wanted to change the ending to The Last Battle or something. (Potentially– I still have not totally landed on what I think was Judas’ fate. Although scripture does say, “Satan entered into him.” But we also do know that he regretted his choices– deeply.)
Anyway, it’s good for this obsessive-compulsive to sit with troublesome uncertainty. Once upon a time, these kinds of questions would have collapsed me, but now I’ve learned to sit with them.
…
Another of my friends emailed me this week with an unrelated faith crisis as she struggles to reconcile the (vengeful, confusing, sometimes bloodthirsty) God of the Old Testament with the (merciful, loving, gracious) Christ of the New Testament. They are, after all, one and the same. But she loves Jesus, she told me, and is pissed at the OT God and trying to struggle her way through the dissonance.
I wonder the same thing sometimes too. The Old Testament and New seem so vastly different. But I know that the Law was a tutor to lead us to Christ, and I know that the God of the Old Testament orchestrated the whole beautiful gospel from before time began, so they do flow together. I know that God welcomed Gentiles like me in order to make Israel jealous, and I am forever grateful to be a wild shoot grafted into the natural tree.
This post doesn’t have a lot of answers, and I think that’s okay. I’m learning to ask the tough questions and to sit without an answer, wait in that uncomfortable silence because God is still holy there.
JACKIE LEA SOMMERS 