the two biggest liars I know

Posted on November 27, 2012 by Jackie Lea Sommers

The two biggest liars I know:

1) Satan, the father of lies.

2) Obsessive-compulsive disorder.

And one of the most often-repeated and terrifying lies is this: you will always feel this way.

It’s not true. It’s not only a lie but a dangerous one– it pushes us to do something to relieve the anxiety. And then those compulsions become their own monsters. We build our lives on this ugly foundation of deception.

Thoughts are just thoughts; they do not necessitate actions. OCD tells lies like you will hurt your child, you will cause someone to kill himself, if you don’t do that just right then something bad will happen, it is all your responsibility.

LIES.

You do not keep the world spinning on your own.

In fact, you don’t keep it spinning at all.

Learn the enemy’s voice– and when you hear it, know that what it says is a lie. It’s the only language it speaks.

holidays are hard for some of us

Posted on November 26, 2012 by Jackie Lea Sommers

Last year, I posted that Christmas isn’t fun for everyone, and today I am thinking again how that is true. And not only Christmas, but other holidays too.

Thanksgiving is just behind us, and to be honest, I am glad. Mine was fine, very lowkey– I spent it with my sister and brother, eating pizza and banana cream pie, watching the Dallas game and hushing my voice when the Cowboys fell behind the Redskins and my brother raged at the TV screen. It was fun, very chill, lazy, and we all met up at Mom and Dad’s house, even though the parents were in Missouri to see Grandma and the rest of Mom’s family.

But it’s these winter holidays that do me in. While everyone else is giddy with anticipation, I am anxious mostly for them to be OVER. Somehow there is an expectancy surrounding the actual holiday, something that stresses me out and makes me just want to return to normalcy.

I think, for me, it’s a combination of the cold weather (it snowed all afternoon in Minnesota on Thanksgiving), the claustrophobia of bundling up in jackets and scarves, real or imagined seasonal depression, and memories of high school, when the holidays were the hardest.

1997. Thanksgiving. It was the first real breakdown of my life. I can remember it like it was yesterday and not fifteen years ago. Was God real? How could anyone ever really know? And if I didn’t know, then wasn’t I hellbound? (Such a paradox, I know– if there was no God or heaven, then there would also be no hell.) I was in 10th grade, and OCD was swallowing me whole, and it would still be another seven years before it would even have a name.

I was in Missouri with the rest of the family, breaking away from the games and conversation and cooking upstairs to retreat to Grandma’s basement, lock myself in the bathroom, and sob. The ground had been taken from underneath my feet, and all I could do was weep– all while hiding it from the rest of the family, all those happy Christians upstairs, secure in their beliefs.

I can picture myself now, doubled over on the bathroom floor, lost and sad and scared and not understanding that God Himself could supercede my disbelief and make Himself known to me. It was a dark year that followed. I was scared of everything, especially of dying without knowing that God was real. I held my breath when I’d pass a car on the highway, knowing I was inches from my death– and maybe eternal death.

OCD, you thief. I hate you with such intensity.

For years after that, I could not return to Missouri without being triggered into a complete relapse which would take weeks to recover from. Once I went to college, I refused to return. I wonder what my mom’s side of the family thought– if they wondered if I was stuck-up or selfish for not making that 11-hour drive to see them. It was only once a year, for goodness sakes. They didn’t know any of the background, didn’t know the way that just crossing that state border into Missouri had become the instant switch for me to question my faith.

Christmas stumbled along after Thanksgiving, and it was just as hard. And so, these holidays over the years cemented themselves into difficult seasons that I would have to survive. And even though November and December are nothing like they were even ten years ago, those memories are strong.

I know there are a lot of people out there who will have such a hard time this season, those of you who have Christmas hang over you like a stormcloud, who will breath a sigh of relief when you return to “life as usual” on the day after New Years. I’m so sorry, and I totally understand. I hope that this year will be different for you– that God will supernaturally supercede your painful memories and depression and general feelings of wrongness, and that He will give you joy in your hearts instead of these.

As Christmas approaches, my prayer for you is this: Jesus Christ, You are the Word that became flesh, a holy incarnation that blows my mind every time I stop to consider it. Please overwhelm us with the sacred mystery of it all in ways that memories, depression, OCD, anxiety, and other mental illnesses can’t defeat. Jesus, be the mighty redeemer that You have been and continue to be and REDEEM this holiday season for those of us who need a rescue. Hold us in real ways that we can feel. Amen.

the colors

Posted on November 25, 2012 by Jackie Lea Sommers

As far as colors go, my favorite is a thick, heavy red – a deep red, a red with a spoonful of brown. Then an olive green, sage, light-colored but strong enough that it could never be mistaken for a pastel. Then gold – but not yellow – true gold, goldenrod, a marigold tiptoeing across the line toward a field of pumpkins.

I love muted blues that seem so rare and precious, a petrol, for instance. That particular mix of blue, green, and gray reminds me of a picture of the Tulsa sky I saw in a book. That blue hit me so hard it landed a line in one of my poems.

I love when white is washed in a watercolor, just a slight trace of the concentrate left to whisper to the otherwise blank canvas.

I love terrific greens that knock you senseless. I love the purples that really are too good for you (and know it) but abide you anyway, notably the plums.

Navy is an old friend, a good listener. Brown is like the sexy girl in glasses you never noticed until today.

Holy Communion

Posted on November 24, 2012 by Jackie Lea Sommers

I am not even joking, every Sunday morning after the pastor has preached and prayed and the band begins to play, it is all I can do to keep from running down that aisle toward the communion table. I am always eager for that bread and cup, that holy reminder of my Savior’s body and blood, and as I swallow in the pew, I think, This is the best meal of my week.

I am so grateful for Jesus Christ’s sacrifice, and I think this eucharistic sacrament is a beautiful and sacred way to celebrate it.

what I call good writing

Posted on November 23, 2012 by Jackie Lea Sommers

There are essentially three reasons I will like a book:

1) The writing is beautiful. If the writing is lyrical, or the prose almost reads as poetry, or if the writer has great diction and uses sounds to her advantage, I’m captured. When an author does a dance with words and creates images that burst like berries on the tongue, I’m sold.

2) The plot is fascinating. I love books that have twists and turns and surprises. I don’t need them to be action-packed, just interesting, with interesting scenes and a great storyline.

3) The message is profound. When the story tugs at my heart or opens up my mind to new ways of understanding something, the book touches (and sometimes changes) my life.

Some books fall under one of these categories, and it is enough to make me love it. For example, Annie Dillard’s book For the Time Being is beautifully written (for that matter, pretty much anything she writes is!), but there is not really a plot to it, nor did its message truly change my life. Harry Potter has a thrilling storyline that completely pulled me in, and the series also has a wonderful theme of good versus evil, but I wouldn’t say that Rowling (in those books) is a lyrical writer, although she does have her moments! Hinds’ Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard is an allegory, and as such, the plot is pretty obvious, but the message deeply touched me and wrenched tears from me left and right. As you know, The Chronicles of Narnia are my absolute favorite for their fun plots and the deep truths in them, but the writing is not as beautiful as some other things Jack Lewis has written.

To me, some of the best writers are those who combine all three of these elements. Some of the best examples I have of this are The Book Thief by Markus Zusak (gorgeous writing, super fun storyline, excellent message), C.S. Lewis’s space trilogy (the writing is so masterful it makes me want to curl up inside of it, the plot is riveting, and the takeaways are tremendous), Peace Like a River by Leif Enger (literary writing at its very finest, interesting characters and storyline, an underlying message that is like a rock to stand on), and The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle (breathtaking writing, intriguing fantasy plot, message that lingers long).

Your turn. What makes you like a book? Are you drawn to one of these three reasons over the others? What are your best examples of books that fit these categories?

I am thankful for

Posted on November 22, 2012 by Jackie Lea Sommers

And you?

*It’s always hard to name names in something like this because I have a million people that I adore, and I know I will always leave someone out. That said, I will say that I am grateful for coffee dates with Ashley and internet chats with Kristin Luehr. I love being a total nerd with Dora and meeting up with Anna to write. I love Tracy’s sense of humor and Cindy’s deep way of thinking (and all the writing feedback!). I miss Megs’s infectious laughter. Des, I love being your roomie and friend, and I am so grateful for all the chats we have before your early bedtime! Eir, you are a true delight. Elyse, a ten-hour conversation wouldn’t be long enough. Cait, our unfiltered friendship is totally weird and wonderful. I am so blessed to know Brooke and Lauren and Stacey and Mary and Jessica and Brittane and my writing group and all my lovely former roommates. The Voye girls are like a medicine to me. And everyone else who wasn’t mentioned by name, I love you too! God has truly blessed this writer with an amazing and encouraging community!

this artsy life

Posted on November 21, 2012 by Jackie Lea Sommers

May I just say that I love living in the Twin Cities of Minnesota, which boast the nation’s second highest number of arts opportunities per capita (after New York City)? Well, I do.

Here are my most recent adventures:

First, my friend Anna and I went to the Fitzgerald Theater, St. Paul’s oldest theater, to hear Erin Morgenstern, author of The Night Circus, be interviewed for Minnesota Public Radio and the Star Tribune’s “Talking Volumes” event. You may remember that I posted earlier this year about The Night Circus, which blew my mind and was one of my favorite books I read this year. It tells the story of two magicians in a competition who end up in love. Morgenstern was so sweet and unassuming, and she seemed legitimately surprised that so many people would show up to hear her interview. She talked about how the book is being made into a movie, and how the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is making a Night Circus line of perfume. Some musicians at the event had written a song called “Morgenstern’s Circus in C Minor.” It’s like fan fiction in different media! Absolutely loved it. Spin-off art!

I was very encouraged to hear Morgenstern speak because she was so real and told us that The Night Circus didn’t even have a plot when she first wrote it! It reminds me so much of the writing of Lights All Around, when, day after day, I would just sit down and write whatever was on my mind, hoping it would all eventually be “book-shaped,” Morgenstern’s word for it.

The next night, I went with Eir to the Mixed Blood Theater in Minneapolis to watch the musical “Next to Normal.” A musical about bipolar disorder … I wasn’t sure how it was going to be, but it was unbelievable! The music was beautiful, and the story was heart-breaking. I held in my tears for the whole two hours– but barely! To show such a deep depression through the evocative power of music just rended my heart. And for this obsessive-compulsive girl who has fought such similar battles, it struck so close to home! The depression, the sadness, the way it hurts the people you love, all the pills and the therapists and grasping at straws. If you ever have the opportunity to see this musical (which has been on Broadway in the past), please do. It may very well change you.

I love my cities. I never believed this smalltown farm girl would say something like that, but it’s so true!

I always think of Mpls as masculine and St. Paul as feminine. Is that weird?

Mrs. Beaver’s Concerns

Posted on November 20, 2012 by Jackie Lea Sommers

I get a kick out of this. Every. Single. Time.

all about CBT

Posted on November 19, 2012 by Jackie Lea Sommers

Some people have been asking for more details on cognitive-behavioral therapy, the incredible tool that God used to set me free from obsessive-compulsive disorder. It is my pleasure to share with you about CBT! Please note that I am not a mental health professional– but I did have a wildly successful experience with CBT and am a huge advocate.

This is the preferred method of treatment for OCD; specifically, it is called Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP). Long name, but actually, it is exactly what it says! The patient is exposed to something that triggers an obsession and then the response (the compulsion) is prevented. This therapy actually re-wires the brain– the brain physically changes in this therapy– and it helps an OC to live with uncertainty.

CBT either works or doesn’t in 12 weeks. My psychiatrist, national OCD expert Dr. Suck Won Kim, told me beforehand that it would be worthless to meet with a CBT therapist longer than 12 weeks and that Dr. Chris Donahue wouldn’t ask me to meet any longer than those 12 weeks. Three months. You can handle anything for three months, right?

The first couple weeks were most intake. Dr. Donahue asked lots of questions to help assess what my obsessions and compulsions were, and what triggered the obsessions. He was basically probing to find what buttons to push later: “How much would that stress you out if you couldn’t do XYZ after ABC happened?” and that sort of thing. I knew it would all come back to “haunt” me, but I was all in. This honestly felt like my last hope for a normal, happy life.

I took the YBOCS (Yale-Brown Obsessive-Compulsive Scale) test and found out that I was a moderate case, which surprised me. But then again, there are some people who can’t leave their homes, can’t touch a loved one, people who wash their hands with Brillo pads and bleach.

Dr. Donahue outlined the measurable goals of my treatment plan: a fifty-percent reduction in distress when focused on upsetting stimuli and six consecutive weeks of no avoidance or rituals. Three months was starting to sound like a long, long time.

Then Dr. Donahue and I wrote a story together. Well, he started it and it was my homework to finish it. Since my obsessions were primarily focused around hell, we had to do imaginative therapy (since, obviously, there is no way to really, literally expose me to hell). So I wrote this story about an imagined worst day ever (I mean, really bad– I go to hell in it). If you’d like me to share with you the story, I will.

My therapist recorded this story (along with his own additions to it) digitally, and I was sent home with an 18-minute recording from the pit of hell. My job was to listen to it four times a day– two times through, twice a day– every day and record my anxiety levels when prompted. And I needed to do this consistently until my anxiety levels reduced by 50% from what they were the first time through. Oh, and I couldn’t perform my compulsions either to make myself feel better.

It. Was. Awful.

I won’t lie to you, listening to that recording– that exposure– was like torture. It was being triggered left and right and not being allowed to do anything to ease my anxiety. Doesn’t this sound like some type of cruel and unusual punishment? It’s what it felt like, and I honestly wanted to quit at about week 8 or 9 when my anxiety levels weren’t dropping.

I hated it. It made me sick to my stomach, made my heart race, terrified me. I tried to listen to the recording right away in the morning, in order to get half of my required listenings out of the way early in the day, but eventually, I couldn’t do it that way anymore– the weight of beginning my morning in such misery made it hard to get out of bed, and I had to push it all back later in the day just so that I wouldn’t dread waking up.

But something clicked around week 10 or 11. Praise. The. Lord. It clicked, and all of the sudden, I was in the driver’s seat again! I controlled my OCD and not the other way around. One day I was listening to the recording– this device of torture and grief– and I thought, This is so annoying. And then I smiled and thought, Finally.

This, of course, is a brief description of my experience. I could tell you so many more things– about how hard it was, about what other exposures look like for other kinds of OCs, about the tools Dr. Donahue gave me for success. It’s all detailed in my fictionalized account of it, my novel Lights All Around, which you can read here.

It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do– but not as hard as living for 20 OCD-riddled years without help. I hated to go through CBT, but I loved to have gone through it. It rescued me and those twelve weeks are a defining period of my life. I remember being so angry and upset with my therapist, absolutely despising him and the exposures, and feeling certain that I was going to fail at this, my last shot at freedom. I very nearly quit.

But that moment came right before everything changed.

If OCD is ruining your life, you need to undergo cognitive-behavioral therapy. It will be hard. It will be hell. But it will be worthwhile.

Questions, anyone?

To read a stark account of my life before and after CBT, check out this blog post!

JACKIE LEA SOMMERS

Author & Advocate