OCD Stockholm Syndrome

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.

freedom

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.