OCD Reflections

It's been A LONG time.  In fact, so long that I'm just relieved to see that so many of the wonderful bloggers that were out there before are still around.  I'm grateful to be able to come back to this world and know that it is still here. My life has drifted away from focusing so much on my OCD (which is good) but I have also drifted away from actively fighting it on a daily basis (which is not so good).  In fact, I've found it's easy to forget how much I'm letting things slip when I am not checking in with a therapist as frequently and when my life is so full of other things.  I've been working up a storm, but in-between, when I'm at home and on the weekends, the problems persist.  I've just gotten really good at working around them.  I want to return to this world, though, and to keep fighting and sharing my stories along the way.  This place has been an invaluable outlet in the past - a forum to relate, share, learn, and feel "normal" ...

I have a home!!  Okay, well, a NEW home.  It's not like I was homeless or anything before, but I was starting to wonder if I was going to end up that way... My lease is up at the end of the month, and while I had the option to stay through June, I really didn't want to since all of my roommates will be moved out by then.  So over the last month or so I have been madly scouring the area I want to move to for an affordable place to live.  And it was difficult, to say the least.  I was looking for a studio/single just for myself, but living alone, especially in my city, is not cheap!  But it didn't seem like I had much of a choice. Then a friend of mine suggested that I look online for someone who was trying to find a roommate.  My therapist suggested the same.  I hadn't even really considered it.  I mean, I thought, "I don't want to bother someone else with my rituals, and I don't know if I can handle the pressure of having to keep them und...

Life has been a bit crazy-making lately.  A few weeks ago I started to titrate down from my uber high dose of Zoloft (sertraline) so that I could try out Prozac.  And as I much as I feel like the Zoloft never really noticeably affected my thought patterns or my ability to fight my OCD, I have been hesitant to proceed in going down in dosage.  Meanwhile, my psychiatrist is out on leave, and I have been further hesitant to call the psychiatrist covering for her in her absence.  But I haven't proceeded with the schedule for decreasing medication dosage, and I should probably talk to someone about it. Part of my hesitation to going down in dose is rooted in OCD, I believe.  OCD is probably also the reason I stayed on the Zoloft (and my super high dose) for so long.  It didn't seem to be harming me.  I WAS getting better, albeit ever so slowly, as I continued to move forward in CBT.  And if my ability to progress was, in fact, facilitated by the meds...

Thanks a lot, rocks.  Thanks for getting in my way all the time.  Don't you have anything better to do?  Some place better to be?  Get your own awesome life so you can stop intruding on mine.  Oh, that's right.  You're a rock.  You can't. An idea that I have often found helpful lately is an analogy related to mindfulness.  I have to admit, often when you are in the trenches, when you are in the throes of anxiety and so on, mindfulness, the practice of just allowing yourself to have thoughts, to let them come and go without placing judgment on them, can seem like a joke.  When I am freaked out, the recommendation to just have the thought that sparked the anxiety and resist performing compulsions seems like a long shot.  Actually, it seems worse than a long shot.  The notion seems absolutely ridiculous.  It's like trying to bail yourself out of a sinking ship using a teaspoon.  Aka, it seems like a solution that is doomed...

As the holiday season arrives, I sometimes think about how OCD affected this time of year for me in ways I never knew.  When I was struggling with scrupulosity, there was of course compulsive prayer surrounding the religious holiday of Christmas.  That was the most obvious form my compulsions took.  I felt compelled not only to pray, but to pray "right."  If I had bad thoughts while I was praying or if forgot important parts (or if I simply suspected that I might have forgotten important parts),  I had to start over.  So, secretly in hidden in my bedroom with the door closed, I prayed, hoping no one interrupted. Because, if they did, I would then have to stop, pretend like I had been doing something else, only to start over yet again as soon as they were gone. Sometimes if I couldn't seem to get the prayer "right" I would begin reciting the words aloud, hoping to make them stick, hoping to make them somehow seem more final and sure so that I wouldn't ha...

Reality:  there's really only one way to find my way back, and it's not by constantly retracing where I've been... It's that time again.  I'm stuck in that post-home session funk where I try to decide what to do next - whether to dig myself out or to give up for the day.  I'm going to try to sort my thoughts out about it here so I can do what I need to do to get better! Today I did a lot of good exposure work with one of my therapists.  The big exposure of the day was...showering!!  Woo.  My showers are now under 30 minutes but still heavily ritualized, meaning that I do everything in a very specific order, in a specific way, a specific number of times.  Deviation from this routine or lack of focus while completing it can lead to repetition until I'm sure I got it "right."  Well, today we took a nice big wrecking ball to my shower regimen.  And this is how we did it:  my therapist timed me as usual, but instead of just calling out h...

There are weeks where I really just feel like I am moving forward for the sole sake of moving forward.  Step by step, inch by inch.  This is one of those weeks.  I am finding that even the simplest of things are starting to feel like monumental tasks again - brushing my teeth, making my bed, washing my face, getting dressed.  Even writing here, which is usually quite enjoyable, seems somewhat like a task I must goad myself into doing. I think a lot of it has to do with the ups and downs of progress in fighting my OCD.  As I get better there are periods where I really challenge the thoughts I have and the urge to perform compulsions.  I feel free and alive.  The shackles seem temporarily removed.  And then I get used to that level of freedom.  It is no longer exciting, and those chains that still remain seem like an even heavier burden to bear.  What suddenly seemed easier with less weight to carry, starts to seem harder again.  T...

I have a fear of overcoming my OCD. Like a shadow, OCD will probably always be following me, changing in shape and size over time.  I can choose to fight it, to attempt to chase away the discomfort it causes, but it's not going anywhere.  There will probably always be different OCD fears that come and go throughout my life, and the less I fight those fears, those obsessions, the less likely they are to bother me, including my "fear of overcoming my OCD."  The less time I spend trying to make my shadow go away, the less I will notice its presence.  Or, conversely, the less time I spend making sure it is still there, the less I will fear losing it. Wait what?  No, that's right.  I'm actually afraid of losing my OCD sometimes.  And I feel bad about this because so many people would probably love to be rid of their OCD and would be quite content never to see it again.  What kind of person "chooses" to keep a mental disorder?  "C...

( Yes this a picture of my toilet - well my former toilet in my previous apartment.  And yes, I did intentionally take said picture.  And there is, believe it or not, a reason it's here, right now, as part of this post...bear with me, it has a point, I promise! ) So I was reading a post on one of the blogs I follow today, ED Bites , and was struck by the author's seeming ability to read my mind.  (And apparently several other people's minds, too, looking at the comments.)  She always seems to pick an aspect of the ED/OCD/perfectionist approach to life and put it into words amazingly, so that it appears to spell out your habits and ways of thinking perfectly and better than you could have ever imagined.  In this particular post she was reflecting on her tendency to put off or save things she enjoyed "for later," or as a result of constantly delaying gratification, sometimes "for never."  She rations the pleasurable things in life, and in the meantime ...

So I've heard anxiety and discomfort described in a number of different ways:  panic, stress, nervousness, disgust, shame, etc.  Tack on the word "attack" after any of the above descriptors and you have a name for those episodes where said feelings overwhelm the person experiencing them.  While I have most certainly experienced all of these emotions as part of my OCD, they don't quite capture the essence of what I feel when when my anger and frustration is not directed at a certain event or situation, but rather at myself.  Those times are more like "self-hatred attacks."  That's really the best way to describe those times of pure self-loathing and reproach.  Not pleasant.  Not at all. I'm sure everyone experiences self-hatred from time to time, or even frequently.  But sometimes I feel like I have molded it into a highly refined art in and of itself.  Don't get me wrong.  I certainly don't presume to have the market corned on self-rep...

Sometimes when I come home from a vacation (or sometimes when I start one) I find myself floundering to adjust to the changes around me.  I like vacations.  I also like coming home and getting back to my independent lifestyle - my schedule, my routine - especially after spending a significant amount time with my family.  But sometimes abruptly returning to my usual world leaves me feeling off balance and unsure how to proceed.  Basically, I feel lost. Being with my family, and only my family, is like existing in another universe.  When I am initially catapulted back into that environment, it's strange.  On the outside, I go on as usual.  I talk, I laugh, I smile and comment.  But part of me is somewhere else.  That part of me is distinctly aware of the sharp change in my surroundings, and I feel like I have to re-learn how to exist in that space.  Meanwhile, I keep a protective barrier around me, a bubble of reminders of "who I am."...

Over the past several days that I've been out of town, I've missed writing here and having the chance to read and respond to others' posts.  It actually makes me a little anxious being away, which is why I have been half trying to keep myself away intentionally and half avoiding it unintentionally because I don't want to write something incomplete.  I don't want to begin putting my thoughts down if I might have to stop before those thoughts have been captured accurately.  And, I have been avoiding reading and commenting on others' blogs because I have difficulty looking at just a few if I can't read them all.  I am always too anxious and eager to read more.  So, for the most part, I have been avoiding it altogether. Nevertheless, I think this has been good for me.  I still have a couple days more of my trip and separating myself from this site and the internet in general is probably a healthy change of pace.  Getting out of my head, out of my usual r...

Today was a ROUGH day for me, as much as I can let myself admit that.  I overslept this morning and got to my therapy appointment late.  Normally I can deal with this because I am just so glad to be there getting help, even if my time is cut short by my tardiness (often a product of some sort of OCD business...).  But today, wow, I just shut down.  I just didn't know what to say. Normally I am overly loquacious when it comes to therapy appointments.  I always seem to have a million things that I want to say or ask for which there is never enough time.  So it must have been strange for my therapist indeed, when I just kind of sat there, looking down at my exposure log, listening but making limited eye contact and not saying much in response.  I was just so wrapped up in my frustration and anger at myself.  I just couldn't seem to pull myself out of it long enough to really think and engage in the conversation.  Meanwhile, it seemed like the ...

I often have a hard time knowing what to do because I sometimes feel like I am forcing myself, or even choosing, to perpetuate my OCD through the performance of rituals.  I get confused and go around in circles in my head, wondering if, unlike everyone else out there with OCD, I should be held more responsible for my symptoms and am less deserving of help because I might actually be "making myself" have the disorder.  However, trying to figure this question out is next to impossible, and I suspect that needing an answer is really just another compulsion - feeling like I need to know the answer to this before I can engage fully in treatment is just another OCD trap. On the flip side, I often have a hard time with myself because I feel like I should be performing more rituals and doing them better.  Instead of feeling bad for choosing to do compulsions, as described above, I feel bad for not choosing to do them, as well.  After all that I have learned about OCD, ...