Lifestyles of the Mentally Ill

So when I write these blogs, I do a lot of self reflection. I think the blogs I write on mental illness are therapeutic, things start dawning on me. It comes together like a + b = c, and then here comes the spiral of depression. So yes, I’m back in therapy. I get really down on myself because I feel like because of my anxiety and OCD I let people down basically. And that’s pretty much what I’m going to write about today – the poor people who had to deal with my mental illness. Sadly mental illness doesn’t just affect you, it affects those around you, too.

So lately I have been doing a favor for those who have had to deal with my mental illness from my past. I have been setting them free. Especially those that I feel don’t get it or have suffered from my mental illness.

In my early adult years, I guess I was a bit clingy. I didn’t have many friends, and I would try to find a way to stay friends with my old friends even though a lot of time it wasn’t a two way street. I was always putting forth the effort to keep them in my life when I should’ve been letting them go.

My childhood friend was the closest friend I ever had and that was one of the hardest breakups for me. She started pushing me away as we got closer to our high school years which does tend to happen to a lot of people. She was pretty much the only friend I had, and I couldn’t lose her so I tried hold onto our friendship instead of just letting her go. I was upset with her. How dare she be so cruel!! But now that I look back, I understand, and don’t blame her. She had tried to include me with her new friends, but I was too weird, too quiet. Why would she want to give up on these cool normal people and just hang with me? I should of let her go a long time ago. I did learn from this that friendship is a two way street. If the other person isn’t participating, then cut ’em loose.

The people that got it the worst though was my family. My poor mom having to deal with my “psycho” on a daily basis. My OCD continuously asking her questions until it felt exactly right and the types of questions. How did she put up with me? I know a mother’s love, but still… Then my sister got to see it all play out, and she got some of the brunt, too. She had me live with her my senior year. I should’ve never done that. That was a huge mistake.

If I had to do it all over again, I would’ve stayed in South Carolina, and attended University of South Carolina – Aiken, and just stayed away from my family. Gave them the break they deserved.

My sister, I tried to cling onto her, too. I always looked up to her and wanted to be like her. I always wanted to be close, but why would she want a sister like me? She deserved better. She deserved a sister like herself. Why would you want a sister who has OCD, anxiety, social anxiety, and who is just all around awkward? Actually, my friend would’ve been a good sister to her. That is the kind of sister she deserved. My sister was perfect and I was the black sheep.

I should’ve set her free a long time ago, too. But I always tried to cling to her. I was the one always trying to call her, always trying to reach out to her. She never really reached out to me. She was busy with her life, and her family. She kept me at arm’s length and told me it was too far to come visit me. I always went to her house to hang out and see my nieces. Again, it was feeling like a one way street.

So now I have finally given her her space. If she wants to be a part of my life I will always be here, but I’m not going to be the one who always makes the effort. I’m done with that.

Then there is Chris. He accepts me flaws and all. He meant our vows on our wedding day. For better or for worse. We are both pretty messed up so maybe that’s the reason why we found each other. I think my parents thought I would find some well off Christian man who would take care of me. But honestly, I don’t think there are too many men out there that would want a woman like me. Maybe Chris wasn’t who they had in mind, but he was what I needed. I became strong and learned to take care of myself. That is what I really needed. I can tell Chris the most off the wall stuff, and he can take it. I’m glad I have someone for the long haul. And I definitely can’t judge him for any flaws especially since he has to deal with mine.

Isn’t it weird how sometimes you are closer to your friends than you are your family? How your friends get you, but you family doesn’t? Well like they say you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family.

The Beauty of Aging

I am now over forty, and my favorite part about aging is the wisdom it brings.  I’m sure I thought I had things pretty much figured out when I was in my 20’s, but I was so wrong.  I thought I was an intellectual, but I was far from it.

I have been through so much since then.  I always thought everyone had it more together than me.  I thought I was the one with the worst problems.  I put people on pedestals, but not anymore.  Between then and now, I have seen pastors fall, couples I swore had storybook romances get divorced, and the perfect families break up.  I figured out that people were just like me and didn’t have it all figured out, and some even had it worse.  I thought people wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me, but I found out what types of people could be attracted to me, and it was scary.

Sadly, now some things don’t surprise me as much anymore.  Breakup and people losing faith are becoming more and more of the norm.  But in these days, I have found happiness in wisdom.  I have found my voice, and I’m more likely not to hide anymore.  I have found comfort in finding others are actually more like me than I thought.  That even though I’ve come across some evil people, there are still a lot of good ones out there.   Ones that are willing to accept me for who I am and are not afraid of my issues.  People who really seem to care and love me unconditionally.  I am more open with others about my struggles, and they are real with me, and I love it!.

Yes, I had to go through a lot to get to this place, but I made it.  I am a survivor.  I have been through a lot of bad situations, but I made it through and gained experience, confidence, and wisdom.  I am so glad that I wasn’t spoiled and have been forced to face problems that sometimes the Comfortable don’t get to experience.  No one did it for me, I had to do it myself.  I wear that like a badge of honor.

Sometimes I wonder if I would go back to my twenties with the knowledge that I have now.  That answer varies from day to day, but for the most part, I really don’t want to go back and start all over.  I went through what I went through to become the person I am today, and I am liking that person more and more so I think I’ll just ride it out and see what happens in the years to come.  Sure I have gained a lot of wisdom, but there is so much more I haven’t learned and much more wisdom to be gained.

The Need to Write

I hate that I haven’t been on in awhile.  Life has been keeping me busy.  I’ve been working overtime at my job, and whatever has been left over of myself I have been giving to my family and home.  The daily struggle is real.  And it doesn’t really leave me much alone time.  I know a lot of you can relate.

I want to do this blog today, first of all, because I want to get back into writing.  I don’t care if no one reads it.  I just want to get back into the habit.  Blogging is the best way for me to do this because I hate writing by hand, I’d much rather type, and anyone who has seen my writing can tell it’s a struggle.  I guess I could type my blogs on my computer and save them, but then I’ll just forget about them, and then their meaning is lost on everyone including me.  I enjoy getting my thoughts and ideas out there even if I don’t get a single read or “like”.   I like thinking maybe I’ll make a connection.  I don’t want to write out of vanity because I think I’m such a great writer.  I want to write to get the creative juices flowing and work at doing something I enjoy.  This is my art.

For awhile, I was having some sort of writer’s block.  I couldn’t think of anything to write about.  It was in the back of my mind for awhile then I knew I had to do something about it.  I need to get back to writing.  And as soon as I confronted it, ideas just kept coming and coming.  Then I ran into the problem which one do I start first.  So here I am making time for myself and my blog.  I really feel I need to be doing this.  This is my passion and I need to make it so.  Thanks for hanging in there those who at least acknowledge that this blog exists.  So here we go….

 

Life Overwhelming

Why is it in life you have some many things pulling you in so many directions?  Why can’t life be a little more simple?  You have kids, family, friends, health, faith and spirituality, work, financial, homelife, Me Time, and so much more just pulling and tugging at you in all directions, neverending.  And it is so hard to balance and to keep up.  Before you know it you are dragging and just don’t know what direction to go.  It is like a looming mountain in the distance all these things and obligations just fighting for your time.  Then people tell you stop your whining or cut more out of your life.  But you can’t because all these things that consume your time are equally important.  I just can’t cut out cleaning my house or not just hang out with my friends.  I need these things, they are very important (even though I have cut down time with friends considerably).  I can’t choose between my health and my faith.  They are both important.  I need to go to the gym to feed my health needs, but I also need to go to Church to satisfy my Spiritual needs.    Also, if I choose church over my health then I can burn myself out instead of getting the rest my body needs.  I would love to cut my job out.  That would be the first thing that would make the cut if I didn’t need the money to make a living.  Ugh.  It would’ve definitely freed up more time though.

LIFE….why are you so overwhelming?!?!?  Some days I just don’t know if I can do it anymore.  But what good comes from giving up?  Everything is just going to pile up anyways, and then I’ll be behind.  It’s neverending………

Oh shit, I just realized….why am I writing this blog when I could be doing something else.  *sigh*  Alright, I’m outta here.  Time to go to work.

Shame

When I was going to my therapist, Nancy, she helped me to attain some revelations about myself.  I had mentioned to her when I talk I often freeze a lot or have a hard time getting my words out.  She had mentioned that this could be a sign of “Shame”.  After she had told me that, I was taken aback.  I had knew I had experienced anxiety, fear, unworthiness, loneliness, self-loathing, but shame?  This was new to me, and it also made sense.  It really clicked with me.  She gave me this list with points about shame.  I guess a guideline on how to recognize shame in your life.  I wanted to share it.  I can relate with so many of these.  It’s actually kind of scary.  It is helpful though, and maybe you can identify, too.

Shy

When I was taking riding lessons, there was this pony that had just moved into our stables.  The pony was pretty isolated previously, and wasn’t socialized properly with other ponies or horses.  The pony didn’t know how to act with the other horses and ponies in it’s new environment because of the lack of socialization.  I felt so bad for this little guy, cause I knew what it was like.

I know when my OCD began, but I really wish I could go back and pinpoint when my social anxiety began.  All I remember was before I was five, I was a pistol.  At church at the children’s sermon, I would get in trouble all the time because I would run around the altar instead of sitting and listening.  I definitely wasn’t shy then.  I believe that was when we lived in Alexandria, IN.  After that we moved to Mount Vernon, IL, and that I believe was the first time I attended Sunday school class by myself.  I remember the anxiety of that.  I wanted to go with my sister, but I wasn’t allowed to go to her class.  I remember feeling very awkward and not saying much.

We then moved to Midland, MI.  I remember not wanting to go up to the children’s sermons at our new church.  Then I started Kindergarten.  I remember starting out being pretty boisterous there.  I had to sing the loudest, I sang while I colored, and I prayed bent over basically reaching my feet with my hands.  Kids started making fun of me, and my Kindergarten teacher was pretty hard on me.  I remember practicing for a Christmas play, and the teacher had us sit boy girl boy girl, and at that time I didn’t like boys so I wanted to sit next to a girl, and I let a boy slide over so I could sit next to a girl.  Guess who got in trouble?  The worse part of Kindergarten though, was my teacher made me drink all my milk.  After lunch was nap time, and the kids who didn’t drink all their milk had to sit at the table and not participate in nap time until all their milk was gone.  Usually I would sit out the whole nap time.  It was me and another boy that took the longest.  I think I even had a dream about it once.  I remember her putting me and this boy in a closet to get us to drink all our milk.  I believe this had to have been a dream.  I never liked milk and I found out later in life that I’m lactose intolerant.

I also did make a friend in Kindergarten who was an odd duck like me, but he was held back the next year, so by the time I was ready for first grade I had no friends.  I stuck to myself, and barely talked to anyone at my school.  I did this for 8 years straight.

During those awkward teen years, I think that’s when I really started to self sabotage. That’s why I wasn’t successful at making friends with my best friend’s new friends.  It wasn’t intentional, I just didn’t know how to get out of the rut.  I wanted friends so bad, but I couldn’t figure out how to go about getting them.  I would start to make a friendship, and then I would say something stupid or embarrass myself, and then I would go back in my shell.  I didn’t realize you had to just pick yourself back up from your stumble and move on like nothing happened.  When things would start to go sour I gave up.  And why was that?  Because I was nothing.  When I was with a group of people I would stop and let them keep walking to prove, they didn’t even notice my existence.

I eventually moved to South Carolina.  I would think this is it.  Maybe I can finally get a group of friends.  People there really wanted to befriend me, and I had even gotten my first boyfriend.  I was actually looking forward to going to school in the morning, then I stumbled.  The self sabotage started to kick in.  All this self doubt would creep in and after a great 2 week relationship, I broke up with my boyfriend because he was immature once.  It didn’t bother me at all to friend zone him because I really didn’t think he would be in love with me.  Now that I look back I think he was, but at that time I couldn’t see it because I was unlovable.  You’d be a fool to be in love with me.  I guess I just thought he enjoyed my company.

Every once in awhile at that high school, a friendship would start to form, but then I would freak out because people would start to notice and I would have to start making friends with them and their friends and then I would just freak out and clam up.  It was definitely a pattern.  It was like I didn’t know how to make more than one friend.

Then the pattern followed me into adulthood.   I couldn’t make friends on the job.  I felt like a robot.  When I had conversations with people my personality didn’t really show through.  I would talk about things like toilet paper and swimming pools, and I felt as if people’s eyes would just glaze over.  Then I would notice and clam up.

When I became an adult, I was still quiet, obsessing, and self sabotaging my friendships.  I met my husband when I was 19.  He was handsome, and charming, and the closest thing to mentally stable compared to the other boys who liked me.  For some reason, I could open up to him even though I still couldn’t with other people.  I remember going to functions with him, and I would hang out with him and the guys while the girls would be in their own group.  My husband even mentioned, “Why don’t you hang out with them?” And honestly, I didn’t even know why I couldn’t.

I longed for close relationships with my husband’s sibling and their spouses, but I just felt like I would ruin them because I was too quiet and not fun.  Who would want to hang with a loser like me?  I was just so self conscious and judgmental towards myself.  I would dwell on the stupid things I would say, too.  They would come back to haunt me, and I would beat myself up.  Sometimes in the middle of a conversation even.  I would think I said something stupid, and then just withdraw as I would mentally over analyze everything I had just said.

It wouldn’t be until my late 30’s that I would start to overcome this.  With therapy and just taking some bold first steps, did I slowly come out of my shell.  I am still coming out of my shell to tell you the truth.  I am an introvert so I am always going to be a more quiet person, and I really don’t have any desire to become an extrovert either.  I am definitely learning about myself and accepting it.  Instead of trying to be what people want me to be, I am being true to myself.  So many thing have come together to help me to get to this point.

Now my husband no longer has to hear me ask him if I sounded okay or if I was too quiet.  I can handle holding my own now in a conversation.  I am also a good listener, and I think I am coming to realize how much people appreciate that, so being quiet sometimes isn’t a bad thing after all.

 

Oh and by the way, if you are shy don’t you hate it when people are so eager to point it out.  Like “Oh my gosh, you are so shy.  You never outgrew that.”  And so on and so forth.

Unlovable

It was bad enough having OCD, but having OCD and Anxiety brought about some unwanted ramifications.  Through these some bad seeds were planted, one seed that would come to bear fruit later in my life.  The feeling that I am unlovable.

I put my mom through torture and hell asking her the same questions over and over again to fulfill my compulsions.  One year on her birthday, she begged me to please not ask the “questions”.  She just wanted a break, a birthday present. But I couldn’t even do that.  I felt so bad.  I felt like I was a terrible daughter.  It didn’t help when someone would rub it in and remind me multiple times later in life of how I treated our mom.  It was like a cloud over my head that would never dissipate.

There was one person who thought I was doing these OCD things to get attention.  I would stare at usually the carpet until I got my release, and that person would say something like, “Don’t talk to Tammy, right now she is having a psycho moment.”  That person would also call me “Psycho”.  I believe that was their way of coping with what they didn’t understand.  OCD was still relatively unknown to most people at that time in the 80’s. This triggered me years later, just a few years ago actually, I was on the phone with someone at work and jokingly they called me “Psycho”.  I hadn’t been called that in so long, so it extremely triggered me.  I think the room started spinning.  I could have ran to the bathroom and cried at that very moment, but fortunately, I kept it together and took it in stride.

There was my perfect sister and then there was me.  Everyone looked up to her and she was popular.  Me I was the weird quiet one. She had the awesome 80’s hair that everyone wanted, was on homecoming court, and had boyfriends.  And me, I was an ugly duckling.  I had big glasses and braces and one friend.

Apparently, she did everything right, too, because I hardly ever seen her get in trouble, but I always seemed to do everything wrong.   My dad seemed to be a lot harder on me than my sister.  I didn’t eat right at the dinner table, and it would always bug my dad.  My mom would switch my seat around at the dinner table to avoid supper disappointments.  Sometimes my teeth would hit my fork or I would cut my food wrong, and he would fly off the handle.

One time I was riding my bike by the house, and he called me and I shouted back, “What?”  He screamed at me over that.  I guess I was being disrespectful because I didn’t get off my bike and run over to him.  If a remote was missing it was my fault or if I accidentally broke something, it was because I didn’t take care of my stuff.  He was a workaholic so he was always at work.  I was happy about that since I always felt like I had to walk on eggshells when he was home.

I always felt like my sister was his favorite.  One time an opportunity came when I could get her in trouble.  I was watching a tv show, and my sister came in and just changed it on me.  Dad was home, and I thought this is my chance to see my sister get in trouble.  So I went and got my dad.  He came in, and I told him what had happened so eager to get my revenge.  We both ended up getting in trouble, and that is when it sealed the deal for me that my sister was indeed his favorite.

I had a best friend in my elementary school years.  She didn’t go to the same school as me.  We were neighborhood besties.  She helped to make those years some of the best years of my life.  If it wasn’t for her, my life would have been so bleak with the social anxiety and OCD.  She was an actual bright spot in my life. But she eventually left me during those awkward teen years.  She was a quiet person, but when she started middle school, she started coming out of her shell, and became quite popular.  Back then I felt betrayed, but now when I look back how could I blame her?  I was different and quiet. She did try to incorporate her friends in my life, but I just couldn’t catch on.  That really was the best move for her, but it still made me feel unlovable.

There’s not much to say about high school.  I just got into a pattern of messing up budding friendships.  I would get optimistic going to a new school (when we moved to South Carolina), hoping to make new friends, but it just wouldn’t work out.  By then I had pretty low self esteem and continued to self sabotage any potential friendships.  One time, I decided to take a risk, I went up to a group of the popular girls, and acted like I was going to hang out with them for lunch, and they looked me up and down.  I instantly felt rejected.  I stood there for a little while longer and then took off.  I was incapable of ever having friends.  I was a psycho.  I was crazy.  I was a flake.  I was unlovable.  I hated myself.  My high school years were some of the most loneliest years of my life.

I did have one boyfriend during my high school years.  The relationship lasted like a two whole weeks.  I broke up with him because I caught him being immature once.  Now that I think back, I really believe he fell in love with me, but at that time I didn’t see it.  How could someone fall in love with me???  I guess I just thought we were just curious about dating.   Sometimes I kick myself when I think about that relationship.  I did like him.  If I would’ve stayed with him at least I wouldn’t have been so alone.

My senior year was the worst.  My parents were planning on moving my senior year, and I missed my sister, so we had the (not so great) idea to have me live with my sister and her husband for my Senior year.  (A lady at my church in South Carolina offered me to stay at her place when she heard we were moving – I should’ve took her up on her offer.  I really did like my high school in South Carolina even though at the time I would’ve told you no [I was in denial]).  So yeah I lived with my sister my Senior year of high school …….and it ended up being the best years of my life.  The End!  Ha, ha, ha…Psyche.  No actually it could’ve been a lot better.  New school, nice people, and I self sabotaged it again.  My OCD doesn’t do well with change, so my sister got to see my freak side, and I don’t think I was what her husband was expecting either.  Instead of getting a sweet popular party high school girl, he got a lazy, quiet, weirdo chick.  So it didn’t go too well and after my graduation party, I got shipped back to South Carolina to live with my parents again.  But on a high note….I came back with my driver’s license.

My OCD wasn’t as bad as when I was a child, but I still had my moments when I would ask my mom some compulsions.  So I pushed my mom away cause I didn’t want to torture her anymore, and she never heard from my OCD ever again.  At least she was now free.  Her and my sister would go on to form an inseparable bond while I was trying to prove my independence.   I always felt like the odd one out.  My OCD and anxiety ruined my relationships with them and with most of the people in my life.

Today, my OCD is under control, and my anxiety is going down.  Now since that isn’t taking up all of my time, I am dealing with the ramifications.  All those years wasted dealing with this mess, when I could have been living life.  Now I have to work on my self- loathing, shame, guilt, and regrets.

What’s wrong with me? Part III

CONFESSION – my OCD’s next move.  I had always been a confessor.  It was one of my many OCD compulsions, but I didn’t know how to explain my way out of this one. Because as Christians, aren’t we supposed to confess when we do something wrong and ask for forgiveness?  This was hard for me to sort out.  Is it OCD or spiritual?

Chris would warn me, but then I would think maybe his faith isn’t strong enough.  A psychologist warned me once, well maybe his faith isn’t strong enough.  Maybe I’m like Job. He couldn’t listen to any of his friends since their faith wasn’t strong enough.  They were steering him wrong.  Maybe my friends were steering me wrong and I needed to stick to my strong faith.

So it just got worse and worse.  I just talked bad about someone behind their back therefore I sinned against them, I need to confess this to them so I can be free.  I just stood up for myself and my anger showed.  In anger, I sinned and have to ask for forgiveness   I’d get home and realize the cashier gave me too much change back, I’ll  have to go back the next day and make it right.  I was really wrapped up in this.  If I couldn’t justify it in my brain, then I was stuck.

It was starting to affect my work and people were noticing.  I was becoming an emotional wreck.  This was the most outward my OCD had ever been.  I was sooo good at hiding it, but I couldn’t anymore.  I ended up taking two weeks off from work, and finally got on some much needed meds.  The doctors got the prescription right the first time.  They put me on Lexapro, and it improved my life so much in just two weeks.  Since the Lexapro was so expensive my doctor gave me a bunch of samples, but eventually they ran out and I couldn’t afford it.  It was like $106 a month.

I ended up finding a different job during that time. I wanted a fresh start especially since I knew my co-workers knew something was up with me, and I was embarrassed about that.   I was doing well with my new job, but shortly after, we ended up moving to North Carolina.  This was around the time, my Lexapro ran out.  So for both me and Chris anxiety was high.  North Carolina didn’t work out, so we came back to Michigan with our tails between our legs.  One blessing was my workplace loved me so much they wanted me to come back, but I wasn’t the same person as I was the first time I worked there.  My anxiety was really showing again.  My OCD was becoming less and less, but my anxiety was still high.  I was still a mess, and I really needed to be on my meds.

I took a step of faith and took a new job which was full-time and had benefits.  This job would help support Chris in school and get us out of Chris’ dad’s house where we were living at the time.  I knew I couldn’t mess up this job because if I did we would end up back in Chris’ dads house.  There was a lot at stake here.  And of course because of that my anxiety soared.  My OCD was almost non-existent, but now it was time to learn how to deal with my anxiety.  I ended up going to a counselor named Nancy  who ended up being my most favorite counselor of all time.  I had a lot of breakthroughs with her.

The thing I loved about Nancy is that she was a Christian, but she was logical in her faith.  I didn’t feel she was judging me, but truly wanted to help.  She helped me get to the root of my problem rather than tell me it was because I didn’t tithe that week or that God was convicting me.  She realized I had a non spiritual problem.  As we got to know each other, she told me I reminded her a lot of her daughter cause she was a tender soul like me.  I had a lot of breakthroughs with her, and I was becoming more and more in control of my anxiety.

I started to thrive a little better in my new job, and slowly but surely came out of my shell.  They also came out with a generic for Lexapro so I was able to go onto that for awhile, and it was affordable especially now that I had insurance.

I had to stop seeing Nancy, since I ended up moving.  I was really hoping for a long-term relationship with a therapist, so I could fine tune some things, but as usual something comes up and I have to stop.

On a side note, I do believe that if you have severe anxiety problems and/or OCD like I did, that the best course of action is therapy and drugs.  I don’t think it is good to just be on drugs and not be getting any help.  I know that can be hard to do since it is so expensive, but you need to learn how to deal with your anxiety.  Therapy is the best help since you can learn how to deal with it.  Now Nancy thought since I had anxiety so early on in life that I may have a natural imbalance that can only be corrected with drugs.  Because of that, I may be on anxiety meds for the rest of my life.  But I do plan on getting off them to see how I do eventually.

As I look back I realize I have come a long way.  This is the best I have ever felt…..even though I just turned 40 (yuck).  I am loving the new me, and I am not hating myself so much anymore.  I have a lot of regrets, shame, and self-loathing I am working through.  (I know I need to go back to therapy.)  But I am getting there.  I have made it this far.  There is no way I am turning back now.

What’s Wrong with Me? Part II

In my teen years, for my situation, I felt the most normal I had ever been.  I didn’t have very many friends which probably helped me to hide it.  My OCD/anxiety was still pretty bad, but I just hid it better.  I definitely had my bad moments, but I did ask my mom questions less and less.  It wasn’t until my 20’s that I realized that I would never be free from OCD and that I needed help.

By my 20’s, I had actually heard of OCD, but I didn’t believe I had it.  Not all my symptoms matched up according to my definition of OCD.  At this time, I was a charismatic Christian as well, which fed my OCD.  I believed I had a Spiritual disorder rather than a Psychological disorder.  Like I mentioned earlier, it was easier for my OCD to manifest in this realm.   I thought I was being a better Christian when all the while I was just feeding my OCD.  I stopped celebrating Halloween cause I thought this was one of the reasons I had “spiritual issues”.   I had allowed the devil to have a foothold in my life because I celebrated Halloween.   It went on and on.  If I got baptism of the Holy Spirit or prayed non-stop or in faith said I was healed, then I will be free of this curse on my thoughts.  But nothing made it better.  I wasn’t a strong enough Christian to be free.

By then, I met my husband.  I did let him know about my “thoughts”.  I felt he should know since we were talking marriage.  I didn’t want him to be married to a crazy person.  He told me maybe I should talk to our pastor which I did, and he confirmed what I already thought, it was a spiritual matter.  An attack from Satan since I had such a moral conscience.

So for years, I believed this all to be true.  It was a spiritual matter not a psychological matter.  I claimed I was healed therefore I was.  I told my family I was healed from my “thoughts” since I had claimed I was healed through the blood of Jesus Christ.  Even though I really wasn’t, but I believed it anyways hoping to be free.  Then it went from bad to worse, and I had to face reality.  The truly dark days were here.

The verse in the Bible about blasphemy of the Holy Spirit always bothered me and worked up my OCD a lot.  Reading the Bible was torturous for me already, cause I would usually have to reread verses over and over again until my thoughts were pure and stopped dishonoring God or something like that.  Well one day a “blasphemous thought” entered my mind while I read that verse, and I just knew I was a goner.  I was going to hell, and there was nothing I could do about it.  My life was actually going really well, and I was making friends and having fun.  Then it all ended cause then a dark cloud enveloped over me and I withdrew and I cried all the time.  My OCD always seemed to know when to ruin my life.  I could never be happy for long.  My husband now was receiving the brunt of it just like my mom so many years ago. After a couple years of going through this, I told my husband I needed help.  Not spiritual help, but psychological help.

So I was sent to an Indian student psychology intern attending CMU named Lakshmi.  Her nickname was Luck.  It may be hard to believe, but she was shorter than me.  I think she was like 4′ 9″.  I was so fearful because of my last experience with a Psychiatrist.  And this may be judgmental of me, but he was Indian, too, just like Luck.  So that didn’t help her chances with me.  It ended up, though, that Luck helped me out a lot.  We didn’t have the same belief, I was Christian and she was Hindu, but she still was able to help.  It was funny cause after I had already confided some things to her she asked me if I wanted someone of the same faith.  I said no because I didn’t want to have to start over.  I did not want multiple people to know about my issues.  I’m glad I did stick with her cause she really helped me with my healing process.  It meant the world to me.  And she helped me to see that I indeed had OCD.

I never did get on any prescription drugs.  I didn’t have insurance and couldn’t afford it.  Also, by the time I was nearing the end of my sessions with Luck, I became pregnant with Isaiah.  Her semester at CMU was ending and I was progressing well so sessions had ended.  I really did want to see if I could manage it myself without medication, but later I found out I could not.

I knew I didn’t blaspheme the Holy Spirit now, but I still was experiencing problems with my Spiritual OCD.  I knew the off the wall stuff wasn’t true, but there was stuff I still had a hard time differentiating between.  When you are right in the middle of it, it is hard to understand what is the OCD and what is your obligation as a Christian.  I kept hearing sermons about don’t do this and don’t do that, but what if you do those things then how do you get out.  They never gave an answer to that in the pulpit.  My perfectionism was really starting to take a hold over me.

See I found out through Luck that OCD is either guilt based or perfectionist based.  I had the perfectionist based kind.  After my diagnosis, I started to say my mom had anxiety and my dad was a perfectionist, the perfect mix for an OCD child.

So here is an example of how I had a hard time differentiating.  Let’s say I answered the phone, and the person I was talking to was looking for Chris, and Chris didn’t want to be disturbed, and so I automatically say, “Oh, he’s not here right now.”  Then I would hang up, and then all this anxiety would be rushing through me.  I just lied.  OMG!!!  Now I need to go find that person, confess that I lied, and ask for their forgiveness cause if I don’t wouldn’t I still be in sin, and then because I am in sin then I will go to hell.  And I won’t be free until I find that person and CONFESS.  Confession ended up being the next compulsion I needed to conquer, and I couldn’t do it without the help of prescription drugs.

What’s Wrong With Me? Part I

This is going to be a hard blog for me to write.  I am actually going to be opening myself up, allowing myself to be vulnerable.  I’m usually building walls not opening myself up.  Why am I doing this?  I guess it would be freeing.  Maybe it will explain to my loved ones why I am the way I am, and they’ll get a better understanding of who I am.  Maybe I can help others going through the same situation.  But I think the main reason I am doing this is I have noticed when I open myself up to people and am honest about who I am, they are more accepting of me and can be themselves around me.  I have noticed when I am closed up, I can’t make connections with people as well.  I have always been walled up and when I finally in 2015 made a resolution to come out of my shell, I wished I would of done it sooner.  It was very refreshing and people weren’t as scary as I had thought they would be.  Again, I was making a big deal out of nothing.

So here is my big secret.  Here is the thing I have been hiding from people for my whole life.  I have OCD.  There I said it.  It feels weird to get that out there.  It seems kinda foreign, too, since I was in denial about it for the longest time.  I have OCD!  Actually, right now it is pretty much in remission.  I live a pretty normal life with a few problems from anxiety.  But for a long time in my life, OCD had a terrible hold on me.  I had moderate to severe OCD, and it was a nightmare.  If I could go back in time to fix it, somehow, I would.

I was always an anxious person from childhood.  Anxiety ran in my mom’s family.  I guess my Great Grandma Mehl had it pretty bad.  One of my first memories of anxiety was bugs in the first of Spring.  I hated to go outside since bugs gave me great anxiety.  I hated how they would swarm or try to land on you.  I would always end up running back inside.  Then there was my much more obvious bout with anxiety – my social anxiety.  Other than my family, I barely talked to anyone.  I really don’t know how this came about if it was just natural or because of some incident that happened.  I wish I knew.

But still at this time in my young life, I was just experiencing anxiety.  I didn’t start experiencing OCD until I believe 4th grade.  We were standing in line to get ready to get our school photos taken.  The girl next to me had a brush or a comb.  And she asked me if I wanted to borrow it to fix my hair for pictures.  I freaked out inside.  I can’t borrow her hairbrush cause I was told if you borrow someone’s hair brush it could have lice.  I believe this is what triggered my obsessive behavior.

Around the same time, all over the news, there was someone who was poisoning Tylenol bottles.  This also brought me me much anxiety.  This was the first time I started doing my compulsions.  I started asking my mom if things were poisionous?  For example, there would be a dented can on a shelf at the grocery store.  I would go to grab it for my mom and seeing the dent asking, “Mom is this poisionous?”

Then finally it all came together.  Soon asking once wasn’t good enough.  My compulsions started to grow.  I remember we were on our way home from somewhere and I asked my mom a question formed from my obsession.  Then all of a sudden the first answer wasn’t good enough.  I felt I had to ask again, and then again, and then again and again. I kept asking until the answer felt right.  I guess then it was full blown.

I am a Christian so my OCD went more spiritual probably since that was a realm that I felt I had no control over.  How could I stop Satan if he wanted to possess me?  Maybe if I have the wrong thought I could make someone else possessed, or maybe I could accidentally sell my own soul to the devil or someone would die.  And those were just the tip of the iceberg.  I had a prayer that I prayed compulsively when these thoughts went through my head.  It went something like this, “Lord forgive me of my sins, and please don’t let anything bad happen to anyone because of my thoughts.”  My favorite compulsive number was 4.  I tried to end my compulsions on 4 if I could.  If not then it pretty much went in multiples of 4.  I could never end my compulsion on a 6 due to the number 666.  I also compulsively washed my hands and would compulsively flick light switches.  I would also compulsively stare at spots until I got release when my compulsion felt right and I could stop.  I went through this extreme mental torture non-stop till around my teen years.

My mom finally took me to a Psychiatrist for help in 6th grade.  I did everything I could to hide my OCD from the world.  I knew if people found out they would think I was even more strange than I already was, that I was crazy.  I really believed that there was no one else like me.  So I barely spoke to the Psychiatrist.  I was so scared.  He put me on some meds (which I swore were placebos) then when I went back and still wouldn’t talk.  He called me immature and told my mom I needed to see someone else.  I couldn’t stand him.  I didn’t think he was friendly at all.  There was a plant there called a Crown of Thorns, and my mom loved the plant.  She asked the receptionist (who was super nice) if she could have a cutting so she could grow the plant.  I know my mom didn’t intend this, but everytime I saw that plant it made me think of that experience.

The Psychiatrist referred some therapists for me, but we never went back to one.  At that time I didn’t want to go to a therapist so I did everything in my own power to make it better, and it actually worked kinda.  Instead of projecting it outwardly, I projected more inwardly.   I just hid it better.  I always hid it from school and friends, but it probably made it easier that I had social anxiety and didn’t talk to anyone at school.  I was always scared to get in trouble in school so I think that helped fuel my social anxiety.

For my teen years, for my situation, I felt the most normal I had ever been.  I didn’t have very many friends which probably helped me to hide it.  My OCD/anxiety was still pretty bad, but I just hid it better.  I definitely had my bad moments, but I did ask my mom questions less and less, and I didn’t pray my little prayer as often.  It wasn’t until my 20’s that I realized that I would never be free from OCD and that I needed help.