Negative Nancy

Gus being a moper.

For those who know me, you would probably identify me as a very positive person.  I'm extraverted, enthusiastic, and generally upbeat. If you come to me with a problem, I am more than happy to reassure you that everything is going to be okay.

You are great.  Whatever happened may be difficult, but you have the strength to get through it.  Nothing catastrophic is going to happen.  Your worries are overblown! Don't be silly.

But for some reason, I can't give myself the same positive outlook that I so easily give to my family, friends, acquaintances... hell, even strangers.

The tragedy is, if the situation involves me, then I always jump to the worst, most negative conclusions possible and assume that they are probably right.  It's like pessimism, but only self-directed, and with more enthusiasm!  Like, I picture a pessimist saying, "The worst outcome is going to happen. Oh well."  Instead I'm like, " THE WORST OUTCOME IS GOING TO HAPPEN.  PANIC MODE."

Take for instance this past weekend: I was finishing the last sessions of an "ACT Bootcamp" for high schoolers.  It was basically a two-day weekend review of what to expect on the college entrance exam and strategies to help them learn how to attack it, study effectively, and figure out what scores to aim for. 

In case you haven't been around high schoolers in a while, please let me remind you that they are terrifying.  Trying to reach them and gain their respect is hard for anyone, and taking up their weekend with information many of them don't process as relevant is a hard angle to work.

That being said, at the end of the class, I handed out surveys.  I want to learn what works and what doesn't.  I want to see if what I did was actually helpful.

Most of the surveys came back positive, saying thanks and identifying that the class helped them feel better prepared.  Some actually didn't identify a part of the class that they considered to be "least helpful," and most of the criticism was constructive. 

But there were a few that were all negative.  For example, a student who circled "No" that he did not feel better prepared after the class, said the most helpful part of this class was "the book,"  the least helpful part was "the lectures" and in other comments said "None".  Another student who circled "No" that he did not feel better prepared after the class actually wrote a number of lewd comments, one of the tamer of which was "I didn't find it helpful eccept (sic) for dat ASS!"

After reading over the surveys, I immediately fixated on the negative ones. What if everyone felt like this was a waste of their time and money?  Had I done a bad job?  Was it my fault that certain kids were loud, disinterested, and distracting?  Could I have been more engaging?  Were my strategies useless? Was I just a joke to these kids?  What if I wasn't invited back next year?  

Negative self-talk is a huge problem with anxiety and OCD, and I am the queen of it.  It's no surprise that seeing some negative survey results caused me to catastrophize.  I give other people the benefit of the doubt and see their problems with a level-head, but as soon as I am faced with an issue myself I can no longer hear that reasonable voice that says, "It's going to be okay."

Months and months ago, perhaps even years ago, my therapist gave me a list of questions to challenge these kinds of thoughts, but I still always seem to go down the route of doom and gloom.  Anything negative sent my way is immediately put under a microscope, and then amplified until it drowns out the positive.

Still, I know I have to keep challenging.  I guess it is funny to think about the opposite scenario:  What if I had gotten mostly negative reviews from the surveys, and then picked out the few positive ones and concluded that I was the best educator alive?  It's easy to see how out of touch with reality that would be.  

Framing it the opposite way helps show me how ridiculous I'm being.  But I'd be lying if I said that is where my mind goes first.  The thing is, you have to learn not to always follow your mind down the rabbit hole.  Try to take things out of the perspective of anxiety and see them another way.  You can triumph over your inner-"Negative Nancy".

Engaged!

I haven't updated in awhile, but that's because things have been very hectic over here.  The good kind of hectic, the ultimate triumph: On August 10th, my boyfriend asked me to marry him.

Dating is rough.  There’s a delicate balance as you get to know someone new… What stories can I reveal on a first date? When is it appropriate to share what memories? Will this person accept me when I reveal who I really am? 

Everyone struggles with these questions, but adding OCD into the mix can take this struggle to the next level. 

The intrusive thoughts that come with OCD are excruciatingly painful to live with and can be even harder to share, especially with a romantic partner. Whether it is the worry that you are a rapist, a murderer, a child molester, a creep, or a fraud… The person with OCD often has difficulty understanding that these thoughts are OCD related and have no basis in reality, so it can seem virtually impossible to communicate that to someone else.  When you want a man to see you as desirable and lovable, the last thing you picture saying while looking into his dreamy bedroom eyes is, “I used to have to avoid knives because I thought if I got too close I was going to stab myself.”

I remember the first time I shared my worst OCD fears with a boyfriend: I was 18 and he was 23. I told him because I felt like he had a right to know how messed up I was.  I laid it out, prepared for him to be disgusted and never look at me the same way again.  Prepared for him to leave.  At the time, I didn’t even want to live with myself, so why would any man ever want to be with me? 

What happened was the opposite of what I expected.  He listened and made a real effort to understand.  He even shared some of his scariest thoughts with me.  Intrusive thoughts may not plague everybody the same way, but they occasionally happen to almost everyone.  My boyfriend didn’t have OCD, but he didn’t have to in order to be empathetic and accepting.  He really loved me and that was enough.

That was 10 years ago.  Since then, I have gone on dates with many different men and even developed close enough love with two of them to share everything.  

Like most things in relationships, it ultimately comes down to trust. Are there men who wouldn’t have understood or even tried?  Absolutely.  Are there men who would’ve made me feel like a freak?  I’m sure.  But what I realized after that first experience was that there are people out there who can understand and who will love me, the real me, OCD and all.

My fiancé's reaction was to do research.  He asked me questions.  He shared where he could relate and admitted where he couldn’t.  He's supportive, loving and understanding of the struggles that I face and accepts them without judgement.

What we have is open and honest and real.  We are free, and we are stronger because of it.  What I would recommend to anyone with OCD is to hold out for the same.  

You're worth it, and it's worth waiting for.