OCD and Puppy Parenthood

My perfect Luke & Lily.

On November 4th, my husband and I adopted two adorable puppies from PAWS (Public Animal Welfare Society).  Born in August, Luke and Lily are a mix of Shiba Inu, Pug, and Pomeranian.  They are a brother and sister from the same litter, and they are so cute it hurts.

What I've learned in a little over a month?  Puppy parenting is hard for anyone. Specifically though, puppy parenting is an OCD Nightmare.  Examples:

• My house is now a pee house.  They pee and poop where they please while learning to go outside.  
• I worry that I'm not doing right by them. What if I'm not being a good enough mommy?  I feel guilt and hate myself for things like sleeping in.
• I double checked the lock (I'm not even a lock checker usually) when I left the house because I know my babies are in the house.
• I feel guilt when I get angry or upset or frustrated at them.  I judge and worry about any thoughts I have about the puppies that I label as "bad."
• I feel guilt or worry if I tugged at their leashes too hard or picked them up and hurt them. 
• I won't let them have stick treats in their cage when we leave because I'm worried they'll choke.  Their safety is now a big concern.

Even given all of these things, I wouldn't trade my puppies for the world.  OCD attacks what you care about, but you can't let it take away what you love most.  Avoiding having puppies would only let the OCD win and let the fears maintain their power.  Having these puppies may challenge me every day, but I know that the exposure is making me stronger.  I know that each day I fight through I am better off than the day before.  

I hope other people struggling with the same types of fears are also able to work through and grow rather than live a life without dogs.  Dogs are so pure and kind - They remind us of what is really important: family, food, and naptime.

A world without dogs, even without anxiety, would not be a happy world for me.  Luke and Lily are my triumph, and I will work to get through my anxieties so I can be there for them.  Being their mom is one of the greatest privileges of my life.  I know it will make me a better person.

Plus, naps with puppies are even better than naps alone. 

Cracked Hands

Not a 90-year-old's hands. Mine.

Generalizations exist because they are true in some cases: Take the caricature of the OCD-hand-washer.

Not everyone with OCD is afraid of germs or contamination and washes their hands too much... but some of us do.  Unfortunately, lately I myself have fallen into the hand washing trap more.


This is especially annoying because one of my early symptoms of OCD was excessive hand washing.  I still remember this time I was watching SpongeBob and kept having to get up and wash my hands because I touched the floor.  It happened enough during one episode that it was an "aha moment" making me realize I had a problem.

Hand washing issues can take different forms.  Even after I stopped washing my hands too often, I struggled more with washing them too long when I got started.  How much soap is enough?  How long is enough?  With my OCD, if I go by what feels "right," I am often over-washing.

I have actually been doing relatively well for a long time with it, but now living in a new house with more cleaning responsibilities has somewhat reignited my hand washing and excessive cleaning proclivities.

When I clean dishes, I always want to wash my hands before and after...  Having new puppies means more messes and more hand washing...  I also probably wash my hands too often during the process of cooking because I worry about contamination (My mom's fear of raw chicken has become well instilled in me after many years).

My issues make me dread situations where I know I will have to wash my hands.  I'm very fortunate that I am still pretty under control, but I hate having to worry about how much soap it will take or how long it will take to feel clean.  Notice the choice of words: it is not about being clean as much as the feeling of being clean.  It becomes about cleaning until you know you won't feel anxious about it.

With the washing and the colder weather coming in, my hands look horrifying.  They hurt and I hate looking at them, but they are also an important reminder that my work is not finished.  Sometimes the OCD tendencies you feel are behind you crawl back.  In some ways this is a tragedy, but getting down on yourself for slipping up doesn't help.

Wherever you find yourself, you just need to keep moving forward.  The battles you fought before can be won again.  

Oh, and moisturizer can help too!

OCD and Processing Sexual Assault

It's OCD Awareness week 2018, and I wanted to write a post that would help bring to light a lesser-known impact of OCD.  

Given the recent discussions of sexual assault and violence against women, I thought it would make sense to share my small story and discuss how OCD can impact these already difficult experiences.  Whatever your political affiliation, I think we can all agree that any instance of sexual assault is a tragedy.

When I was in high school, I slept over at a friend's house one night- let's call her Tiffany.  That morning, I woke up to the feeling of someone's hand on my chest.

Groggy, only half-awake and disoriented from sleep, I opened my eyes to see Tiffany's brother standing over me.  He retracted his hand from under my shirt and backed away.  I watched confused and didn't scream or move...  I just fell back asleep.

When fully woke up later, the whole situation seemed so bizarre that I thought maybe it was a dream... but it felt so REAL.  

That is when the OCD part of me started to creep in with self-doubt.  My OCD started making me question the memory.  Did I REALLY feel something?  Was I SURE?  Wouldn't someone in that situation scream or grab the person's arm or shout? Was it possible it was just a particularly vivid dream?  

OCD craves definitive proof, and I had none.  

I told nobody - not even my mother, who I told everything.  I was not 100% positive.  My OCD had always given me an irrational, magnified fear of lying, and I didn't KNOW what the truth was.  

I also didn't want to lose Tiffany as a friend because she was really important to me.  I didn't want my mom to start a war.  I didn't want to be called a liar, and I really didn't want to be one: even today, I consider false accusations particularly heinous. 

I only knew two things for sure: I wasn't physically hurt and I wasn't traumatized. 

I came to a decision to just let it go.  Since I couldn't prove it happened, I figured I would be better off assuming it didn't.  I didn't treat Tiffany any differently afterward, and I carried on as if it was a dream.

I never even gave it that much thought until years later when he was arrested for a crime that validated my experience.  The day I learned was this weird relief.  I finally told my mom about what had happened. It made sense now, and I felt a very real sense of vindication.

But then the OCD guilt started to creep in.  What if I should have said something earlier?  Had something similar happened to any other girls? Had something worse happened to any of them? Had he gotten to anyone else because I didn't speak up?  

Please know that I do not assert dramatic victimhood: I consider myself very lucky that this incident was a relatively minor thing, and I do not feel like my experience is in the same category as most sexual assault cases.  Still, it has given me some perspective on how weird it is to process these kinds of incidents.  

Reading accounts from survivors of much more intense violations, I find that even people without anxiety disorders experience similar feelings to the ones my OCD amplified, from self-doubt to guilt.  I have also seen how weird it is to look back on it now.  All I have are the faintest glimpses of memory - mainly the sense of confusion and the strange unexpected feeling of someone's hand.  

I don't remember what Tiffany and I did that night or if anyone else was there.  I don't remember what I was wearing. I don't even remember exactly how old I was.  

Over a decade later, none of these details seem to matter.  I am fortunate that it was such a relatively insignificant moment in an otherwise extremely fortunate childhood.  

That being said, I know one question will always haunt me, "Why didn't you scream?"

The Midas Touch

My hubby recently had to get an oil change and it reminded me of this amazing situation that occurred right before our wedding. Amid all the wedding planning chaos, I didn't get to write about it then, but it is definitely worth sharing.

Wedding planning is stressful, and when you are trying to process the gravity of the step you're about to take, balance the emotions associated it, work three different jobs with three different schedules, and go about necessary errands... it isn't always easy to stay calm, cool and collected.

Healing cars and hearts.

Different needs tend to collide at once, and I found myself with a car that needed a check-up and very little time to do it.  After much stressing over scheduling, by some miracle I found a time to setup to check in at our local Midas.

And then I learned that I wasn't going to be able to make the appointment.

This was the moment I cracked.  Between stress and anxiety and a jam packed schedule, I had reached my overwhelm limit and started crying: drunk-sorority-girl-at-a-frat-party-who-just-got-dumped level crying.

So, naturally, I decided it was fine in this state to call and cancel my appointment with Midas.

I picked up my cell phone and dialed, letting the man at the end of the line know that I was extremely sorry, but I couldn't bring in my car today because something had come up.  It is unclear how much of this message really got across clearly because crying Laura is an incomprehensible hot mess.

I will never forget the way he reacted.

He let me know that it was no problem.  Then, with genuine concern in his voice, he asked me if everything was okay.  He said that I sounded really upset and if I needed to talk, I could feel free to stop by Midas and he would be happy to talk about whatever it was.

I reassured him that I would be fine, and as I hung up I already felt somewhat better from finding this unlikely ally.  

As women, we are generally taught that other women will be our strongest emotional support.  Whether we like it or not, in America women are raised to express emotions and empathy while we rear men for independence.   As a culture, men are taught to hold back their feelings: "Boys don't cry."  With this mindset, it is common to see men who have no idea how to react to a woman in tears and are very off-put by intense emotional displays. 

But, in that moment, here was this man...and this wasn't even just an average man.  This was a man's man: the kind who works on cars for a living.  And yet, here he was, recognizing suffering in a stranger and trying to offer some sort of comfort, not wanting to let me off of the phone until he felt sure that I was okay.

It was unexpected in the most refreshing way to see someone who was that traditionally masculine who still had developed emotional sensitivity.  It would be great if our culture moved more in this direction, not only for the sake of supporting women but also for the mental health of our men, who should feel free to explore their emotions and communicate about feelings without judgement or ridicule.

When I told my fiancé (now husband) the story, we both had to laugh that I had become so hysterical that even the man at Midas was like, "Someone needs to help this person."  However, I hope that someday we live in a world where this is the norm, where both men and women can recognize strangers in crisis and try to do their little bit to help.  A world where mental health stigma has been replaced with understanding and empathy.  That would certainly be a triumph.

Meanwhile, I will remain a customer of Midas for life.  

Death Tacos

I'm not much of a cook.

My chef when I'm away from home!

I just never really needed to be before.  But, now that I'm a married lady, I decided it was high time to learn.

The big problem is that at the moment I work long hours (like 9:30 am to 7:00 pm) and sometimes come home pretty late.  Enter the magic of the slow cooker.  I can prepare in the morning and it is ready to go when I get home.  Perfect.

Well, it should have been anyway.  But last week on Thursday morning while I was trying to put together a recipe for beef tacos, I realized we didn't have a can opener for the Roma tomatoes.  

I had to open the can with a juice can opener, stabbing around the edges.  I was horrified that there might be basically pieces of shrapnel metal in this beef.  What if somehow a piece fell in and then Nate's throat got sliced open?

I then told my mom about the recipe and she (the queen of all things OCD kitchen related) asked if I had put enough water in the slow cooker.

I hadn't put any water in.  I even poured the water out of the tomatoes can.  The recipe didn't ask for water.

My mom now informed me while I was on the way to work that I may burn the house down.

Great.  So now I have to worry about the metal and a fire.

At this point, mom put the icing on the OCD cake and asked, "Did you check the date on the beef?"

Of course, I hadn't.  My OCD has not developed well in the kitchen arena, mainly because I haven't been in the kitchen that much.  Now I was on alert though.  These tacos risked internal bleeding, fire, and food poisoning.

Should we even eat them?

Mom, too horrified to hold back and without being asked, actually came to my house and put water in the slow cooker.  So, when I arrived home that night, our house was very much not on fire.  At this point, I had to make a choice about the other risks.  

Do we eat the tacos or not?

I warned Nate about the metal, but (in what I consider a triumph) we decided to go forward with the meal.  

And you know what?  Those tacos were so good, we each had three.

I am happy to report that we have both survived the incident and I feel a step closer to tackling OCD in the kitchen.  Small victories are still worth celebrating.

Anxiety and Sleep Paralysis

When bedtime gets real.

The other day I was in the family room on our big comfy blue chair watching TV with my father and sister during a lazy afternoon when I comfortably dozed off. 

After some time, I dazedly awoke and could hear the two of them talking.  I had curled up in a weird way and was having a little trouble breathing, so I decided I needed to shift my position.

But I couldn't do it... I couldn't move at all.  

My brain was telling my body to move, repeatedly, but there was no response.  My body just laid there. I wanted to scream for help.... wiggle my fingers at least so maybe someone would see I was in distress... but I could do nothing. 

I had been here before.  This was good old sleep paralysis.  

For those who don't have total jerk bodies, this is a fancy term for a weird situation when your brain is awake while your body is sleeping.  It's a real medical thing.

It can happen to anyone.  A few years ago it started happening to me relatively often.  When I asked the doctor about this strange sleep problem, I was told there wasn't really anything I could do when it happens and to just try to relax until it passes.

HA!  Relax?!  Look, even when you know what sleep paralysis is, any time it strikes you wonder if this will be the time you don't escape.  How are you supposed to relax when you feel trapped inside your body?  

I've tried to learn more about it, especially since this recent episode which hit after months if not years of peace.  I thought it had gone away, but now it has happened twice within a few weeks.  

So I watched The Nightmare on Netflix, a documentary about sleep paralysis that I quickly learned only focuses on horror and myth without getting into the scientific aspects of it.  Most of their scenes and stories are based on the fact that many people all over the world who experience sleep paralysis also describe seeing a shadowy intruder while they cannot move.  

My friend Megan says she has seen and even physically felt the shadow guy, but I have not.  I have had many instances of sleep paralysis and he has never visited me... I always just feel like I'm struggling to breathe and worry I might suffocate before I can move.  

With The Nightmare leaving me clueless, I have done my fair share of googling, and I was not surprised to learn that sleep paralysis is considered tied to my friend Anxiety (To learn more, you can check out this interesting January article from The Washington Post.)

How typical of Anxiety.  Seriously.  Anxiety loves to put people on edge and plays mind games all the time.  It can steal sleep or haunt your nightmares.  Anxiety loves to get clever: Why not take people who are already constant worry machines and make them think they just woke up paralyzed?

Anxiety is the Hannibal Lecter of mental illnesses - clever, sadistic and ruthless.

To be clear, sleep paralysis isn't just tied to anxiety... For example, I never take Nyquil anymore for colds because I more consistently get sleep paralysis if I've had it.  Recently I also discovered that trying to take a nap after two drinks contributed to an episode.  

But sleep paralysis has come for me plenty of times without any medicine or alcohol to help it along, and in these cases I'm sure it's just Anxiety up to its high jinks again.  For the episodes that happen without any substances... the ones based simply on living in my anxious mind... I guess I'll just have to consider them opportunities to practice relaxation under extreme circumstances. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll even get to meet the famous shadow guy.

"So, what's your OCD thing?"

We're not just switch flippers.

You tell someone that you have OCD, and often that person's response is, "Oh, so what do you OCD about?" 

Please stop casually asking this question.

Don't feel bad if you have done it before... it seriously happens all the time.  I get it actually, and it's kind of sweet in a way.

Based on a basic understanding of OCD, you think I'm a little quirky.  Expecting that my answer will be related to hand washing or checking the toaster three times, why not ask? 

What you don't realize is that based on the reality of OCD what you have really just asked me is, "What are your biggest and most shameful worries and fears and how are you irrationally coping with them?"

Compulsions like hand-washing are performed in response to obsessions - major worries and fears that incessantly taunt their victims.  Some people with OCD do not even have observable compulsions and are mainly plagued by the obsessive thought aspect.  These issues do not make for light, casual conversation.

The "What's your OCD thing?" question reveals how little the average person knows about what OCD really is.  To be fair to the average person, even doctors don't always know.  Yesterday at my annual physical when I mentioned OCD to my new doctor she asked a similar question.  This is an educated woman with a degree in medicine, and her question showed me how surface-level psych training must be for family doctors. 

It's a tragedy that there is so little general knowledge on OCD, but there are still ways to be supportive to someone who reveals this part of their mental health history to you.  Here are four quick tips:

1.  If a coworker or acquaintance mentions that his OCD is bothering him, try asking how you can support him. 

2.  If a good friend tells you that she has OCD in private, admit that you do not know much about it but that you are there to listen to whatever she wants to share.  Try to let her control the conversation and what she reveals.

3.  In serious discussions of mental health with anyone, try to respond intentionally without casually brushing it off, making assumptions or cracking jokes.

4. Remember that it is okay to realize that you are in over your head.  Even therapists aren't experts on every mental health problem!  If a friend reveals something to you that you think may be a sign that this person is losing control and could be in danger or dangerous, admit that you are not an expert and try to get help from someone who is!

A Letter on How Not to Break Up With Someone With Anxiety

To Whom it May Concern:

Here's my Dear John letter...

Dating and relationships are hard.  When one of the partners has a mental illness, it can complicate things even further.

Just because the person you're seeing has anxiety does not mean that you have to stay with that partner for the rest of your life.  However, it does mean that there are certain moves you should absolutely avoid during the breakup process.  

Here are my top four tips of what NOT to do when breaking things off with a person who has anxiety.  (Please note that these apply whether you are dating men or women, but just so I can stay grammatically correct without repeating "him or her," I'm just going to refer to the anxious person as her.  I am a lady after all!)

1. Do not ghost the person.  Ghosting is when you just stop replying to someone with no explanation rather than break things off.  To avoid an uncomfortable discussion, you just go AWOL.  This is cruel and selfish to do to anyone, but it is especially horrible to do to an anxious person.  One of the worst parts of having anxiety is the worrying about uncertain outcomes.  It may seem silly, but the pain and discomfort of worrying can be ten times worse than just knowing the worst is true!  Don't let her sit there restlessly waiting for a text, holding on to smaller and smaller slivers of hope as the time passes...Just let her down gently.  It's not that she wouldn't ultimately connect the dots, it's that you are prolonging the suffering.

2. Do not tell the person it is because of the anxiety. I am sure it took a lot for this person to share this aspect of life you.  If you bring it up in the breakup, it means you either completely lack sympathy or have not even taken the time to consider the implications.  You literally just gave someone who you already feel is too anxious one more thing to be anxious about.  Stop and think!  When you say this you are also basically admitting to breaking up with someone for an illness, so you are making yourself sound terrible.

3. Do not postpone the breakup while insisting everything is fine.  More likely than not, your partner knows that your feelings have changed and can sense that something is different.  She likely struggles with differentiating between her own intuition and her anxiety, and she may be particularly sensitive to changes in behavior as she is prone to considering worst case scenarios.  This lady often suspects the worst when it isn't there, so don't let her feel "crazy" for a time when she's actually right.

4. Do not tell everyone your ex was "nuts" or "crazy".  Most mental health struggles are very personal and likely did not really harm you in any major way, so there is no need to try and trash her name when she is just trying her best to work through her own stuff.  She shared personal details with you that should neither be ridiculed or gossiped about.  Now, if she tried to burn down your house or get you fired from your job... I'm not going to blame you for needing to talk and handle that.  However, even in these rare, severe cases, it is better to phrase the issues with empathy, recognizing that she was unstable and really needed help, rather than summing her up as a "lunatic."  

The breakup part of dating is often very painful, and remembering to treat other people with respect in the process is critical.  It is actually kind to follow these four tips even when your partner doesn't have anxiety.  Whatever that person's struggle, while you are breaking a heart try your best not to pour salt in the wound.  Avoid carelessness and choose compassion.

Sincerely,

Laura

Poetry & Mental Health

As an English major, I always enjoyed poetry - the way wordplay and rhythm can come together to make you smile, hurt, laugh and cry. Poetry often focuses on emotion, giving it a natural connection to mental health. Poems are such a unique way to connect with the experiences of the poet, and they can articulate feelings you may have trouble expressing yourself.  It can also be cathartic for the authors, as writing poetry becomes a type of therapy. (For more information on the therapeutic benefits of writing, check out this article from the American Psychological Association.)  

Recently, I came across two poetry books by Cleveland authors that delve into the gamut of human emotions: Angeline Walsh's Bad Psychiatry: and Other Aptly Themed Poems and Eric Dettelbach's Lyrics for Lucid Dreamers.  As a disclaimer, I am not being paid by either author to discuss these books.

Walsh is a young woman who contacted me after finding my OCD blog on Facebook.  Many of her poems touch on the pain of mental illness, but she also has poems that focus on hope and happiness.  Written over years (she told me that one of my favorite pieces, "Weathering it All," was written when she was just seventeen), her poems reflect the ups and downs of life.  While some were clearly written from a dark place, others reflect a joy of spirit.  

Dettelbach's book is not directly focused on mental health, but like Walsh's touches on the emotional highs and lows that come with moving through life.  He is actually a coworker of mine, and I helped him type up years of notes to put together his book.  It was interesting to see the different tones from poem to poem, again ranging from despair to delight.  His focus on relationships - from romantic encounters to the experience of adopting a dog - highlighted just how much our connections with others can impact how we feel and who we become.

Though these authors lead very different lives (different genders, ages, marital statuses), they share so much.  It's easy when we are going through a tough time or having a mental health issue to feel so alone.  I'm so glad there are writers out there putting their feelings into words and sharing these experiences that show how alike we all are.  We see their pain, but we also see their perseverance and growth.

Publishing a book - especially a collection of personal poems - takes guts. Letting yourself be vulnerable isn't easy, and I applaud them both for the triumph of putting themselves out there. 

OCD Raccoon

Anxious Face

I tend to anthropomorphize, but it is well documented that animals exhibit OCD and anxiety similar to humans (To read more about this from professionals, you can see this described by National Geographic in 2013 and The New York Times in 2014).  

I have previously described how my own dog, Gus, battles anxiety. However, last week I actually witnessed an animal performing compulsions like someone in the throes of OCD.

My family and I were in Nassau at Blue Lagoon Island.  We crossed an item off of my bucket list and met a sea lion.  After our sea lion encounter was over, we walked around the island and that was when we saw a very special native: A Raccoon.

This Bahamian was in a cage.  We approached hoping not to scare him, and he started performing a very interesting behavior.   He was on a platform and was repeatedly walking from one end to the other.  When he got to the end, he would touch it with his hand and go back to the other side.  He would then touch that side and go back to the first.  He did this over and over and over again.

My heart broke for this little guy.  He was all alone and exhibiting this behavior that made no sense - something that I myself have done to cope with stress.  Even though I did not know what was going on in his mind, I knew that he was not at peace.

Animals are so like us: It is beautiful when we can connect with their joy and tragic when we can relate to their pain.  Our similarities can also help us help each other.  Tel Aviv University did research in 2009 on animal OCD behavior and captivity, and what they found revealed another way to approach OCD treatment for humans.  In a similar way, I'm sure Fluoxetine was originally created to help humans, but now it is the pill my dog is on for his anxiety (You can read more about fluoxetine - trademark name Prozac - in this article on the National Center for Biomedical Technology website).

I hope that the owners of this raccoon, whoever they are, ultimately speak with a behaviorist and try to investigate what is going on and how they can help him lead a better life.  Although animals do have similarities to us, they also have many different needs that should be respected.   

When you take on a role of animal owner, you also take on responsibility for that animal's health - both physical AND mental.  In addition to taking the time to thoroughly research the best way to care for the animals they own, owners also have to recognize when a problem is beyond their depth and they need to appeal to a professional with more education and experience.

Just like in the human world, we need to start taking mental health more seriously for animals as well.  They are more than just cute faces, they have full lives that we must respect and nurture.

A Perfect Wedding Weekend

Guest's-Eye View.

May 19, 2018 was the day I had waited for my whole life: Wedding Day.

Naturally, as someone with anxiety and OCD, I spent a lot of time leading up to the wedding worried about all of the things that could go wrong.  

Well, the Saturday of the wedding a lot of those worries came true and then some.  For example, it POURED after I decided that we should get married outside (because surely the rain would hold out).  The chuppah and multiple floral arrangements were completely destroyed and my hair had significantly fallen by the time of the service from the humidity.  During the ceremony, the rabbi read the wrong traditional vows (not the ones we had chosen) and a baby babbled throughout, distracting me from our personalized vows.  The cake looked nothing like the picture, and the DJ started our choreographed dance before we were ready so we started off balance. 

But guess what?  Even though many of my fears were realized, it was still a perfect weekend.

I am not going to lie to you and say that I did not get upset when some of these things occurred.  I felt so many things that weekend...  Happiness.  Nostalgia.  Lucky. Angry.  Amused.  Sad.  Overwhelmed.  Excited. Grateful.  Anxious.  

But the overarching feeling was love: love for Nathan, love for family, and love for friends.  Even as the blunders piled up, nothing could ultimately overtake the overwhelming joy at the significance of the day.

My OCD and anxiety crept in of course, especially on Sunday.  My anxious brain was doing what it normally does and I found myself very focused on the negative.  I was frustrated and angry at myself for choices I had made that caused problems (like not calling for an indoor ceremony).  I was also feeling guilt and self-loathing at the anger and frustration I had experienced on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.  

My sister Linda (the maid of honor) really helped calm me down.  With OCD, it is common to judge and doubt yourself for your thoughts and feelings.  She reminded me that my feelings were all very natural and that overall the day was wonderful.  She suggested that I make a list of all the fun, wonderful details from the day so that I would not forget them.  

Watching the Royal Wedding early in the morning with my Mom, sister, and bridesmaid Katie... Being surprised by morning chocolate strawberries Nathan sent to the suite... eating chicken nuggets with my bridesmaids while we were all in curlers getting ready at the hotel... entering the ceremony with my dad and seeing everyone I love watching me walk down the aisle... Nathan and I getting our footing back and nailing our tango... Dancing with my sorority sisters.... Eating cake back in the suite with Nathan after the party.  All of these moments are mine forever.  (I also got some fun details I had missed by asking friends and relatives to share their favorite moments with me.  I recommend all brides collect their own lists!)

Nathan with his new wife, bro-in-law, and sis-in-law.

I pulled myself together ultimately, and that Sunday afternoon was a continuation of a wonderful weekend.  My family, Nathan and I got dressed up again and my bridesmaid Megan took family pictures of us with our dog Gus.  Then, Megan continued to lead mom, Nathan and I on a photoshoot around Cleveland in the perfect Sunday weather.  We captured a lot of photos we never would have gotten otherwise, including shots on the rocks in Lake Erie (Now that the wedding was over, I did not have to worry about the dress getting wet!).

The spot we said our vows on Pearl Island.

In terms of the rabbi reading the wrong vows, Linda also came up with the great idea of privately reading our chosen traditional vows to each other while we were on our honeymoon in the Bahamas.  We made our intended promises on top of a lighthouse on Pearl Island in Nassau... a spot so perfect, another young man proposed to his girlfriend up there that same day. 




My advice to anxious brides is to remember that when the people you love are there, nothing can ruin your wedding.  Enjoy every second of your wedding weekend.  Love is the ultimate triumph.  When you are marrying the right person, you get your fairytale.  The logistics of the weekend will work out.  

Focus on the positive and remember that some of those "errors" can ultimately lead to more beautiful memories.  After all, if the rabbi had not read the wrong vows, we never would have had our moment on top of the lighthouse.

Bridal Neuroticism

No veil can hold back all these feelings.

My wedding is less than two weeks away, and I am in a feeling frenzy.

By this I mean that I am experiencing all of the feelings.  All of them.

My new therapist said from our first meeting that she hates weddings because they cause so much stress and conflict.  I have been lucky in that my mom has taken on most of this stress through planning the rehearsal dinner, wedding, and out-of-towner brunch.  We haven't faced any crazy levels of conflict either... but a wedding is a wedding.

Nobody can save me from the emotional significance of my wedding day.

My anxiety disorder has compounded with the natural anxiety of being a bride. This has lead to an experience of intense volatility, and I am moving through the whole gamut of human emotions hour by hour: from elation, to despair, to anger, to amusement, to frustration, to excitement, to irritation, to anxiety, to contentment.  It is not about cold feet or doubt as to whether the marriage is the right thing; it is like marriage has initiated some kind of emotional existential crisis.

My thought processes move like this:

It will be lovely to move into a new house with my new husband.
I NEVER GET TO LIVE AT MY HOME WITH MY FAMILY AGAIN.

We get to really start building our own family!
WHAT IF I CAN NEVER GET PREGNANT?

I love my fiancé, he is so handsome and kind.
WHY IS HE SLEEPING?! I NEED TO TALK TO HIM! HOW COULD HE DO THIS?

My fiancé and I get to spend the rest of our lives together.
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE DIE? 

I can't wait for my wedding!
THIS IS THE LAST TIME ALL YOUR FRIENDS WILL BE TOGETHER.

I wish I could stay focused on the positive and joyful pieces of the now, but when you have anxiety, the darker thoughts always find a way to mix in somehow.  You are often worried about the future or upset about the past.  Having OCD can make this hard as well, as thoughts that you don't want to have seem to stick the worst.  Therapists will recommend mindfulness techniques, but it can be very hard not to get caught up in your fears.

Now, I am the first to admit that a high level of irrationality has taken hold. This was proven to me the other day when I called the auto-body shop to cancel an appointment.  I was mid-major crying breakdown as I dialed (functional even mid-frenzy).  I was so hysterical on the phone that the worker let me know that I could still come there if I needed to talk to someone.  You know you have reached maximum-crazy-woman-potential when the man at the car shop is offering you emotional support.

I have strong logic skills, so my irrationality is always interestingly tempered by some understanding that I'm being irrational.  For example, yesterday when we went to get our Ketubah (the Jewish marriage contract) framed, the woman was curt and dismissive of us, and I was very perturbed. I refused to go anywhere else that day to handle the errand.  

I was irrationally upset, and all I wanted to do was call customer service and rant, but I also didn't want anyone to lose their jobs or be punished.  I mean, this woman was probably being paid minimum wage which isn't enough to care about anything really.  I realized the call would be useless, consisting of me saying that I was wronged but refusing to say when or by who.  

I played out what I would say in my head, but I never called. I took a nap instead.  Lucky for Michael's customer service line, I am not good at lashing out.  Truthfully, I think the world would be a much happier place if more people took naps instead of calling customer service.

After that nap, I woke up and through the rest of the day and night continued to move up and down through the emotions.  Today has been exactly the same.  It's fascinating to experience (if understandably somewhat frightening to spectators).  I'm just trying to move through and hopefully not cause too much collateral damage. 

The wedding is now 11 days away.  I'm lucky enough to get to marry the man of my dreams, and if it takes an emotional rollercoaster to get to the alter... at this point I just need to laugh and enjoy the ride.  Getting to have him as my husband at the end of the day will be the ultimate triumph.

I lost 10 pounds in two months! Ask me how!

At the beginning of March:
Goal achieved... but at what cost?

Chronic Stress and Anxiety!

Not the answer you were expecting?

Women in modern American society are constantly reminded that thin is the ideal.  

Thin = Pretty
Thin = Desirable
Thin = Good  

People who lose weight quickly and keep it off are considered success stories.  We all want to know their secrets... How can we be thinner too?  

What people forget is that weight loss isn't always a positive sign.  I could be a considered a weight loss success story, but my experience is not something you want to emulate.

When I bought my wedding dress back in October, I told the seamstress I wouldn't be losing any weight.  I've tried losing weight many times and trying to diet never seems to work, so why would it now?  I have blogged about dieting in the past, along with the OCD struggles that come with it, and I am well aware that I suck at dieting effectively.  The last thing I wanted was to buy a dress that wouldn't zip on the big day.  I decided to watch what I ate and maybe if I was lucky I would lose a pound or two.

What I didn't account for was that between working two jobs, taking tutoring clients for my own business, house hunting, and wedding planning, I wouldn't even have to try to lose weight - the insane amount of stress and the ensuing anxiety flair-ups that followed would do the work for me.  

Some people reach for food when times get tough, but I stress starve. When I feel like I'm drowning in responsibilities and struggling to find time for basic needs, food is the first thing to go.  If I start to panic as to what to tackle when, a meal is an easy thing to cut while prioritizing - an unnecessary time suck that can always be postponed. 10 more minutes of sleep vs. breakfast? Sleep always wins.  

On top of that, if the anxiety gets too extreme, I often do not even want food.  I start to feel disgusted at the mere idea of it.  Keep food away from me and let me take a nap.

I know this is not healthy.  My weight has not been this low since I was 22 and had an OCD/mental health breakdown while trying to figure out what to do with my life.  I know that in these extreme circumstances I need to find a better way to balance getting nutrition and fulfilling my obligations.  The real tragedy here though is all of the positive reinforcement I have been getting for these unhealthy behaviors.  Because thin is the goal, once the weight started to fall off, the compliments started to pour in.  

I do not have an eating disorder, but this experience has given me more of an idea of the seductive nature of the process.  I have bought clothes in sizes I never dreamed possible, and I couldn't help but feel like I had accomplished something when they fit.  

But perhaps the craziest part is that I still do not really feel thin. My weight high was 142 pounds and I always thought if I could just get down to the teens again, I would be happy.  At the beginning of March, when I hit 119 (23 pounds less), it didn't even feel that different.  So what weight would be low enough?  Is there a weight that would make me satisfied? 

At my final wedding dress fitting last week, I was warned that I need to maintain my current size - any more weight loss and the dress will not fit.  I have been hovering around 118-119 for the past month, my weight maintenance supported by some lovely dinners out and a decadent Vegas bachelorette weekend of indulgent eating.  

During this final countdown, I know I need to schedule meals and jump on to the self-care movement to stop my weight from slipping any further.... but part of me still can't help wanting to be thinner.  I have to work hard to fight against ingrained cultural beauty standards that value image over health.  

If this experience has taught me anything, it is to be very careful when dishing out weight loss compliments.  Sometimes weight loss is a sign of illness.  For example, my grandmother wanted to be thin her whole life and ultimately only reached her goal when she contracted pancreatic cancer.  Then there are the stress and anxiety situations like mine where mental health imbalances are manifesting physically.  One of my friends lost a lot of weight before her wedding because the stress of wedding planning on top of her intense grad school program actually gave her an ulcer.

Next time you are feeling dissatisfied with your weight, remember to practice gratitude. Having an appetite is a blessing, and enjoying a good meal is one of life's great pleasures.  If you are at a healthy weight and you feel good, there is no need to make yourself miserable trying to "lose those last 10 pounds."  Take it from someone who lost them - you may not even notice that they are gone.  

The Pain of Cyberbullies and Internet Trolls

The kindness of strangers.

Oh, the wonders of the internet!  It is a magical place: a place where I can see almost unlimited pictures of puppies and hedgehogs, a place where I can share my story and make meaningful connections with people across the world, and (sadly) a place where I can be randomly insulted at any time.

I would like to share with you a story from last Tuesday evening.  

Background:  There was a man from an OCD support group that I had reached out to in September of 2016.  I wanted to ask him his opinion on some of the recent drama that had transpired in an OCD facebook group we had joined.  I reached out to this particular man about it because he had a different group himself and I felt the need to talk to someone else about this weirdness.  

He agreed with me about the odd Facebook group situation.  We spoke a few times and shared a number of pleasant conversations about OCD, facebook and blogging.  We didn't speak often, but when we did he was always very nice and we were both supportive of each other.  Though he was in another country and almost a decade my senior, it was nice to meet someone who was facing similar demons and who worked on OCD advocacy.

In February 2017, we had a brief conversation, and then I didn't hear from him until one evening in May 2017.  I responded expecting normal pleasantries and asked for an update on the book he had said he was writing.  His response?

"May I see the mounds?!
As in your huge tits 
Go on"

This was followed by a missed Facebook call and finally the message "No worries."

I just didn't respond.  

This was not how we spoke to each other.  In our first conversation he mentioned his girlfriend and I spoke about my boyfriend.  While he had made an occasional flirty comment before, it always seemed to be in good fun and he was always respectful. I didn't understand where this came from, but I certainly didn't need to be sexually harassed online.

To his credit, the next day he messaged me apologizing saying that he was drunk.  However, I chose not to reply to his apology.  Though we had chatted a few times, I considered his outburst a pretty significant breach of boundaries.  The consumption of alcohol is not an excuse for harassment, and I did not care to continue speaking.  At that point, I considered the matter closed.

Then comes Tuesday. I was perusing Facebook, minding my own business, when I received the following message from this man:

"They're fine udders
Pity about the face
You look like an old woman
Bet you love to knit"

10 months without a word, and out of the blue boom.  Another mention of my boobs, followed by a nasty dig at my looks, completed by a laughable conclusion.  Where did this come from?

I hate to admit it, but my anxiety and self doubt had me looking at my pictures and trying to figure out what made me look old.  The self-blame is easy and natural for me.  However, recognizing the ridiculousness of such a reaction, I started to ask myself what the comment said about the commenter.

That is where the real tragedy comes in here.  I started to think about the kind of pain someone must be experiencing to feel the need to lash out at people online.  I started wondering what kind of need someone is trying to fill when by cutting down someone else from afar, unable to even witness any reaction.  What satisfaction did typing these things to a relative stranger give to this man?

Also, what do these bullies hope to accomplish?  Cyberbullies have literally contributed to suicide.  I would assume most of them are not sadistic enough to hope for this result, but that begs the question... what exactly were you hoping for here, guys?  

Do these bullies want their targets to hurt the way that they hurt? Are some of them seeking some kind of twisted justice?  In the case of the man who messaged me, for example... was he so mad that I had not accepted his apology that he felt he needed to get back at me for it all this time later?

At my tutoring job recently, a student was looking at research articles related to cyberbullying.   One of the articles described how there are even groups of internet trolls who specifically target funeral pages (I could not believe that this would be at all widespread, but apparently it is very real and has been for awhile.  Check out this article from 2011 describing the problem.)  

With all the wonderful things a person could spend time doing on the internet (ex. There is literally an entire Facebook group dedicated to "Disapproving Corgis"), how bad does a person have to feel about him or herself to be spending otherwise free time trying to tear down other people? 

Happy people do not become cyberbullies or internet trolls.

Please do not get me wrong here.  While pain may be a reason for cyberbullying, I do not believe there is any excuse for it.  Cyberbullying is cowardly, cruel and destructive.  However, I do think there is a benefit in recognizing that cyberbullies are not coming from a place of strength or power.  

If you are ever harassed online, either directly or anonymously, remind yourself of this.  Do not let the opinions and rantings of troubled minds determine how you judge and value yourself.  Repeat the wise words of Coco Chanel, "I don't care what you think about me.  I don't think about you at all."

And to the guy who harassed me:  I hope you work through whatever's going on and find peace.