OCD Workarounds

One of my most nonsensical OCD annoyances right now is my time card obsession.  It constantly evolves and I just can't seem to shake it. 

My work time card is basically the bane of my existence.

It should be so simple... go to work, clock in, work, clock out.  Add the hours at the end of two weeks. Lots of people do this and don't give it a second thought.But instead, with my OCD, it turns into checking and double checking and docking time and worrying. So much worrying.

I ask myself so many "what ifs" related to work timing: 

What if you clocked in before you actually started working?  

What if you clocked out after you finished working, and the delay in opening the app means the clock already moved to the next minute... so now you're getting paid for an extra minute you didn't work?

What if the math is wrong and you're overcharging?

What if you weren't truly working the whole time and you're cheating?

It's always OCD worries and fears related to stealing and dishonesty...  Like just an over-the-top concern I will be getting money I didn't earn. Unfortunately, this leads to compulsions like docking time from myself when I get home. I logically understand that my fixation on this and minute by minute concern isn't normal and my boss would never expect me to do this, but I can't stop.    

I can't seem to get around it either.  I have tried tactics to stop the neurotic obsessing over this (ex. I downloaded a time card app that does the math for me, I text my mom right before I clock in and right after I clock out to have a backup log of the time), but I still worry about overcharging and not clocking in or out correctly.  

The issue is that OCD is amazing at workarounds. If you come up with a way to make things easier, your OCD can come up with a new way to make it hard.  For example, if I try to avoid my time docking compulsion, instead my OCD brain suggests maybe I should keep working a little bit more after I have clocked out to make sure I am not getting overpaid. And even though I now have an app for my time card, my OCD brain still wants me to double check the entries - I write each entry in my planner and double check my app entries against my daily texts to my mom.  To try to stop the worry that I didn't actually check, I make check marks and underlines to try to prove to myself that I did... but I find the worries are still creeping.  Ultimately, I know each compulsion is just feeding the problem. 

My therapist has suggested some Exposure Response Prevention (ERP) style work with this. She says to try just clocking in and out one day without giving in to my compulsion to dock time and to leave the office as soon as I clock out so that I can't give in to my compulsion to keep working.  Instead of the compulsions, I would just sit with the anxiety and reminding myself that I deserve to be paid for my work.  The goal is to see that I can overcome the anxiety and nothing bad will happen if I don't do the compulsions.  Getting to work, clocking in and out and not worrying any more about it is normal.  

But so far, I haven't been able to bring myself to do it.  My fear of time stealing is so great that I worry I won't be able to shake it and will go into full blown panic.  I'm not worried about going to jail or getting punished, I'm worried about being a bad person who steals.  It's such an intangible fear, and the anxiety around it so so big that day-to-day it always seems easier to just cut off a couple minutes than to risk feeling like a fraud.

But the tragedy is that those couple minutes daily add up.  Any fear of cheating myself or cheating my family out of the money I've earned is overpowered by the fear of theft, but I also feel guilty that I keep doing this when my husband works so hard.  At this point, I've tried so many different ways of dealing with the problem except for actually facing the anxiety.  I know ERP can be very successful, I just need to get the courage to do it.

If you're currently dreading your ERP homework, know that you are not alone. We just need to get up the courage to face it.  Today, I did my underlines and my check marks, but here is hoping that I can muster up that courage soon to try the ERP for this and finally work around all the OCD workarounds. 

When You Forget What's Troubling You

Sometimes I have a disturbing or terrible thought and I can fixate on it until it balloons and spirals.  I mean, that's the O in OCD right?  I obsess over things, and I worry and I hem and I haw and I put myself in tailspins repeatedly.

My face basically always.

But when you worry as often as I do, sometimes your worrying gets interrupted.  Someone around might ask you a question.  You might get a text message.  You might even just stumble on another worry and go off on a different anxiety tangent for awhile.

I can't even tell you how many times I have forgotten what I am worrying about.

Now, for anyone who has struggled with an intrusive thought trap, that at first sounds like a dream.  

You forgot the worry?  What a relief!  Now you can move on!

Ha.  Hahahahaha.

I wish it could be that simple. 

But alas, when I forget it turns into a different kind of torment.  My OCD and anxiety is very physical as well as mental.  When I'm anxious, I feel it in the back of my throat and in my chest - a clenching telling me, "Something is wrong."  

The tragedy is that I will try to remember what that something is, and if I can't remember, then I start to worry that I can't remember.  

What if it was important?  What if it was something bad?  What if it was urgent? What if I was supposed to do something about whatever it was? 

The other sick part is that when I can't manage to recall what that original worry is, instead of going away, the anxiety will just finds another worry.  It's a lose-lose scenario where I either remember what was originally upsetting me or find another reason to be upset.  

On the bright side, the forgetting proves that my mind can move away from the disturbing concerns that sometimes seem inescapable.  Plus, the physical manifestations of anxiety can be worked on.  In past sessions, my therapist and I have talked about exercises as simple as deep breathing that can help alleviate the physical symptoms of an anxious mind.  As always, just one step at a time.  

Now if I can just forget when I forget...

I'm an Email Hoarder.

I've never felt like I understood hoarding.  I know it's a very real OCD compulsion that some people have, and I even know a few hoarders, but I just didn't feel like I could relate.

But as I was looking at my email inbox the other day, and I got it.

I have over 2300 messages in my AOL (yes, I'm almost 30) email inbox that date back to 2009, and that is after a recent purge.  That figure also isn't counting the messages I have saved outside of the inbox in folders with titles like "Funny Past,"  "Tutoring," "Travel," and "Old Teacher Comments." 

I showed my sister and she told me it gave her anxiety to see.  But deleting emails from certain people is very unnerving and uncomfortable for me.

Why do I still have "Fwd: Cat-Faucet Video" and "One for the Dogs" from 10 years ago? 

There's this horribly part of my brain that gets switched on whenever I want to delete an old email from a loved one.  My thoughts start hitting on this terrifying realization: Someday that person is going to die and they won't be able to send you email anymore.

I don't want to lose a reminder that my mom sent me a care package in college or something she thought would make me smile.  This doesn't explain every email though, because I have emails from college that aren't even from loved ones.  

Why can't I delete certain messages from my sorority days?  I realized that in many ways it's actually for a similar reason to why I keep the messages from people I care about.  It's because of this tragic fact: I know that I can never get the messages back.

Holding on to those emails helps me hold on to this past that is gone forever.  There's something comforting in being able to look at those old messages from when life was simpler.  So, I feel this compulsion to keep them.  Time never stops, but the emails are some way to hold on to these moments that just seem to keep slipping further and further away.  

I know not every hoarder has these same worries, but I imagine that some hoarders of items experience similar feelings.  It wasn't until recently that I recognized the connection in myself.  

I feel like I can actually relate and understand hoarding in a whole new way now.  So to all the OCD hoarders out there - I want you to know that even in uncluttered houses, some of us are having the same fears...  My clutter is just hidden in cyberspace.

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?"

"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!

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.

Bring Your Fiancé To Therapy Day

Life sentence. :)

So, my fiancé who is normally out of town Wednesday mornings happened to be in town a couple of weeks ago when I had a therapy appointment scheduled.  I knew he had been curious about how best to support me when I'm having an OCD or anxiety crisis, so I decided to bring him in to therapy.

While my therapist gave him some nice advice and a good handout with some strategies for coaching me, she also gave him one piece of advice that I did NOT appreciate.  

He told her about a particular instance where I was crying inconsolably at 3 am over something I had no control over and asked her what he could do next time.  She said he could go to another room and go to sleep. 

Are you for real, lady?

Now I understand this perspective if crying in panic was a nightly habit... even if it was a weekly habit or bimonthly habit.  Obviously if someone is irrationally upset and having hysterical breakdowns late into the night on the regular, that person should not expect a partner to stay up and suffer every single time.

But that is not the case with me.  Not even close.  This was a very upsetting circumstance regarding a family member that lead to what I still see as genuinely justifiable sadness for that person's current situation and potential poor prospects for the future.  

When I was crying, did anxiety lead me to catastrophize?  Absolutely.  But in many ways, this situation was a catastrophe without any help from my anxiety-ridden brain.

One of the tragedies of having anxiety and OCD is that you can often fall prey to "Boy Who Cried Wolf" syndrome.  You get anxious and upset often enough that when something is really bad and you are reasonably upset, people tend to still see you as unreasonable.  

My therapist may have many years of experience with anxious patients, but I can tell you what I know based on 28 years of being me:  If my fiancé had gotten up and walked out to sleep on the couch that night while I was panicking, he would not only have had a panicking and upset fiancée at 3 am.  No, that would have quickly transformed into an extremely hurt, angry, panicking and upset fiancée at 3 am.  

I let my fiancé know that I was not okay with the therapist's conclusion on this issue, and we talked it over.  I think he agreed at least in part with my side.  

It is true that you cannot always be the best judge of what you need, but a therapist's advice won't perfectly apply to every situation you have either.  You have to fit that advice into your life in a way that works for you, and try to make strategies and suggestions fit your individual situation.

Ultimately, I'm glad that my fiancé came with me to therapy if only that it opened up more lines of communication on these issues.  I'm very lucky to have a partner with me on my fight against OCD and anxiety.  Navigating these obstacles will be a challenge, but one I know we can face together.

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".

Another Psychiatrist, Another Let Down

Blooms that meet my expectations.

*Sigh*

I've definitely had my fair share of bad experiences with psychiatrists.  I have even discussed it before on this blog.  So, it is very frustrating to me that a new psychiatrist has just let me down.

It's important to realize that at this point, I am like the dream patient for a psychiatrist.  I know that I have an OCD and anxiety diagnosis, I know what pills work, I am stable, and I just show up twice a year and basically confirm that everything is still going relatively smoothly.

Well, I started with a new woman last summer and maybe I should have known from the beginning it was going to be trouble.  She didn't accept like any insurance plans.  But fine, whatever, I'm on autopilot... how hard could this be?

We met and she seemed nice.  I met her again in January, confirmed things were good, and asked if I could just have some Xanax for emergencies.  I had them in the past, but didn't have them anymore.  She looked at me like I might be a drug addict.  She looked me up in her computer system, saw that I wasn't a pill shopper, and agreed to give me a prescription for 10 pills, but lectured that this wasn't the standard of care anymore and told me she would never give me a refill.  (Please note that since she prescribed them in January, I have taken a total of one.  I seriously only use them for extreme panic attacks.)

So I was kind of off put by that situation, but okay.  I see this woman twice a year.  She doesn't need to trust me.  Whatever.  

That brings us to last week. I get a bill in the mail for $125.  Underneath the date and total info was handwritten only, "missed appointment."  I didn't even recognize the name at the top of the invoice at first.  What even was this?

I was angry, but remembered that I had made an appointment with my psychiatrist back in January for July. It was 6 months ago that I made that appointment, so I had just forgotten the day. I've never had a doctor before who didn't do some kind of confirmation.  Email, text, call... even my manicurist confirms her appointments!  

I called in to figure out what to do and her receptionist basically said all she could do was take the money I owed, but if I wanted to make another appointment I'd have to leave the doctor a voicemail.  I paid and let the receptionist know I wouldn't be returning.

This whole situation had me fuming.  Regardless of the fact that this woman has no confirmation system, what I think the real tragedy is here is that this woman is a psychiatrist who had a patient not show up, who she has had no contact with for six months, and her only response was a bill with the handwritten note "missed appointment."

Luckily, I am stable.  But what if I wasn't?  Apparently she sees no need to confirm and remind patients of their appointments and believes they can remember them on their own.  Well, in that case, the fact that I missed the appointment should be even more disturbing.  What if I hadn't shown up to my appointment because I was in crisis?  A lot of these pills that are supposed to help mental health can sometimes lead to negative effects.  She's supposed to be a mental health professional... shouldn't she at least check in?

I talked to my friend about it who agreed it was ridiculous.  She said her therapist calls her if she's even 15 minutes late for an appointment just to make sure she isn't dead.  

I know most doctors don't check-in when you miss an appointment.  But, as a mental health professional I would hope psychiatrists would understand the importance of showing care and empathy to their patients.  Even if you tell me this woman has no time to send emails or make phone calls, if she had expanded her handwritten note to read, "Missed appointment.  Hope all is well, please check in,"  that would have been enough.

Maybe that's a good lesson for all of us:  Take the little extra step to show people you care.  It can mean a lot.

Birth Control Kind of Crazy

They look so innocuous!

Oh, birth control pills.  They can certainly be a beautiful thing.  Aside from preventing pregnancy (major pro), they can also help keep your skin clear.  Plus, it is certainly nice to be on a schedule and know when you're going to have a visit from Aunt Flow.

That being said, they certainly have their drawbacks.  People talk about how using these pills can lead to depression.  Messing with hormones can mess with mental health.  As someone with OCD and anxiety, I've experienced first hand how these pills can play into some of your weaknesses.  It's a unique feeling of imbalance that I wouldn't wish on anyone.
       
I was on a birth control pill for awhile which went through three different hormone levels over three consecutive weeks, followed by one week off.  I found that one week a month was particularly rough in terms of my mood.  I was extra anxious and cry-prone for that week (My boyfriend learned to tread carefully during this time). Call it PMS, call it whatever you want, it was a noticeable difference that I wasn't comfortable dealing with 25% of the time.

So, this past month I switched to a new kind of birth control pill that my Dr. informed me provides a steady level of hormones, rather than changing week to week. 

Sounded brilliant.  Sounded steady.

However, instead of balancing things in a positive way, now it feels like every week is the bad week!

I am feeling all the feelings.  The negative ones are especially strong.  Sadness. Irritability. Fear. Despair. Frustration.  I started sobbing watching the end of Big the other day.  I was crying just from catching the last like 20 minutes of a Tom Hanks' movie that I've already seen... with a happy ending.  

Feeling overwhelmed and anxious is the standard this month.  I'm going to try and give this pill one more month to see if this is merely a transition phase, but if not I have to explore other options.  

When you have mental health issues, you often have to make tough decisions between two less than ideal choices when it comes to medication (Ex.: Do I deal with the side effects of my OCD meds or do I deal with the intrusive thoughts, fears and anxiety that I experience without them?). My therapist has reminded me that there are other options for birth control if the pills are having too much of a negative impact on my life.  That being said, I like knowing I'm on them and what to expect month to month.  It doesn't seem fair to have to choose between that peace of mind and better mental stability.  

The tragedy is that I might just have to.  

When Anxiety Attacks

Anxiety can hit you like a blizzard.

Mondays are hard.

They are especially hard if you have an anxiety attack in the middle of the afternoon.

Monday morning, I was feeling pretty low.  I was driving home from visiting my boyfriend who lives in another city.  I was still upset about a small argument we had the night before (even though it was resolved.) Adele's "When We Were Young" played on the radio and I could feel the feelings starting to bubble up.

When I got home and was sitting on my favorite chair, all the negative feelings hit. Tragedy. Mom asked me what was wrong, and I couldn't pinpoint it, but soon I'm loudly sobbing in her arms.

Anxiety attacks can feel different to different people.  For me... it feels like my heart is crying.  And I'm crying.  And the whole world is overwhelming and there appears to be no good outcome in sight.

All sorts of negative doubts, questions, and considerations bombard you at once.  Here are just a few of mine from Monday (Trigger warning for those who are prone to anxious fits.):

- Maybe I'll never find a career I love.
- I'm a disappointment.
- I feel so physically blegh lately... Maybe it will always be this way.
- What if I never find someone who loves me enough to marry me?
- My parents will likely die before me and I'll have to live without them.
- I don't see a positive future where I'm happy.
- I should have made a lot of decisions differently.
- I'm getting old.
- There's not enough time.

In hindsight, when the attack is over, many of these concerns seem overblown. But while the attack is occurring, they are all very real.

Why Monday afternoon?  Was it because of where I was on my cycle of birth control pills (Varying hormone levels can lead to mood changes)?  Was it related to an exacerbation of OCD and anxiety?  Was it just a normal twenty-something freakout? Feelings are difficult enough to figure out without these other factors.

My advice to those facing an anxiety attack is to just let it happen.  Cry it out. Feel all the feelings.  Don't hide from it.  Take it from someone who has been there and back (and there and back and there and back....) You will come out on the other side.

Magic Germs

Recently, somebody I know with OCD was having some serious anxiety about getting sick.  The reason?  They were in the vicinity of someone who had thrown up.  Even though she knew she hadn't made contact with that person, she was still concerned that maybe she had been exposed.  What if she had been in contact with a person who had been in contact with that person?

  

What could be lurking on the sink handle?

Now this concern may seem outlandish to some, but for those of us with germ-related OCD fears it makes total sense.  Although I'm much better than I used to be, I know that at different times in my life I have determined that germs have amazing powers.

Powers to spread... powers to stick around. Powers to crawl over distances.  

Magic germs.

But I got to thinking this week... what do I know about germs?  

As far as actual facts go:  Not much.  

What even is a germ really?  As I'm writing this, I realize that I don't actually know, other than that it is something that is icky and can make you sick.

Most of my germ fears are not based on any real scientific knowledge.  They're based on false beliefs, and the tragedy is that I know sometimes there is no level of scientific reasoning that would get rid of the anxiety.

Obviously germs can spread through contact with people who are infected, but different diseases spread in different ways.  I just don't know how it all ultimately works.  There are those times you get a cold and you don't remember even coming into contact with someone who had a cold.  There are other times you know you made out with and snuggled your boyfriend all weekend, and then you don't catch his cold.  

Washing your hands before you eat or after you come into contact with a sick person is obviously a smart move, but over-washing or spending your time worrying about what you will catch will only give you dry skin on your hands and an unquiet mind.  

But I know what it's like to not be able to shake that feeling of contamination until you've washed your hands a certain extent.  My concerns have definitely lessened over the years, but I can still relate to the caricature of an OCD person: someone terrified of germs, washing and washing and washing.  

To those who still struggle, I hope you know it can get better.  With the right treatment, you'll see the real magic isn't the spread of germs, it's the power of your own mind to overcome your biggest fears.

Normal

A comfort after a cry.

I've been in a major funk lately, and not the cool Uptown kind that Bruno Mars sings about.

To top it off, I just discovered that my feelings of awful might not be OCD or anxiety disorder related.  They may just be normal.

What?

I go to my psychiatrist and I tell her about my current life situation... how my business has not been picking up and I may have to find a new job and how my boyfriend has moved to Dayton. (Her response to my boyfriend moving away was just one word: "Yikes."  I hadn't heard that word since like '96.) 

I also tell her how I've been feeling.  I explain how my energy is so low it's hard to get out of bed in the morning, how I have a lack of motivation to do basically anything, and how I've put on weight.  I just generally feel anxiety and eugh all the time. 

I expected her to recommend something different for my medication.  Instead, she reflected that there was a lot of "uncertainty" in my life right now, and then made no change to my drug regimen.

What?

So, I go to see my therapist yesterday and tell her all of this.  I explain how I thought it was weird that we weren't making any changes to the meds when I feel this bad.  Surely something should be done. 

That's when my therapist put things in perspective.

She told me she wanted to "normalize" what I was feeling.  This anxiety wasn't because of the OCD or other anxiety issues: This was anxiety that made sense in my situation.

I've read before and recently talked to my mom about how with OCD, or any other mental health issue, you tend to pathologize everything.  It's easy to blame the OCD for any anxious or bad feelings.  But the fact of the matter is that yucky feelings happen to everyone.  

Now, I don't often like the theory of "normal."  It can serve to make us feel like we don't belong, or we're crazy, or we somehow don't fit a made-up standard. But sometimes we need the concept of normality.  It keeps us in check.  Plus, we all have times where we need to just feel "normal."

So now that my problems have been qualified as not just in my head, I'm left to fight on and figure this out. Triumph or Tragedy? Still unclear.