OCDPOETRY.COM
A personal account of obsessive-compulsive disorder, depression, social anxiety, and agoraphobia
Please be sure to visit my other website ReconcilingFaith.com
I knew for a long time that I had obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) from shows that I had seen on television and things that I had read. What I didn't know was that OCD is an anxiety disorder.
Anxiety is what tells our body that danger is near, and all of us have some level of anxiety over day-to-day concerns at some time or another. In a person with OCD, our body alerts us to danger at times that it shouldn't.
OCD tends to run in families, and my understanding of it is that the tendency toward OCD can be inherited, having to do with levels of the brain chemical serotonin, but the actual disorder cannot. It can also be brought on by traumatic experiences.
Obsessions are recurrent thoughts that cause anxiety. Common obsessions are dirt, germs, and orderliness. These obsessive thoughts cause us to perform compulsions in an attempt to relieve anxiety, but the anxiety is only temporarily relieved, so the compulsive behavior has to be continually repeated. Common compulsions are hand washing, checking, and cleaning.
I have suffered from OCD since I was about 10 yrs. old, but it didn't become debilitating until about the age of 18, and over the years, it has manifested itself in different ways. When I was young, I mainly obsessed with having everything "just so" and would order and arrange things. With school work, I would start papers over and over again, because I didn't want to cross things out or erase things. In high school, my grooming rituals kicked in: I was obsessed with my appearance, and I spent hours getting ready for the day. Although these things could be distressing, my social anxiety was much more of a problem for me then, in respects to functioning, than my OCD was.
As I said, at the age of 18, my OCD became debilitating. I had checking compulsions at one time, having to make sure the stove was off, the doors were locked etc., and doing these things again and again. By far, though, the cleaning and grooming rituals have been the most pervasive. I am obsessed with germs, appearance, symmetry, bad thoughts, religious obsessions, and fears of illnesses. The compulsions I perform to relieve my anxiety are cleaning, grooming, ordering and arranging things "just so", counting, and praying. Even though I know it is not reasonable to continually perform these tasks it is still very difficult for me to stop. I am a perfectionist and extremely conscientious, as most people with OCD are, and, because of that, my OCD bleeds into almost every area of my life. I experience physical symptoms that can also be very distressing, heart palpitations, chest pain, dizziness, sweating, nausea, and numbness and tingling. These physical symptoms can be frightening and embarrassing.
My OCD, social phobia, and agoraphobia have caused me to experience intense fears and to avoid many situations. At times, I couldn't go to the grocery store, a mall, or any place alone. Even things that seem of little significance such as making a phone call or going to a teller machine caused me great anxiety and fear. As I nurtured the fear, it grew into bouts of agoraphobia and kept me from leaving the house at all.
Before seeking help, these disorders greatly hampered my life and kept me from doing many things that I would have liked to have done. I felt so helpless and depressed at times. At first, I never sought help because I thought it was just the way I was. The response I got from family members and close friends, regarding my OCD was that they seemed to find my OCD comical. Of course, they never really knew to what extent I was suffering, and because my OCD manifested itself mostly in cleaning and grooming rituals, they would say things like "So, you're house is extremely clean and in immaculate order; what's the problem"? They found it comical when I would empty the trash can because I found one piece of trash in it or that I would do the laundry (which consisted of one or two garments), or when they would see me pick up things immediately that were laid out of place, or pick up the most minute piece of fuzz up off the carpet.
My constant cleaning was construed as me being a "neat freak", but it was so much more than that and I was suffering immensely. I was discouraged from seeking mental health help for some of the same reasons many other people are discouraged: It is frowned upon because of the stigma--you're considered weak or crazy, or both -- and it's embarrassing for you and for your family members. Another critical thing that kept me from seeking the help that I so desperately needed was the fact that I am a Christian, and I knew that in most Christian circles my reality was not going to be received with compassion and would be interpreted as a lack of faith or sin.
This poem tells of my battle with OCD. It truly expresses some of the bondage and suffering that goes along with this disorder, not only for me, but my family as well.
Cleaning the bathroom, I shine all the chrome,
Killing the germs, with my scrubbing bubbles foam.
No smudge or smear, can be left on the glass,
Just not acceptable, considered no class.
I step
back to check the mirror from every angle,
And even up the towels, from the bars where they
dangle.
The ceramic tile, reflects my round face,
Two bathrooms to go, must keep up the pace.
Fluffing the throw rugs, as I exit the room,
But have to go pee, so back in I zoom.
Now once again, I must fluff all the
rugs,
The footprints I’ve left, have just got me bugged.
Finally, I may now depart, off to the next bathroom,
Where my detailing will start. I repeat these rituals,
Till all bathrooms are clean, but hurrying and hoping,
Some sun I might glean.
Dusting
and polishing every nook and cranny,
Hope this will take some weight off my fanny.
Straighten the bedspread, pick lint off the rug,
Vacuum the bedroom, give the bedspread a tug,
No
footprints left as I back out the room,
But the bedspread still crooked, so back in I zoom.
To straighten the bedspread and get it just right,
Much time has passed but, oh, what a sight!
Now I
must vacuum the room once again,
To make it just perfect, and neat as a pin.
From my room, to Tanya’s, then
Teisha’s I go.
Repeating these rituals, and frustrated so.
But
downstairs, there’s still so much I must do,
Vacuuming, dusting and straightening, too.
Then a phone call from a dear friend,
Asking for time with me to spend.
But, of course, accepting an invite to
lunch,
Would put my housecleaning rituals, in a time crunch
So, "Not today," I must reply,
But sadly feeling life’s passing me by.
A slave to these rituals, day after day,
Someone, please help me, please help me, I pray.
Aligning and ordering to get things just right,
So everything’s perfect by the end of the
night.
No lint balls or dust balls anywhere to be found,
No specks on the carpet, no laundry around.
The floors have all been washed and waxed,
Now energy’s fading, my body’s been taxed.
Cleaning frustratingly, on and on,
The clock keeps ticking, the sun almost gone.
And tomorrow I’ll rise and do it all again,
The battle keeps raging, but I’m determined to win.
In come my husband and girls from their day,
Home to the showroom, or museum, as they say.
Worried that they might mess something up,
I watch every move and follow behind like a pup.
The home and safe haven I thought I had made,
Has now become prison, the foundation is laid.
Now undoing this structure, brick by brick,
Will take some work and a little trick.
I call this OCD problem I have,
"High Standards" and "Protector," they’re my little
lads.
My goal will be, to lovingly train,
These unruly children that drive me insane.
I’ll love them tenderly, but keep them in line,
And when they step out, I’ll train them to mind!
This poem truly expresses the pain that becomes so much a part of these disorders. The feeling of being trapped in a body that wants to do so much more, but fear keeps you prisoner, only able to watch others enjoy life--as peering through a window--a window in a house you want so badly to escape from. You feel as if you are missing so much of life as time continues to tick on. At times I felt extremely lonely and isolated.
What is
it that she wants,
What is it that she sees,
That seems so unattainable,
Impossible to reach?
Encased
within this house of fear,
Yet longing to be free,
Watching life quickly pass her by,
Wondering will it ever be?
Looking
through a "pained" window,
She see the goings on,
Yet nothing seems to wait for her,
Why can't she too belong?
Days,
months, years are gone,
Never to follow her heart,
Destined to live, yet not at all,
Encumbered and apart.
As a result of my anxiety, I also experience panic attacks. At times, I have become so overwhelmed with fear that I could hardly function at all. When the panic overcomes me, I hyperventilate and get nauseous. My throat gets tight and it is difficult to swallow. Food and water have actually gotten stuck in my throat. I also suffer from horrible heart palpitations and the scary sensations have sent me to the doctors office on more than one occasion.
The other physical symptoms I get can also be distressing and embarrassing. When it is time for my menstruation, I've been housebound because the bleeding would come in a flood or gush and cover my clothing--I once had that happen to me at a dentist's office. My anxiety also reeks havoc on my bowels, so I also deal with irritable bowel syndrome.
I fear many things. When my husband or daughters were running a little late, I would wonder if they had been in a severe accident, instead of the more probable scenarios of them stopping at the store or to get gas. My mind always went to the worst case scenario.
When I would babysit other children, I was always fearful that the child might get hurt in my care; then the parents would blame me; then they might sue me, and on and on the thoughts would go.
I always worry about my health, and whenever I do have something wrong with me, again my mind always goes to the worst case scenario---I have breast cancer, bowel cancer, or bladder cancer.
I feared being in social situations, being alone, and of going places alone. I have even worried whether someone was going to ring my door bell, because of the fear of having to open the door and deal with an outsider, or fear that someone would see the real me -- the way I looked without my makeup! I wouldn't even walk to the mailbox without my makeup on. Most of the time, I didn't go anywhere alone. I'm able to now, but at times I have a hard time enjoying it and just relaxing and being myself.
I still experience my mind going blank and feel very uncomfortable in new social situations, but they are doable. I still sometimes find myself stumbling over my words in ordinary conversation and feel so out of place and as if a magnifying glass is right over me. I always feel that my tremulous hands and mouth are going to be a dead giveaway to others of what I'm feeling on the inside, and sometimes it still makes me want to retreat. Medication and therapy does help, but sometimes this is still my reality.
It gets a grasp around me,
And tightens up its hold,
A bucket of emotions,
Quickly, then unfold.
Anxiety and fear,
With immobilizing power,
Turn life upside down,
Then proceed to devour.
Some handle life’s pressures,
Without emotions running high,
They function normally,
So why can’t I?
When I wrote this poem, I was still extremely depressed and choosing to focus on everything wrong in my life and every hurt, misfortune, and mistreatment I had ever suffered. It's not just our situations and circumstances that cause us to be distressed. It has so much to do with the way that we perceive those circumstances and the way we choose to respond to them.
It's clear, here, I hadn't yet dealt with many of my issues and clear that there was a process of forgiveness yet to be tackled. Hurt, anger, low-self esteem, and self-pity permeate this poem.
No
one can comprehend,
Why she wouldn’t want to live,
Why she feels she has no value,
Nothing worthwhile to give.
From the outside of her house,
You view the model family,
But the windows are kept closed,
Curtains drawn, so you can’t see.
And
inside on the wall,
Hangs the "picture of deception"
Gracefully displayed,
To grab everyone’s attention.
If
you walked her steps through life,
The true picture you would see,
And you, too, would seek a way,
To finally be free!
God doesn't promise us the absence of difficulties and hard times, but He does promise to go through them with us, if we let Him.
What could cause a person such despair that they would want to take their own life? No "real" Christian would try to take their life, would they? (For the answer to that question, I hope that you'll read my narrative and poem Who I am in You, which follows this one.) For me, it wasn't one thing, but a series of things, a series of things that made my life feel out of control. My world was turned upside and seemed hopeless. I had let my depression get to extreme proportions, and I didn't seek the professional help that I so desperately needed.
Whenever someone is suffering from a disease other than mental illness, we realize that sometimes that there is a need for intervention (such as medications), and we usually don't hesitate to tell them to seek it out. With mental health issues, that's sometimes not the case. A friend of mine said two things to me that were very comforting in regard to seeking mental health help. The first was that "all healing is God's healing" and the second was that "all truth is God's truth"--two very simple statements and two very simple truths. Although his words were obviously very comforting, I still had much of my own work to do reconciling my Christianity and my disorders. As Christians, we sometimes think we have the "corner" on truth when, in reality, there are many screwed up Christians.
I realize now that seeking professional help did not negate the fact that I was trusting God and I have reconciled my faith and my disorders. I'm thankful that I have a knowledgeable and caring therapist, and God has worked through him. I'm thankful to God for always being faithful, for watching over me even when I may not have realized it or felt it, and for being a comfort to me that no one else could ever match. I thank God for always calling me back to Him, and I thank God that His promises are true --- as He has used my circumstances to allow me to know Him better and used a tragic situation for my good. "All things work together for good, to them that love God and to them that are the called according to his purposes." Romans 8:28
I was in the deepest darkness, and encompassed by its pain
My problems, fears, and anger ruled my heart, they ruled my brain.
Hurts, doubts, and disappointments slapped daily at my face,
The hopelessness and depression, I wanted only to erase.
Like waves erode a beach line, my surface ,too, was wearing thin,
The constant waves of my problems, came rushing, crashing in.
And fiercely pounding at my heart, fiercely pounding at my head,
They finally had convinced me, it’d be better if I were dead.
Carrying me even further out then I had already been,
Now I felt even more alone, without comfort, without friend.
There seemed no one for miles and miles, in this vast expansive sea,
No one to reach their hand, no one to hear my plea.
The coldness of the water chilled me to the very bone,
My body numb to any feeling, my heart had turned to stone.
I tried to pick myself up from the bottom of the sea,
But the waves, extremely forceful, had now overtaken me.
Fighting hard to reach
the surface, I used all my energy.
Now I was truly, truly drowning, no one would rescue me.
I was feeling so all alone, and feeling so ignored,
I felt I could end this pain by going home with my
Lord.
But the way out of this darkness, and into the marvelous
light,
Was to truly rest in Jesus, and let Him fight my fight.
And there was always someone listening who understood
everything.
He wanted very much to help me, and safely to the shore
to bring.
And I always had a rescuer, and I always had a friend,
Who wanted to reach out to me and all my needs attend.
But He kept me in the darkness, He kept me in the pain,
‘Til the pain so overwhelmed me, I would look to Him
again.
And of my thoughts and wrong emotions, He wanted me to
let go.
This is what He has taught me, because He loves me so.
Though He didn’t change my circumstances, I won’t let
them intrude.
And even in the midst of them, I can change how they are
viewed.
I don’t have to respond to them, in such a negative way,
And they have molded me and shaped me into who I am
today.
So I am no longer drowning in my problems like before,
My head can stay above the water, where He’ll keep it
ever more.
I only have to trust Him and let Him lead my way,
And He’ll enable me and help me, He’ll help me face each
day.
So I am so ever thankful, my Lord will choose the time,
When He takes me home with Him, to peace and love
sublime!
One of the biggest struggles I had after my suicide attempt was trying to understand how I could attempt to take my own life -- now that just seems like such a ridiculous thought to me. I'm sure my scrupulosity played a role in those feelings, and I think anyone who attempts to take their own life is going to sufferer from some measure of guilt and shame. The truth is, though, that whatever we choose to focus on is going to influence our behavior and, yes, anyone, even Christians, can find themselves in a terrible state of depression. The reality is that Christianity and faith do not equal perfection. All the great people in the bible had flaws, and they all sinned, some were even guilty of what we classify as the "big" sins --- adultery and murder. David was one of those individuals, and God called him "a man after my own heart." Acts 13:22 God said that because he knew David's heart and that the desire of David's heart was to be please Him and be faithful to Him, just as the Lord's desire was to do His Father's will.
I had to learn to interpret scripture based on all of the word of God, instead of taking one scripture and applying it explicitly. I know that God's word does not contradict itself, so if there seems to be a contradiction it's because the scripture is not being interpreted in context and according to its purpose or true intent.
When my conscious is troubled because of guilt and shame, the reality is that God still loves me and He always there waiting to restore me. God wants to draw us to Him, not push us away. "If thou Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand? But there is forgiveness with thee that thou mayest be feared. " Psalm 130:3,4
Our efforts don't get us to heaven and our sins are not what keep us out, because God has already taken care of that through Jesus Christ. Through Christ we have forgiveness of sin: He paid it all. He died on the cross for your sin and for mine.
Christ's death would have had no purpose if we could get to heaven by our own works. "I do not frustrate the grace of God, for if righteousness is come by the law, then Christ is dead in vain." Still, knowing this to be true, I was constantly judging myself and filled with so much guilt and shame.
I also had a difficult time understanding why, in my mind, "God had let things get so bad; God had allowed me to sink so low." God lovingly showed me, and reminded me, that He is always faithful. He never left me. I left Him. I didn't stay plugged into my source of strength and comfort, and when I took my eyes off the Lord and He was no longer my focus, I had nothing to focus on but myself and my problems. What we focus on definitely influences our behavior.
You
reached down from heaven, Lord,
and tugged at my heart,
I invited you to dwell within,
of my life you became a part.
Ever since that special day, Lord,
I’ve made many a mistake,
But your mercy and forgiveness,
were given for my sake.
And
You came to give me life, Lord,
life more abundantly,
In despair I had forgotten,
the love and care you have for me.
You are a loving, kind God,
and you understand my pain,
My hurts, doubts, disappointments,
more than anybody can.
So
how could I sink so low, Lord,
and commit such a sin?
When with you we can have victory,
with you Lord, we can win!
Instead of focusing on my problems, Lord,
I should have focused more on you,
And let your strength sustain me,
and your wisdom guide me through.
I
know you never left me Lord,
because your word is true,
But it’s I who disobeyed you,
and it’s I who did leave you.
Help me Lord to always listen,
and hear you when you call,
And harden not my heart, Lord,
so in sin I do not fall.
I’m
trusting in You, Father,
though the waves grow bigger still,
Help me always to obey you,
and always do your will.
Though my value isn’t measured,
in the things that I may do,
My desire is to please you, Lord,
and magnify you too.
And
by You, I’m not measured, Lord,
not by the things I have,
Not by my occupation, Lord,
or my works good or bad.
So I realize my value, Lord,
comes not by what I do,
And not by my behavior, Lord,
but by who I am in You!
So
for your grace and mercy, Lord,
you’re worthy to be praised!
And thank you for Your Son, Jesus,
who from the grave You raised!
You came to give me life, Lord,
and I must delight in Your way,
And every burden, every sorrow,
come to you Lord and lay.
Your word is Truth and Holy,
it will not steer me wrong,
For your Truth, Wisdom, and Counsel,
my heart should always long.
So now I must remember, Lord,
that You are in control,
And everything that You allow,
its purpose makes me whole.
And
though I chose to venture,
down the wrong path once again,
Your loving hand redirects me,
For Your Glory in the end!
My social phobia was just looked at as extreme shyness. No one knew to what degree I was really suffering. I avoided many situations, situations I really wanted so much to be a part of but was too fearful to participate in.
I wanted to join the school clubs; I wanted to go to the prom; I wanted to go to the parties; I wanted to be part of the group -- I wanted to fit in.
As I grew older, I still continued to deal with many of these same issues. I wanted to be involved at my children's school. I wanted to be able to hold a conversation with the person in the grocery store who spoke to me. I wanted to be able to hold a conversation as well as the precocious 8-year-old in the waiting room of the doctor's office, who obviously was much more comfortable in his skin than I was. I wanted to be able to write a check at the store without trembling. I wanted to feel comfortable at all the social events. I wanted to dance at the party. I wanted to be able to work outside of the home. I longed to do all of those things without feeling like my heart was going to beat right out of my chest.
I was thought of as being painfully shy and was often told to quit being so "backward." As many of us do, I experienced many painful things throughout my life which caused an already shy person to become an introvert.
I wrote this poem after acknowledging my past experiences and working through the difficulties they have caused, a process of healing to comfort that little girl inside me and, now, as a woman, protecting her.
Her big
brown eyes, curly hair,
and caramel colored skin,
Her soft, sweet smile, her tender heart,
and beauty from within.
Her funny laugh, her playful gait,
her shy, timid way,
All still much a part of her,
who she is today.
But a discouraged, wounded spirit,
a broken saddened heart,
Stopped her from flourishing,
almost from the start.
Now the broken little girl,
lets go of all her pain,
And the woman now takes over,
her spirit to regain.
And when they join together,
a uniqueness they’ll take,
And completely and perfectly,
a special woman make.
They have traveled through their lives,
each their separate street,
With different eyes of life,
but finally they meet.
And so gracefully they converge,
so both become whole,
To form the protective corner,
that guards and keeps her soul.
Finally, after a lot of work and therapy, the door of my small world was beginning to open. After a bout of agoraphobia and spending all my time within the confines of my home, I once again was able to experience life again and do some of things that I used to be able to do---I was even able to do some of the things I once feared. I felt like a rose in bloom!
It was a gradual process, with visits from my therapist's office ending in short trips to the mall or the store to gradually expose myself again to the things that I feared. Each time I would lengthen my stay in the feared environment, and, in time, I eventually felt safe and more comfortable.
We all go through tough times, times of feeling defeated and discouraged and, while we're in them, sometimes it feels like there is absolutely no way up, no possibility of recovering. All of us have experienced them, and we all need to be lifted up and encouraged from time to time, but I can honestly tell you that there is always hope; things can and do get better; and life is definitely worth living!
Oftentimes things seem hopeless, but just like a rose bush, pruned back and lifeless-looking, eventually blooms again, so do we, and, we, like the rose, will continually bring forth more blooms because of it!
Pruned and bare, standing near the
ground,
and no sign of life to be found.
Yet spring approaches and green appears,
Sprouting here and sprouting there.
The sun bursts through the morning air,
with warm, bright shining, beaming glare.
As the voice of the perched songbird
sings,
and flutters gracefully with its wings.
The beads of dew kiss the morning rose,
it slowly points toward the sun and
grows,
And gently unfolds each soft petal,
Before shedding to the ground where all
will settle,
Once looking lifeless, parched and dead,
only a brittle twig in a flower bed.
Waiting for its time to shine,
and show its beauty by design!
Bitterness and anger, even when justified, soon get the best of us, and it doesn't matter whether the pain stems from something we've brought upon ourselves or whether someone else has caused it; it spreads like a disease. Anger isn't a necessarily a negative or wrong emotion. "Be angry and sin not. Let not the sun go down upon thy wrath." It is how we choose to respond to the emotion that can be are undoing. When we let our emotions control us, the pain eventually grows bigger than our ability to cope. I learned that I can respond differently through the power of the Holy Spirit. I don't have to allow those emotions to take root and hinder or destroy me. I can allow my experiences to make me bitter, or I we can choose to let them make me better.
It's easy to love those who are treating us right, but it's a much more difficult thing to love those who are not; that response just doesn't come naturally. I'm not talking about being a doormat or staying in an abusive situation or putting up with situations that we shouldn't. God's loves us unconditionally, yet He also loves us wisely and responsibly: God has standards and boundaries. We need to do the same thing -- loving others unconditionally, yet still responsibly and wisely by making better choices and better decisions.
I do know that we have the ability to move on from our hurts through the power of Christ and that we have the ability to forgive and let go. It takes work, though, and it takes continual effort, because we're human. We can't turn our emotions on and off; we can only make the choice to respond to them differently.
The
depths of me it pierced, a pain that
wouldn’t subside,
An ache so relentless, many times my
soul has cried.
The throb like of a heart beat,
constant, ceaseless, deep inside,
Would only bring destruction, sought
only to divide.
Devouring
upon each organ, like a cancer running
wild,
Gnawed away at any connection, brought
me into exile.
A swift and aggressive approach, to
capture this mighty foe,
Was the only course of action, to
conquer and bring low.
A weapon
gentle, but of great power, would be the
master of this siege,
It would wholly conquer, and eradicate
disease.
A love beyond all measure, like the Lord, Jesus, has for me,
To truly love all others, with a love
unconditionally.
A love
that allows forgiveness, a love that can
set free,
A love that ends all hate, this love, my
victory!
Still extremely depressed, and written with sarcasm, I guess I was doing a little venting with this poem. I was very angry because I had been labeled with a "mental illness," and I really felt like some of the people around me needed more help than I did. You know the saying, "It's the ones that don't think they're crazy that you really need to watch out for." That's exactly how I felt! Yet, to hear everyone else tell it, they were all in their right minds---well, actually, they were (but so was I), but they clearly had some ISSUES!
There were times when I felt like every problem I had was blamed on my anxiety disorder, when, in fact, it was much more complex than that, and there were serious life issues and other contributing factors that caused my symptoms to flare out of control.
However, as I gained more knowledge of OCD, I did start to recognize things as being part of my OCD which I had not recognized before. OCD is so insidious and it does seem to take advantage or try to capitalize on the things in our life that are of most importance to us.
There were times I started thinking that I really was crazy: mental illness equaled crazy, in my mind, and some of my obsessive thoughts worked on my mind daily and came close to convincing me of that. I now understand that people who have OCD are not crazy--a little weird, maybe, but crazy, no.
Drained,
tired,
weary, don’t
want to face
the day,
or even deal
with life,
in any kind
of way.
Slipping,
sinking,
drowning,
in
confusion,
in such
pain,
This huge
whole in my
heart,
wondering am
I really
sane?
And everyone
around me,
the "sane"
ones,
so they
think,
Are living
in denial,
already at
the brink.
Maybe that’s
their
secret,
themselves
they never
see,
It’s easier
to pretend,
than be
"classified"
like me!
I had attempted to seek employment on many occasions and, at times, I was able to endure the great anxiety it caused, but it wasn't without a price. Most of my employment was short-lived, and when I felt I could no longer endure the anxiety, I would leave the job, which only made me feel worse. I had no coping skills, and I didn't understand why I was not able to function the way most people did. I felt very inadequate. I wanted to feel that I was contributing--contributing to society, contributing financially to my family--and at a time when most women are now working outside the home, my lack of a career or full-time employment was something I constantly battled with.
Over the years, I worked several part-time jobs and would do this so that I would still be able to perform my cleaning rituals. I trained as a Medical Assistant, which was something I actually intended on doing right after high school but backed out when my girlfriend was no longer going to do it with me: I was too afraid to do it alone. I was able to finish the course, but it was so frightening having to go there by myself every day. I eventually overcame the fearful drive, but the social aspect was tough every day, and although I loved what I was learning, I knew the extreme fear I was harboring of actually having to perform my duties.
Once I finished the course and was placed in my internship, I was absolutely terrified. I initially asked to be placed in a different internship. I can't remember now the reason that I gave to my instructor, but I did convey that I thought I would do better in a smaller office environment. My instructor obliged and assigned me to a another internship. I was still barely able to cope.
I wanted so badly to be successful. I hadn't put in all these months of work only to fail in the end. Every day I would fight the fear and push through, but every day it took everything I had to make it through the day. I was sick every day and made repeated trips to the bathroom before even leaving the house. Once arriving at work, it was straight to the bathroom, and it was then that I began suffering from irritable bowel syndrome.
Everything needed to be done perfectly. Everything needed to be in its place. There was no room for error. I was so fearful that my actions might in some way cause harm to someone, that I might not sterilize the equipment properly, or that I might forget to make a notation in a chart, or would make an incorrect notation. I was fearful of germs and of catching some illness, and, along with all of this, there was still the anxiety I felt from the social aspect and the great anxiety I felt because I could not perform my housecleaning rituals in the order and detail that I wanted to. Life was exhausting and I began to have panic attacks, although, at that time, I didn't know that's what they were.
The panic attacks were horrible, but I would push through them and come home so terribly exhausted that all I wanted to do was hide in my bed. I would get dizzy, nauseous, my heart would race, and I would have heart palpitations, which grew worse over the years. I felt like I was coming unglued, like I was having a heart attack, like I would die.
I managed to finish my internship and was offered a position, but I turned it down; I didn't think that I could do it, and I was too afraid to try.
After a short hiatus, I headed out to find work as a Medical Assistant and worked for a plastic surgeon for three months. After that there were many more attempts at many different jobs. My self-esteem was non-existent.
I eventually sought help through Vocational Rehabilitation, which turned out to be a real blessing to me. It was comforting to be able to share my disability and have people work with me who were understanding of my disorders and who knew my history. I remember that my Vocational Rehabilitation counselor had a very prominent stutter. He compassionately worked with me and lead me to a computer training program through Goodwill Community Foundation. I was able to train in an intimate group of people and in an environment that felt somewhat comfortable.
I experienced the same initial fear once I was placed in my internship --- terrible fear of actually having to perform my duties and terrible fear of making a mistake or doing something wrong.
I did successfully complete the computer training program and internship and graduated with special honors. I went on to work as a Medical Data Administrator.
I am so thankful to both the Vocational Rehabilitation program and Goodwill Industries. Both of these programs played a major role in helping me gain marketable skills and to overcome some of my fears.
Let me just say, exposure therapy does work, and I have had success with it. I do feel, though, that graded exposure works much better than flooding. I feel like my "pushing through" only made my symptoms much worse.
I wrote this poem for my graduating class and actually read it in front of many people at the graduation ceremony!
Windows, Word, Excel, Access and PowerPoint too,
It would take a special teacher to help us make it through.
To learn computer lingo, these software programs too,
An extremely difficult task, more than any of us knew.
Documents painfully disappearing time and time again,
We learned the importance of saving, in the proper place and when.
And mathematicians we were not, Ms. Horton soon would realize,
But we finally mastered a spreadsheet, I’m sure to her surprise!
And poor Mr. Kilpatrick would be tortured just as well,
A mouse was just a rodent, as far as we could tell.
The CPU, the hard drive, bytes, buses and memory,
All parts of the computer that were foreign to you and me.
And Ms. Chmiel I’ll always remember, and I think we’d all agree,
For always teaching her students so enthusiastically!
She always made us feel no where else she’d rather be,
Than standing in her classroom teaching you and me.
Things I’ll always remember from the classrooms where we sat,
Mr. Kilpatrick’s favorite saying, "Why you wanna do a brother like that"?
Ms. Chmiel’s favorite saying forever ringing in my ear,
"You’re responsible for your own actions," will echo loud and clear.
And Ms. Horton in her classroom standing in the rear,
Constantly telling Annette, "We don’t mash anything in here!"
We’re thankful to our instructors for teaching with such care,
For undertaking a task that few would ever dare!
We have so much to be proud of, our special group of five,
Having made it through a program where "only the strong survive!"
Helping and supporting one another, true teamwork we displayed,
And through this workplace skill, lasting friendships we have made.
Long after we leave this program we’ll have many stories to tell,
But more importantly, we’ll have valuable skills as well.
We all are very grateful to Goodwill Industries,
And thank you for this program, this opportunity!
It can be an embarrassing and humbling thing having a disorder that you feel few can relate to or understand. Who should you tell and who shouldn't you tell? What will be their response? Will they have any empathy at all? How can I explain something that I don't even understand myself sometimes? Can people even begin to understand the extent of the turmoil and fear inside me?
What a great feeling it is to receive genuine empathy, to feel like other people really "get" it!
You're the only one that understands,
Even when it makes no sense,
And has no rhyme or reason,
You're there at my defense.
This is the way You've made me,
With all my quirky flaws,
And maybe for a reason,
And maybe for Your cause.
I wish that others saw me,
Through your Justly, Holy eyes,
And saw in me what you see,
But don't want me to disguise!
I became a mother and wife at a very young age. I have two beautiful daughters who were seventeen and nineteen at the time of my suicide attempt. My family has always been of utmost importance to me, but all of the issues that I hadn't dealt with and hadn't processed in a healthy way, caused me to abandon everything that was most precious to me.
Attempting to take my own life was a purely selfish act, but my pain was so great that it outweighed my ability to cope. I know I caused my daughters great pain and anguish and, for that, I'm truly sorry. But focusing on that detail is definitely not productive for me and it certainly can't undue the past. So, instead, I choose to focus on the fact that I can move on from this the same way I have moved on from other things in my life, and I choose to focus on the promise God has made good on in my life many times before -- that He will work all things out for my good.
There are no mistakes, simply "life lessons," opportunities to learn and grow. We definitely learn more from our struggles and difficulties than we do from our successes, and I know, firsthand, that it is in difficulties that we learn who God really is .
This poem is my acknowledgment of all the pain I caused my daughters, reassurance of my love for them, and my expression of once again having the desire to live.
You are my precious daughters,
How could I hurt you so?
You’re my joy, my life, my world,
And this I hope you know.
I didn’t mean to cause you pain,
Such grief and such sorrow
Or make you feel all alone,
Dreading your tomorrow.
Can you try to understand,
Overwhelmed with despair,
Mom made a wrong decision
And one, that was not fair?
I hope you can forgive me,
And never doubt my love
In my heart I hold you closer
Than a hand is to a glove.
You both played Mommy to me,
When I couldn’t face the day,
When I should’ve been Mom to you
But in my bed I lay.
Thanks for your love and caring,
The smiles and hugs you gave,
But, most of all I thank you
For being so very brave.
I want to be your Mommy,
For many, many years
To share with you life’s journey,
Your happiness, your tears.
So until the Lord, Jesus,
Calls me to my home away
I’ll be your loving Mommy
Mommy to you every day!
I'm thankful to the Lord for once again getting me through a difficult time. His presence, His love, His goodness, His grace, His mercy, His faithfulness, and His forgiveness are all demonstration of His great love and care for us, and the only thing He asks for in return is that we love Him!
Look around at all the beauty God has surrounded us with; it shouts of all His majesty!
We see all that You’ve created,
The blue majestic sky,
Sparkling stars to dance upon it,
The heavens for birds to fly.
The mountains in their splendor,
Etched out upon the sky,
Green valleys placed below them,
So gracefully they lie
Roars and whispers of the ocean,
The way the streams do flow,
The cascading of the river,
The brook, its trickle slow.
The breeze of sweeping winds,
Trees swaying from side to side,
Branches that bow and bend,
Leaves to twirl and to glide.
The snow, the rain, the dew,
Which in the clouds You hide,
Know when to bring refreshment,
And to the land provide.
The array of blossoming flowers,
You’ve clothed so vividly,
Pink, yellow, gold and crimson,
For all the world to see.
All concede of Your existence,
Who in You, would not believe,
When so awesomely together,
The universe You’ve weaved?
A magnificent portrait You’ve painted,
Such pleasure for the eye,
That shouts of all Your Majesty,
And proclaims Your Glory high!
I'm still learning to deal with my disorders and the challenges that they bring, and my faith has grown because of it. My symptoms wax and wane, but I am able to control them through the use of medication and therapy.
I think it is also important to stay closely connected to God and to keep my relationship right with Him no matter what my circumstances might be. Before this whole experience, I believed the word of God, but it was through this whole experience that God's promises became real to me. I can honestly say that I have learned more about God and His true nature through all of this, and it has certainly been well worth it to me.
With my OCD
rituals, I thought I had control, a well-ordered life, when in reality
so much was out of control. From an outside perspective things
looked clean and perfect, but on the inside there was so much pain,
torture, and emptiness. I was no longer cleaning because my house
was dirty and needed to be cleaned, and I was no longer making a
relaxing and enjoyable
environment for my family. I was so lost in the details that the
very thing I was trying to achieve was missed. In much the same
way, I think people miss God.
I have often been asked how "religion" has helped me through my difficulties. I don't believe religion does help. Religion is about keeping rules and traditions, and much like OCD rituals, often the motivation for keeping them is fear. Rules and regulations that are motivated by fear, and often applied with a lack of compassion and driven by compulsion or out of a sense of duty, only serve to make us feel more spiritual.
Religion is like washing the outside of a dirty cup --- the outside might look clean but the inside is still dirty! God isn't just concerned with the outward appearance of things. God is concerned about our attitudes and our intentions because that is where sin begins. We may be able to change our behavior, but only God can change our hearts, and He wants to transform us from the inside out. Keeping magic checklists, whether OCD or religious, though they provide a sense of control, end in empty rituals.
Religion can't substitute for a "relationship" with Christ. Religion has not helped me but a real relationship with Christ has. The Lord is my greatest source of strength. His truths and promises are real and they are mine! They comfort and sustain me, and my hope will always be in Him!
With all the doubts my obsessive-compulsive disorder can generate, there is one thing I don't doubt, one thing that I know for sure, God is definitely real --- real and ready to reveal Himself to anyone that wants to know Him. We don't have to work or try to earn a place with God, we just have to be willing to come. Our relationship is only right with God because of the death of Jesus Christ and the shedding of His precious blood. "And He hath made Him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him." 2 Cor. 5:21
God loves who we are, not who we pretend to be, and although we may be able to hide certain aspects of ourselves from one another, we can't hide anything from God, yet, in spite of that, God loves us and accepts us.
If you would like to have a personal relationship with Christ, it all starts with your will. Are you willing? If so, please visit my other web site, RECONCILING FAITH.
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