OCD: Sharing My Intrusive Thoughts

          For my friends and family who don’t know yet.

          Two and a half months ago, I was diagnosed with OCD and clinical depression, but I’m going to be okay.

          Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is a commonly misunderstood anxiety disorder that affects about 2% of the population. We all experience something called “intrusive thoughts”. These are ideas that enter our consciousness that we don’t invite and usually don’t like. When they occur, most of us just dismiss them and move on. People with OCD have a glitch in their brain that makes processing these thoughts rather difficult. Rather than moving on, OCD-sufferers will internalize the thought and then use compulsions to try to get rid of it. However, the compulsions just make the thought stronger. These intrusive thoughts are ego-dystonic, meaning they are opposed to our natural personality or character. Some of them can be rather mild and sometimes they are incredibly distressing. If the compulsion is not performed, it causes major anxiety. There is no win.

           OCD comes in many forms, but they all stem from the same basic problem in the brain. The kind most people are more familiar with involves outward compulsions, like washing hands or repeating movements. Another kind, often referred to as Pure-O (Pure-Obsessional) OCD is less familiar to people. With Pure-O, most of the compulsions are mental, which makes the OCD invisible. It involves compulsions like repeating phrases or prayers, avoiding “magic” words, trying to solve the genesis of the thought, reassurance, etc. “Pure-O” is a bit of a misnomer because while the compulsions are not visible, they are certainly there. Many people, myself included, struggle with more than one form.

          You can read a lot more about this online. Now I’ll tell you a little of my story.

          I had no idea I had OCD. I just thought I was an over-thinking, over-emotional person. So the diagnosis was a shock. However, as I have reflected over my life, it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all.

          There were lots of little things. Tennis shoes for example. I have to re-tie them constantly. When I was a child, it would take me sometimes more than half an hour to put on my shoes. I stopped wearing mascara for a long time because I couldn’t get my eyelashes to look the same on both eyes. I had to part my hair on either side on rotating days. So I had a weird thing with symmetry that has manifested itself in different ways throughout my life. No big deal, I thought.

          I have had deep spiritual issues that have been quite distressing throughout my adult life. I have questioned the existence of heaven, the goodness of God, the very existence of God. I have been convinced that my husband wants to divorce me, just because he didn’t say “I love you” before he fell asleep, for example. I constantly have to check things, like my purse or my lists. I have had thoughts of driving my car off of overpasses. I am fixated on aging and my own death, daily. When good things happen, it makes me sad because the good thing will end. I could go on, but I’ll spare you.

          Most of you reading this will have had several of these thoughts, and that’s completely normal. The difference is that for me, the thoughts will not leave. Before I was diagnosed, I spent hours each day dealing with these thoughts. The more I tried to get rid of them, by repeating prayers or ruminating, for example, the more the thought persisted and the more anxious I became.

          Dealing with all this has had some major consequences on my emotional well-being. Years ago, right after my third son was born, I told my obgyn that I was really sad. He said it was post-partum depression and put me on birth control pills. That didn’t fix the problem. A few years ago, shortly after we moved and after my grandmother passed away, I told my doctor that I was dealing with emotional difficulties. She put me on Zoloft for a year. It helped so much, but it did not address the underlying issue, so the sadness came back.

          Then this fall, things started to get really bad for me. Dealing with thoughts of my own death hundreds of times each day was wearing on me. Getting up to go to work became extremely difficult. Smiling and meaning it became difficult. Everything upset me. I am not suicidal, but I could not imagine that kind of existence much longer.

          I went to a psychologist, rather reluctantly. I knew the problem. It was obviously hormonal. It was probably left-over post-partum depression. Of course I was wrong. After one meeting, the psychologist confidently diagnosed me with OCD. I didn’t believe her at first. OCD is so invasive, so all-consuming, such a deep part of how my brain works that I had assumed my thought processes were normal. They are not.

          She also diagnosed me with depression. This might surprise people who are close to me. I am a generally happy person. I am positive, cheerful, and optimistic. I am also a great pretender, I suppose. I exerted great effort to be happy in front of people because I never wanted to distress anyone else.

          Now I am on Zoloft again. I am also seeing my therapist regularly and engaging in daily exposure therapy at home. It is awful, quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. However, it is working. So I will keep doing it.

          Sam is being great through all of this. The day I was diagnosed he said, “We just get to understand better how your brain works. And we are still us.” I love him for that. He goes with me to every therapy session and has done so much at home to make sure I’m okay. My boys have been great, too. We told them the truth right away. Like typical children, they are fine with it. My parents, in-laws, and sisters have been so kind and supportive. This is just one more way my amazing family has shown me the incredible depth of their love for me.

          I told my students. I wrestled for a minute with that decision. There is such stigma and misunderstanding around disorders like OCD, I didn’t want to invite more stress for myself into my classroom. However, I ultimately decided I preferred to just be up front with them. They have been terrific and completely sympathetic. I am blessed continually by my students and their big hearts.

          Sam and I are relieved that now we know what is causing all this distress and heartache. While there is not a cure, at least there is effective treatment. There is reason to look forward to tomorrow and smile.

          God will sustain my faith through this trial. He is faithful and good. I cling to that truth and find joy in that promise.