To Hell and....

...On my way back, hopefully?

My last post makes it seem as if things have been cheery and I've been alright. Not so. This was my WORST OCD episode yet, and it really threw me for a loop. I didn't do a very good job documenting it, but since my last post a lot has happened.

The episode has lasted for a month. I had been to the ER twice. I wasn't sleeping. I had been given Xanex, Ativan, and Restoril (not for use all at once, of course). When I tried to eat, I gagged and sometimes threw up. It was as if I was killing myself, but couldn't stop it.

As always, I felt dissociated. Nothing felt familiar to me. I wasn't me, my house wasn't my house, my husband felt unknown...all scary things. I couldn't control my thoughts. They were going where I didn't want them to go, threatening things most dear to me. Fear overtook me. I had thoughts of death, not that I would do anything to take my own life, but as the ER doctor said, "passive death wishes." If a car hit me on the highway it would have made things easier.

All this happened with the knowledge that it all wasn't real. Something had a hold of me, and I wasn't in control. Just a month ago my life was normal. I wanted it back.

I had been put on Prozac as a substitute for Celexa, the drug that has worked well for me in the past. I believe that the Prozac made me worse--not because it is a bad drug, but because it didn't work with my body chemistry for whatever reason. I have friends who have great success on Prozac, but you never know until you try, I guess. In any case, it had meant that I had lost about 3 weeks of recovery time. Now I'm back on Celexa and am glad that there is a drug that actually works for me. I'm praying it has the same effect it had in the past.

My anxiety had moved from my job to that of things I had obsessed about in the past, plus new things. It moved to scrupulosity, and made me feel apart from God, something that I'm still wrestling with. The job stress was still there, however, and I knew I would eventually need to make a decision: would I stay or leave? Was it good for me? Was I made for it? Probably not was the answer to all of those questions. I was at a standstill, unable to figure a way out of my predicament.

My husband, loving as he is, decided I needed to leave. So I did, and now I'm looking for something else.

He was right--taking my job out of the equation went a long way to helping me to deal with this episode. I still have OCD, but we've relieved one of the pressures. Instead of moping around the house I will be out job hunting, and it will be harder for my mind to be occupied with OCD worries.