The Flip Side: How OCD Can Be a Good Thing

Last year, before I started this OCD blog, I attended a lecture about the disorder. Most of the discussion centered around Martin Luther and his struggles with scrupulosity, which, incidentally, is a fascinating (and for me, relatable) subject.*

The conversation returned to this century when someone asked about OCD and work ethic. The presenter, laughing, exclaimed, "My OCDers are some of the best workers ever!" I think I actually laughed, too.

It's true that OCD affects my work ethic, among other parts of my life. I thought it time to count my blessings.

One necessary, precursory caveat: Sure, OCD was nothing I chose, just as I didn't choose any of my innate characteristics. Therefore, I'm not going so far as to be proud of my condition, as if I've accomplished a great feat in having it. I'm merely pointing out that nothing, no matter how hard, is all bad. Here's why that's true for my life:

• I apologize when I'm wrong. When obsessive compulsive disorder did what it's named for, i.e. throwing my life into chaos, I tried to get a hold of the intrusive thoughts that came with it. If I couldn't, I could at least feel guilt for them, which taught me what an apology really is, and when it's necessary. If I've hurt you or wronged you, you can be sure that I am comfortable humbling myself to ask for your forgiveness.
• I DO have an excellent work ethic. My job requires me to check things, and make sure they're correct. Guess what? I'm really, really good at it! Even better, this kind of controlled checking teaches me to be mindful, giving me daily practice at understanding how much is reasonable and how much is unrealistic perfection. Beyond checking, though, I have an honest desire to be good at everything I do. Again, an exercise in limits, but still.
• I think about things others don't. Whether it's tackling a problem or relating to another person, I do things a little differently. I posted before about my non-linear thinking, but there's more. Maybe it's akin to magical thinking, but I often make mental connections that aren't obvious to most other people.

If you and I have similar obsessions and compulsions, maybe these things are true for you, too. Do you care about people's feelings? Then love well. Show it, even to strangers. Are your thoughts a little off-kilter? Find a career that welcomes quirky creativity. If you haven't ever seen the other side of OCD, here's your challenge: In what ways has OCD made you who you are? How has it made you better?

Now, in the words of an old friend, I'll catch ya on the flip side.

*If you're interested in people in history who have OCD/scrupulosity, put John Bunyan on your list, too.

Don't Ever Take a Break

I took a too-long break from blogging, throughout which occurred to me many ideas that were never written down! (Hiatus Rule #1: If you go on a hiatus, take a pencil with you.)

But I'm back and ready to pick up where I left off. (Hiatus Rule #2: Don't expect OCD to take a break with you.)

It was all for good, as some pretty big things were happening in my life during my break from my blog. Maybe I'll even tell you about some. But until then, there's plenty more OCD to talk about! (Hiatus Rule #3: Pray that people haven't stopped reading!)

Looking Back Issue 1: "I Kept Apologizing"

This is the first iteration of my new series titled "Looking Back." Each post will analyze an entry in my OCD journal from 1998 when I first received the diagnosis. In most cases I won't post the entire entry (they're pretty lengthy), but I'll highlight the major points.

"Today I apologized to Tom for the third time; I said I was sorry for criticizing him about how he could all of a sudden like a new band, when really, I had done the same thing a few times."

Tom, to my middle school self, seemed to follow the pack. Evidently he had found a new band that he liked, and I presumed it was because someone else liked it. Judging by the entry I could have said something like, "So you're all of a sudden an Everclear fan?"

Granted the subject matter is immature, my ability to express how I felt was, I feel, beyond that of most of my friends at age 13. But still, one theme is at work here that I can only understand now, looking back.

Craving Consistency
To some people with OCD, this manifests itself as a need for symmetry. For me it was consistency. I had to be sure that the way I represented myself was consistent across the board, or at least internally consistent.

Here's what that looked like to me then (pardon the insipid example, but I want to stay true to the subject matter): It was inconsistent of me to buy, on a whim, a Third Eye Blind CD and then say what I said to Tom. It was hypocritical. How could I criticize someone for something that I have done myself? The only way to set things straight was to apologize. If one time didn't feel right, or I didn't feel like he understood me, I'd do it two more times.

Questioning Understanding
Later on in the journal entry I described planning a trip to a theme park over the phone with Leah, one of my best friends. My family invited Leah, but she declined the offer.

"I hung up, but now I am compelled to keep asking her if she's able to go on Friday. Well, more like to reassure me that she's not going. I feel like there's something I misunderstood and that we'll get home Friday and there will be a message on the machine: 'I thought you were taking me to the park?!' I remember the whole conversation but I'm still afraid I made a mistake and misunderstood."

When I finished reading this entry I was amazed at the exact correlation between this second-guessing and any of the second-guessing I do now as an adult. Furthermore, I didn't realize the over-apologizing was present so early on, or the need for consistency so pervasive. But the more times I see the monster, the easier it is to recognize him.

Checking: A Good Week

Checking is my most common ritual. I can do it physically or mentally, but the mental checking (or rumination) is most debilitating for me. Whatever the case, my major, stops-me-in-my-tracks OCD begins and ends with checking.

That's why I have to keep it, er, in check. If I see myself doing more checking of things, like asking my husband "I didn't sound mean when I said that, did I?" or running back into the bedroom before I leave in the morning to be sure the heating pad is turned off, I force myself to stop for two reasons:

1. It could be indicative of depeer issues. The last time I let allowed myself to check and re-check, it turned out a crisis was looming. My grandfather had just died and I was in for a two month-long regression.
2. It could make my OCD worse. As I said in a previous post, "The more I check, the more doubt takes over and I fall victim to checking things repeatedly, or worse: fearing things that cannot be checked-away. Soon the snowball effect of anxiety and depression consumes me." For me, checking is my "gateway ritual;" it leads to worse things.

And forcing myself to stop is just what I've been doing! It was a pretty uneventful OCD week, but every morning that I was the last to leave the house the disease tested me. "Did I unplug my curling iron?" "Is the computer off?" "What if it just looks like it's off?" But I obeyed the tenets of Exposure & Response Prevention and I faced the fear!

With a shrug I locked the door behind me and left for work.

My Worst Therapist Appointment: Part 2

In my previous post, you learned what happened in the waiting room on an emergency visit to a new therapist. It was April '08, and I was in the midst of an OCD crisis. I thought it didn't matter who I talked to for OCD help. Boy was I wrong.

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When they called my name I had never been more ready to get out of a waiting room. I found my way through the narrow hallway (remember, this place was like a rent-a-shed) and into the therapist's office. We began to talk about me.

He was "nice" in the most general sense of the word. If not for the OCD and the events of the prior 15 minutes, on any other occasion I would have found him satisfactory. But of course since this was the re-opening of my case, we had to go through all the silly stuff. What do I like to do? Where do I work? Am I married? How do I feel about myself? You know, all of the typical cognitive behavioral treatment getting-to-know you prodding. I only had 45 minutes with this guy, I thought, so let's get on with it.

"What do you do to relax? You should try Yoga." He went on to some generic gibberish about yoga, mantras, etc. I wasn't listening. When there were only 15 minutes left on the clock, we finally talked about why I was there.

It's Me with Scrupulosity
My obsessions at this time in my life are key to the story. At times I have dealt with scrupulosity, and this was one of them. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, scrupulosity is OCD with a religious spin.

People who deal with scrupulosity often feel a sense of inadequacy before God, and apply OCD to their spiritual lives. For example, they may repeat prayers, never feeling like they were "done right" or they somehow "didn't count." Long story short, I am a Christian and I believe in salvation through the sacrificial blood of Jesus Christ. But scrupulosity exists completely separate from strength of faith. (I will devote an upcoming blog post about scrupulosity in depth.)

My scrupulosity, at this time, was stronger than it had ever been. My grandfather had just passed away, and I guess you could say that stirred up some fears about the afterlife. I felt the need to ask God for forgiveness of a very personal sin. I did what the scrupulous do. I repeated prayers. I asked my husband to pray with me over and over. I even asked for reassurance, by seeking the advice of anyone I could trust to see if they thought God forgave me. It was different than "regular" OCD because I thought I could never really know if I was forgiven until I died.

Awkward Help
I thought my appointment with this new therapist would give me just enough reassurance to move on to another worry, or finally, to peace. He asked me about my worry, and I told him about it.

I think he said something like, "Everybody does that." So? That didn't matter to me. My OCD was still telling me that I hadn't really repented because I had inklings what I did was wrong when I did it. What did the therapist have to say about that, my OCD challenged him.

"Well, what does Jesus teach? Jesus teaches forgiveness." He was right. I knew it, of course, but thought, Ok, let's see what kind of a therapist we're working with here.

"Remember? In the Bible? The prostitute. Jesus said she didn't have to be stoned," he went on, making awkward allusions to one of the most (dare I say) widely-known, too-convenient pieces of scripture. People who don't know anything about the Bible know this story. And HE thought he could use this to fix ME?! It was the way he said it that got to me. Like I was supposed to believe that this new-agey guy really understood me. The moment he began misquoting scripture was the moment I checked out. For a second time that day, I had already mentally left the builiding.

Why This Matters
If I was going to be invested in this guy, and trust that he would be invested in me, I had to know that he understood me. He clearly did not. He didn't understand my beliefs, my faith, or what I hold dear. One on hand, I needed to talk to a Christian counselor. On the other, I needed someone who understood OCD and how it permeates everything that is important to me.

The moral? I needed to find a therapist who could meet me on my level. Since then, I have, and she is fantastic! Now my scrupulosity is at bay and I'm not struggling with it very often.

Even better, the healthy me knows that I don't have to die to know I'm forgiven. The Bible says, and I'm paraphrasing, "as far as the east is from the west, God will separate you from your sin." Period. Doubting God is distrusting God. It's the hardest lesson for an OCDer, but I'm working on it.

Better safe than sorry? No, sir.

Sometimes I wish I'd never learned the proverb "It's better to be safe than sorry," because it's become my enemy. It's pretty much the worst thing a person with OCD could ever be told.

Say I went to a party last night. I wake up this morning replaying the events of the whole party over in my head. Did that one comment I made about the host's home come out wrong? Were people offended? Did I look like I thought his house was a mess? I had better apologize when I see him because it's better to be safe than sorry.

Or what if I'm cooking dinner, and the thought occurs to me that maybe I didn't wash my hands after touching the raw chicken. Then I touch the outside of a bag of flour. To a healthy mind it's no big deal if I didn't because I'm not serving dinner yet and I'm really only touching the pan handle with my chicken hands. Well, just in case, I'd better wash my hands anyway. Better safe than sorry.

But Am I?
These tendencies to "re-check" and "re-do" are my rituals. I can check anything, depending on what I'm worried about. As a person with OCD these rituals are soothing, but I'm addicted to the relief of doubt they give me...until I doubt something else.

The more I check, the more doubt takes over and I fall victim to checking things repeatedly, or worse: fearing things that cannot be checked-away. Soon the snowball effect of anxiety and depression consumes me. Depending on what I'm worried about I might land myself in an emergency room, 10 pounds lighter (read: sicklier).

The Problem of the False Premise
While "Better safe than sorry" is a helpful rule for the healthy mind, it's poison to the obsessive-compulsive mind. Checking and rechecking everything is a misapplication of the rule to situations that don't warrant it. I can check that I've turned the stove off, but what is the liklihood that I wouldn't see its glowing coils when I turned off the kitchen light? Pretty unlikely. The axiom assumes that every situation is highly risky, when in most cases it isn't.

A Different Kind of Relief
As part of my constant recovery I am taught to go towards the anxiety. Going toward it means flat-out avoiding the tendency to recheck. It teaches me to accept doubt. Accepting doubt flies straight in the ugly face of the proverb and my perversion of it...but it feels great.

I take a look at my life from a wider angle: How is it better to let doubt control me? If I'm certain that my purpose is not to live in suffering, and I am not living my full potential if I am paralyzed by worry, then it would follow that being "better safe than sorry" is, in fact, a lie.

Whew, what a relief.