A change in plans, and more OCD in the kitchen

Thanksgiving cooking ended up differently than I thought it would, and I had more exposures for my OCD than I had planned for.

We had plans to eat with one of Larry’s relatives. So I was going to do some light cooking, just a cake and maybe a side dish or two.

Then on Tuesday, Larry’s relative had to cancel the dinner because of illness.

Early Wednesday morning, before work, I was at the grocery store with my list, picking out items to fix the dishes I had chosen to cook for Larry and me on Thanksgiving.

Later that day, Larry got a turkey breast to fix with some dressing, and I got a vegan fake turkey product to try.

I admit I was not looking forward to getting in the kitchen to do a lot of cooking. OCD was making me dread the stove and the cleanup.

Wednesday night I made a cake and a congealed salad with cranberry sauce.

This round of cake baking was a little easier than my last adventure. I put the eggshells on a plastic bag so I could scoop them up easily and not contaminate the counters (though I did clean them good afterwards).

And I did OK with turning the oven off. I stared at the knob on the stove for a minute or so, but I didn’t turn the stove on and off.

My anxiety level during the cake making process was at about a 60, lower than last time.

I can’t say the same for when I used the stovetop. Once I turned off the stove, I turned it back on and then off twice. I hated giving in. My anxiety was at a 75 or 80 during that episode.

I also had some anxiety about using the can opener for the cranberry sauce. I always meticulously clean the opener after I use it, and I worry about getting off any food residue, even if I don’t see any. But I got it done.

On Thursday morning, Larry woke up with vertigo and didn’t feel like cooking the turkey breast. So we put that off until today.

On Thursday I cooked a hearty vegetable casserole and fixed some mashed potatoes. I found myself having an anxious moment when I turned off the oven, turning it on and off once after initially turning it off.

I’m not sure why I had this problem Wednesday and Thursday with the stovetop and then the oven. It may be that I was just generally anxious about the extra cooking I was doing.

  A good point was that I didn’t ask Larry to check the stove behind me. I wanted to, and even started to at one point. But I knew it would not be good for my exposure and response prevention attempts.

All in all, my cooking anxiety Thursday probably averaged a 70. Once the food was eaten and the cleanup finished, it dropped rapidly.

We had no meat Thursday, but we still enjoyed our food and were grateful for it.

Thursday afternoon? I took a nap. I probably slept more than I ordinarily would have because of the anxiety.

And today, Larry is fixing the turkey breast and I will probably cook a corn pudding.

I realize that a lot of people cook everyday and have little to no anxiety doing it. But that’s just not me at this point.

But despite my ongoing battle with the question, “Is the stove really off?” it’s getting a little easier.

  Does your anxiety get worse when your plans suddenly change? How do you handle sudden changes?

Public bathrooms and contamination OCD

There are things I don’t want to touch. There are places I don’t want to go. There are things I don’t want to see.

I have contamination OCD.

Over the years, it has morphed from an obsession with germs on my hands that led me to compulsively wash them to an obsession with bathrooms.

That obsession led me to clean my bathroom compulsively for hours at a time.

Over the years, the length of time it takes me to clean the bathroom has become a lot shorter.

But one obsession has remained, and that is one about public bathrooms.

I hate to use them. I hate to even go into them because of what I might see.

I used to wonder what it was that I was so afraid of about public bathrooms. I didn’t have the same fear I used to have about hand washing, that I’d pass along germs to others and make them sick. I wasn’t afraid of getting sick myself. So what was it?

Months ago my therapist mentioned that I could be afraid of feeling disgust. But I didn’t really relate that to OCD.

Then I read what Jonathan Grayson wrote about contamination OCD in his book Freedom from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: A Personalized Recovery Program for Living with Uncertainty.

Grayson wrote, “Most obsessions have consequences that you are afraid of” (p. 29). Considering contamination OCD involving bodily fluids like saliva sweat and blood, he named “four different feared consequences that can appear singly or in combination: (1) harm to oneself; (2) harm to others; (3) finding the idea of contact with bodily fluids overwhelmingly disgusting; and/or (4) feeling that having thoughts of contamination is too awful to contemplate” (p. 29).

Numbers three and four fit my contamination OCD. I don’t want to touch or see anything disgusting. I don’t want to even think of anything disgusting.

And there can be plenty of disgusting things to see in a public bathroom.

I’m not talking about things that I imagine are contaminated. I’m talking about stains and smears that I can see.

I’m having a problem with the public bathroom in the building where I work. It’s on the first floor of a building that houses several businesses and gets a lot of traffic. The bathroom is not cleaned often enough.

That’s not just my opinion. Other women in my office also find the bathroom unclean.

But sometimes I have to use it. I have to spend hours at work without leaving sometimes.

When I do go into the bathroom, I try not to look directly at anything. I glance around and try to quickly measure which is the cleanest stall. I cover everything in toilet paper and don’t touch anything barehanded except the water faucet to wash my hands.

I dread going to the bathroom. I get anxious about it. I avoid it when I can.

And I sometimes make plans about going somewhere based on whether or not I’ll have to use a public bathroom.

I know I should do some kind of exposure.

At this point, I am not willing to go into a public bathroom and touch a stain or smear that someone else has left behind. It makes me want to throw up just writing it. I’m not going down that exposure road.

But since I’m trying to avoid feeling disgusted, would it help to put myself deliberately in positions of seeing something I find disgusting? To not turn away, but to stare at it?

I’m frustrated with myself and wonder if I’m not willing to do enough to overcome this obsession.

How can I deal with this aspect of contamination OCD? Any suggestions?

OCD: Struggling to live with uncertainty

A few weeks ago, during a cognitive behavior therapy session, my therapist and I talked about the consequences of following through with an exposure, the one where I would get rid of my pile of unopened mail and other papers.

I could see only a positive outcome from making the paper pile disappear into files and trash bags: I wouldn’t have that task hanging over my head, causing me to feel anxious.

So when my therapist asked me what the consequences would be, I replied, “The anxiety about it will be gone.”

He then brought up a point that I had failed to fully consider: “But won’t you keep on getting mail?”

His point was that as long as I received mail, I would face potential anxiety. I would continue to worry that I had somehow missed something, an unpaid bill, the discovery of something legally important that I had failed to do, etc.

“You’ll never be able to be certain that everything is taken care of,” he said.

He was right. Getting rid of one pile of paper would not take care of any uncertainty I would ever have in my lifetime about my efforts to take care of all my business.

What I had to do, he said, was to learn to live with the anxiety, to feel the anxiety but then refocus my attention and actions and move on.

* * *

This week, a couple of my fellow bloggers wrote about uncertainty and living in the “gray” area. Sunny, of 71 degrees & Sunny, wrote about uncertainty surrounding the health of her cat and her husband’s battle with IBD. Janet at ocdtalk wrote about getting out of the black and white thinking into the gray.

Their posts prompted me to think more about uncertainty and how to handle it.

Those of us with OCD often struggle with uncertainty. One of the reasons we perform compulsive rituals like cleaning and checking is to try to be certain that, for example, there are no germs lingering on the surfaces, that nothing has been left undone that could cause a fire or some other danger.

Compulsive rituals cannot bring certainty, though. OCD thoughts are not rational. They are not rooted in reality. They cannot be tamed with some short-term assurance of certainty. Giving into the rituals doesn’t keep the doubts from returning.

Everyone, not just people with OCD, has uncertainty. There’s just no way for any of us to be certain about many things.

* * *

I made up a list of things that I am uncertain about for myself and for my loved ones:

Will we develop cancer, heart disease, Alzheimer’s or some other serious disease?

Will we have a wreck during any of the many times we travel by car from one place to another?

Where will the next terrorist attack occur?

Will fire, a tornado, a flood or some other natural disaster destroy our home?

Are the decisions we make about our finances the right ones?

Will we always have the benefits of health insurance and access to care?

Will I have a job tomorrow?

* * *

If uncertainty is a given, then how can I live with it in a healthy way?

The only way I know is to embrace the here and now and remind myself that I will handle whatever comes the best I can.

If the only thing I have for certain is the present moment, then I need to fully live in the present moment.

I need to make sure that what I’m doing in the present moment is something good and meaningful and helpful to the world.

I need to say what I need to say now, and do what I need to do now.

I need to be grateful for what I have right now.

Living in the now doesn’t preclude planning for and preparing for the future. What it precludes is worrying about the future.

Of course, all this is easier said than done. But I have hope and faith. They are key for me.

The easiest area of my life to live with uncertainty is my spiritual life. But that is for another blog post, which I will write soon.

* * *

What is your relationship with uncertainty? How have you made peace with uncertainty?

OCD: An exposure I didn't plan

In my last post, I said I was going to do some exposures that I would write about.

In that same post, I also wrote about some physical health issues I’ve been having.

This post is about an exposure, but not one I was planning when I wrote that post on Sunday.

And it involves those health issues.

I wasn’t going to write about this. It was too personal, I thought, and my readers might not like it.

But this blog is about my life with OCD and the accompanying issues. I decided to share this exposure because it was about real life issues.

When I saw my family doctor last Friday, she ordered blood tests, a urinalysis, and a stool sample.

That last one got me. I could feel my mouth draw up a bit. I thought, doesn’t she remember that I have OCD? I just told her I was having anxiety from starting cognitive behavioral therapy. And she asks for a stool sample?

The doctor, of course, was interested in finding out what was causing my stomach pain and problems that have been ongoing for a while. So she went on talking to me, continuing to tell me what the course of action would be. She said that the nurse would give me what I needed to take a stool sample to the lab.

After my appointment, I walked out to my car and sat there while I talked with my husband on the phone. Then I realized that the nurse hadn’t given me the stool sample kit.

I admit, I wanted to just forget it. I wanted to take that as a sign that I really didn’t need to do it. Obviously, it wasn’t that important if the nurse forgot to give it to me, right?

But my husband said I needed to go back and get it. He was right. And I did.

Back inside, as the nurse told me what to do, I again could feel my mouth turning up.

“I think I’ll just wait until after all the blood work results come in,” I said.

The doctor had told me it would take about two weeks, so I thought that was a safe reprieve. And—this was my really, really good reason for waiting—the blood work results might reveal something that could be taken care of and I wouldn’t even have to do the stool sample.

The nurse gave me a look. She was probably thinking that I was a very weird woman.

“OK,” she said. “But you need to call me and let me know when you’re going to do it so I can fax the orders to the lab.”

All weekend, I ate very carefully, wanting to get better quickly so, again, maybe the stool sample wouldn’t be needed.

The nurse called me yesterday and said my white cell count was elevated.

“When are you going to do the stool sample?” she asked.

I guess she had forgotten my “wait until all the blood work comes back” excuse. I decided that I would try to make myself look a little more compliant.

“I’ll wait until after the urinalysis comes back,” I said.

It was going to be another couple of days, so I could continue to avoid the problem. Avoidance can be so sweet.

The nurse called me today. The urinalysis was negative.

“Then what’s wrong with me?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “That’s why we want to test your stool.”

I asked her to fax the orders to the lab.

Then I agonized about what to do. With my bathroom and contamination issues, I knew it would be a nightmare.

And there was the logistics matter. I had to get the sample to the lab within the hour of producing it. The lab was a good 45 minutes away.

I just wanted to forget all about it.

But I went to the doctor in the first place to get help. If I wanted help, I needed to follow through. Was I going to let OCD stop me?

I decided very quickly that I had to do it. I wouldn’t think about it anymore. I finished up some work and then went home.

It was not easy. I pretty much freaked out at one point. I wanted to clean the bathroom from top to bottom. I wanted to take a shower.

I didn’t have time, though. I had to get the sample to the lab, or—horrors—I’d have to do it again.

I made it out of the house after washing my hands only twice. I was feeling anxiety at a scale of about 9 all the way to the lab.

I kept glancing at my car clock, calculating how much time I had left. I worried about possible detours, or doing something that would cause a state trooper to pull me over. That would delay me. Then I figured I would just wave the biohazard bag at him, and he’d let me go.

I finally arrived at the lab, in time, and hurried inside, eager to get rid of that bag.

Ah, but there was a problem.

The woman at the front desk looked through the paperwork and said they hadn’t received the orders. Then she didn’t say anything.

I internally freaked out again, thinking I’d have to do all of this again and come back.

“Can I still leave it?”

“Yes,” she said. “But make sure your name and date of birth are on the cup.”

“It is,” I said, pointing to the label on top.

“It has to be on the side of the cup,” she said, and handed me a marker.

So I had to take the cup out of the biohazard bag and write the required information on the side of the cup.

I doubt if the outside of the cup was contaminated, but I did not want to touch it again.

I followed her instructions and then used the hand sanitizer at the door to the lab. I hoped that since it was in a lab, it would be extra sanitizing.

I thought later that I should have just asked where the bathroom was so I could wash my hands there. Anxiety makes you forget vital things.

Back in my car, I could feel my anxiety going down. I had done it. The worst was over. I didn’t have to do anything else but wait for the results.

I’m very tired, but I’m glad I did it.

Starting to believe in new possibilities

This has been a weekend where things I’ve experienced and things I’ve read have given me new hope and a new sense of positive possibilities.

As I wrote about in my last post, my therapist gave me my first cognitive behavioral therapy assignment on Friday. It was to sit down at my computer at 8 a.m. yesterday and write for a cumulative 30 minutes. I was not allowed to edit or check my writing.

I did it. I sat down at 8 and started writing. A lot of it was freewriting, where I just typed without thinking. Out of that grew some ideas for my memoir, things that I will explore more in the future.

I took two minutes to operate my coffee machine and make myself a cup of tea, so I actually stopped writing at 8:32.

It was strange sitting down to write with no real preparation or rituals. I literally got out of bed a little before 8, went to the bathroom, started the coffee machine, started up the computer, and started writing.

It was hard not to stop and make corrections or read over what I had written. Usually I stop frequently and read over what I’ve written so far, making changes as I go along.

This exercise was supposed to push through the avoidance that I bring to my writing.

I rated my anxiety at a 6 or 7 during the exercise. Some of it was related to the non-editing; some of it seemed more generalized.

I rated my anxiety at a 7 when I was done. After that, for the next two hours, it was not more than a 3 or 4.

It wasn’t so hard, so I’m thinking that maybe it wasn’t hard enough. But I sure did feel good after it was over. Part of that came from the fact that I got myself out of bed to do it. And I realized that I could keep on doing it when I wanted and deal with the anxiety as it came.

I plan to set a schedule for doing my own writing. I know sometimes those of us with OCD get wrapped up in schedules so much that we tend to ritualize it too much. But I believe I need the self-discipline. And I am starting to believe what my therapist told me on Friday: motivation comes after action, not before it.

I read a lot yesterday and today. I almost finished “Brain Lock” today, and the chapters on revaluing, on the four steps and freedom and on OCD and family really hit home with me.

I gained a new understanding about the freedom to move forward that treatment can bring me as I get better. I began to think about how I can begin to accomplish so much more and be a person who reaches out and helps others more rather than one who sometimes hides from connections and responsibilities.

I’ll explore these thoughts in future posts.

And one more thing happened this weekend that gave me hope.

Let me preface this by saying that I’m not trying to toot my own horn. I want to share how I was given a whole new perspective on my work.

A while back, I wrote a post about my job and how I feared it wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing. I have been feeling bored and at loose ends on the job, and I hate feeling like that. I need to feel that I’m making a positive difference.

On Friday, I received an email from one of the officials that I often turn to as a source for my stories covering county government. It was a surprise, because this official is not a “touchy-feely” kind of person.

He told me he thought I did an excellent job on an article I wrote about the county’s budget concerns for this week’s paper. He wrote that I had “the ability to report very complex issues in an understandable manner.” And he noted “the community service that you provide.”

I almost wept when I read it. Maybe I am doing what I’m supposed to be doing by continuing to work for the newspaper. Maybe I am providing a service. Maybe my work has meaning. Maybe all of my writing can have meaning and help others.

The possibilities, I think, are endless.