Book review: Overcoming OCD: A Journey to Recovery. By Janet Singer with Seth J. Gillihan.

Today I have the pleasure of reviewing a book written by a woman who I met through blogging and who has inspired me with her advocacy for educating others about OCD.

The book is Overcoming OCD: A Journey to Recovery, by Janet Singer with Seth J. Gillihan.

Janet writes a blog called ocdtalk, where she discusses her experiences as a parent of a son with OCD and their journey to find help. She also keeps readers updated on research being done on OCD. And she is an advocate for Exposure and Response Prevention therapy, the leading therapy for OCD.

In her book, Janet writes about Dan’s journey from being unable to eat, from lying on the floor for days at a time, caught in the snares of OCD, to reaching a diagnosis of “mild” OCD and being able to have a fulfilling life.

Dr. Seth J. Gillihan is an expert in treating patients with OCD and other anxiety disorders. In addition to having a clinical practice, he is a clinical assistant professor of psychology in the Psychiatry Department of the University of Pennsylvania and a visiting assistant professor of psychology at Haverford College.

Gillihan gives readers the “facts” about OCD: what it is, what the symptoms are, what treatments are available, what problems people seeking treatment might face, and more.

The abiding theme of Overcoming OCD is hope. But Janet isn’t feeling much hope when her story begins. Her son Dan has struggled during his first year of college, and Janet visits him to try to help.

She is shocked by his haggard appearance and his obvious anxiety. And she is shocked when they reach the motel where she is staying, and he is unable to climb the concrete steps up to the second floor.

Step by step, slowly, she helps him up the steps. Then he says he’s unable to come into the motel room. She pulls him into the room.

“And so our journey began,” she writes (p. 2).

Janet knew her son had OCD, but she had never seen it manifested in such debilitating ways. Dan couldn’t eat, couldn’t use his cell phone, couldn’t drive, and couldn’t go to certain places. His promising future in animation—a dream that he had had for years—seemed in jeopardy.

Janet and her husband Gary and the rest of their family rallied around Dan and supported him on his road to recovery, which was never linear and never easy.

Dan spent about nine weeks in a residential OCD treatment center, and Janet and her husband struggled with staff who seemed to be leading Dan to a life of lower expectations. The treatment center did give Dan a good foundation in ERP therapy, providing him with tools to fight his OCD.

The family moved to Dan’s college town so that they could be there to support him. He saw a number of doctors and was on a number of medications. Side effects of some of those medications put Dan into a medical crisis and delayed his recovery.

Janet learned to speak up and ask questions of Dan’s caregivers. She did her own research. She interviewed perspective doctors to find the right fit for Dan. She supported Dan in the tenuous dance of being independent but getting the help he needed to fight the OCD.

And she and Gary remained Dan’s cheerleaders and advocates, supporting him unconditionally without enabling him in his OCD.

I read Janet’s blog, so I know that Dan is now doing great, with mild OCD. He graduated from college and has a job that he once dreamed of.

But as I read her book, I felt a taste of the anxiety that Janet and her husband felt as they watched their son sink so low that they never thought he’d come back. I felt the anger at the lack of caring and lack of knowledge that some so-called experts displayed in treating Dan.

I also wanted to reach into the book and tell Dan, It’s going to be OK. I guess that comes from my own experiences with having OCD and having to fight my way to better health.

Janet’s story makes it clear that ERP therapy, sometimes with, sometimes without medication and other therapy, can help those with OCD become more than their OCD. They can live fulfilling lives despite having OCD.

But she shows that one must search for and sometimes fight for good mental health care. Her story makes it clear that there’s still so much education needed of even medical professionals about how to best diagnose and treat OCD.

Gillihan’s explanations are very helpful, especially for those not familiar with OCD.

I really didn’t want to put this book down after I started it. It’s inspirational, absorbing, and just a plain good story.

Parents with children who have OCD would particularly benefit and would be reminded that they are not alone in their journey. The beneficial role that family support can play is well illustrated.

I would also highly recommend this book to anyone who wants to know more about OCD and to those with OCD. I found myself relating to so much of what Dan experienced.

Throughout the journey that Janet and her family took with Dan, family friend and clinical psychologist Mark was a godsend, a person who offered information and hope to the family. In her book, Janet writes, “If you are going to have a mental health crisis in your family, I recommend having a close friend who is an amazing clinical psychologist” (p. 25).

I would add that having a family like Dan’s would help those suffering through a mental health crisis see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Overcoming OCD: A Journey to Recovery is published by Rowman & Littlefield. 2015. For information about ordering the book, go HERE.

Feeling strong physically and mentally

Last week, I “graduated” from physical therapy I was having for a pinched nerve in my neck. I didn’t receive a diploma, but I received a cool T-shirt that says “Physical Therapy Brings Motion to Life” and a sheaf of papers showing me the different exercises I need to continue to do on my own.

More important than any diploma is the strength that I found in physical therapy.

Darius, Katie, and Kyle made up my  PT team.

Different people in my family and in Larry’s family have, over the years, given physical therapy a bad name. In my opinion, they haven’t seemed to take it seriously and have seemed to view it as something to get through—to go through the motions—before what was really desired could happen: surgery.

I was determined that I was not going to have that attitude.

Surgery is sometimes needed. It’s sometimes the best option. But if other, less invasive, options are possibly in the end just as effective, why not try them and give them our best shot?

My orthopedic doctor was very clear with me about my options and even wrote out a list: medication, physical therapy, epidurals, surgery. He circled medication and physical therapy and said we would start with those.

I pointed to the word surgery on the paper and told him I had no plans for that.

“Work hard in therapy, OK?” he said.

And I did. I have done the stretching exercises at home and the movement exercises at PT, lifting weights, pulling on resistance bands, lying on my stomach while I lifted my affected arm over and over.

And I received so much encouragement from the staff at the rehab center. They had such positive attitudes. They challenged me physically and celebrated with me as I became stronger.

And I saw how they treated other patients. Sometimes I could see pain in the faces of people as they struggled to get better. The therapists and assistants were partners in that journey.

At the end of each PT session, I used the cervical traction machine. It was in a room off the main area where most of the therapy was done.

As I lay on the table and had my head pulled away from my neck (sounds painful, but it actually felt good), I could hear sounds from the main room. I heard therapists and assistants asking other patients how they were, expressing sympathy, setting out plans, counting out exercises, encouraging them.

What a positive place to be, I thought.

I still have pain. It got worse after I stopped taking prescription NSAIDS. But it’s not as bad as it was. And my muscles in and around my shoulders and neck are getting stronger. I know more about how my posture affects how I feel.

I had a talk with the main physical therapist on my last day, and we discussed future options. He assured me that I could get better.

That helped strengthen my belief that I have a lot of control in my recovery. There is a lot I can do to get better. And isn’t that true with anything in life, physical, mental, and emotional? We don’t have control over everything, but we can do our best with what we do have control over.

Now I’m going to work on my strength at the Altavista YMCA, where Larry and I are members. My plan is to go over today after I finish at the newspaper office and sort out which machines will work the right muscles. I also have elastic bands to work with at home.

And I am going to get even stronger.

In what ways are you trying to get stronger?

Opportunities to help

I’ve been heartened by the attention given OCD on social media this week, OCD Awareness Week.

In my reading this week, I found Janet Singer’s blog post, “I’m a Little OCD,” on ocdtalk, particularly thought provoking.

Janet is preparing for the publication of her book, Overcoming OCD: A Journey of Recovery, which she wrote with Seth Gillihan. Janet’s son has OCD, and she learned about the disorder and treatments—good and bad—while helping her son.

Janet’s post this week addresses the situation that probably many of us with OCD have encountered. The subject of having OCD comes up, and someone says, “Oh, I’m a little OCD.” Or “I’m so OCD.”

If you have OCD, or a family member or friend with OCD, statements like that might frustrate you. They seem to trivialize a serious disorder. Just because you like to put all your Virginia Tech clothing in one drawer doesn’t mean you necessarily have OCD.

Janet came up with a great way to respond to such statements as she spreads the word about her work:

“So my response has been something like, “’OCD is such a misunderstood and misrepresented illness, which is one of the reasons why I believe this book is so important. I hope you’re getting the right help if you do have OCD.’”

I like the fact that the response is respectful and leaves open the opportunity for education and help if the person is really in need.

I used to get upset when I heard people seem to discount OCD as a little problem. And I do think there are misconceptions about the seriousness of the disorder and how it can disrupt lives.

But for all I know, the people saying, “I’m so OCD” might be worried that they have a problem. They might have untreated OCD. They might be worried about someone else. They might be looking for help. They might be able to pass along helpful information to family members.

So ….. I’m going to consider those “I’m so OCD” moments as opportunities to help. I hope I remember in the moment to give a response like Janet has been giving while she’s spreading the word about her book.

Because people can ask for help in a lot of different ways.

What I would tell my younger self: Things will get better

This week, Oct. 13-19, is International OCD Awareness Week.

One of the reasons I started this blog was to raise awareness about what OCD is and how it can be treated.

Another reason I started this blog was to connect with others and remind them that they aren’t alone. And things will get better.

That things will get better—that OCD does not have to control you—is difficult to believe when you are in the midst of the seemingly endless cycle of obsession, compulsion, obsession, compulsion.

But it would have helped me, when I was a young woman struggling with a disorder I didn’t fully understand, if someone had told me that things would not always be so bad, that help was available, and that knowledge about and treatment of OCD would get better as time went by.

My younger self.

So I decided to write a letter to younger self and tell myself those things. Writing a letter to your younger, or older, self is not a new thing. But I’ve never done it, and I wanted to use this as a way to help my own healing and, more importantly, tell all of you out there who are struggling that it won’t always be so bad.

Dear me at age 25,

I see you slamming your hands against the wall in your kitchen. I hear you begging God to help you. I feel your tears. I know you want to scream. And I can read your thoughts—you think it’s always going to be this bad.

The stove there seems like an enemy, doesn’t it? Even when you don’t use it, you’re afraid that you left it turned on, or that you accidently turned it on when you were cleaning it.

And if you leave it on, then a fire could start, and it could spread to other apartments, and people could get killed, and it would be all your fault.

Two hours ago, you thought it was OK. But then you started thinking that it wasn’t. You couldn’t relax. So you decided to check it just once, and then you’d feel OK. You promised God it would be just once.

It’s never just once. You really do believe that it’s going to be just one more time, one more check. But it never is. That’s the nature of OCD.

Rest for a while. I know you don’t believe you have the right to relax until all your responsibilities are taken care of. But just take a few minutes. Just lie down and rest for a while.

You already know you have obsessive-compulsive disorder. You wouldn’t dare tell a doctor about it, but you read a lot, and you know.

But you don’t truly believe that anyone else feels the same way you do. How can anyone possibly think the same things as you? It’s so bizarre, isn’t it?

Like you used to be able to walk to campus without a problem. Now you notice sticks on the ground. You wonder if they’re actually nails. You have to check and make sure they’re not nails. Because someone might step on one and get hurt, and it would be your fault.

How can anyone else think something so weird?

I want you to know that you are not alone. There are many people around the world who have the same sorts of thoughts you do. They try to do things like clean and check so they won’t feel so bad. They feel desperate like you.

You are part of a large group of people around the world who are struggling with OCD. Someday you’re going to meet some in person. Someday you’re going to connect with a lot of them on the computer.

And your friends who don’t have OCD are going to understand and be supportive when you tell them about your struggles.

For now, just remind yourself that you are not alone.

I also want you to know that there are treatments for OCD. You are going to see a doctor soon who will diagnose you with OCD and begin to treat you. You are going to get better.

And the treatments are going to get better as you get older. You’re going to read some helpful books. You’re going to learn about cognitive behavior therapy. You’re going to learn more about how your thoughts work.

But don’t wait until then to feel good about yourself. Remind yourself of what you’ve been able to do: work, go to school, and be with friends. You may have a hard time doing all this, but you are already accomplishing things. Don’t think you have to be 100 percent cured to start living.

And please, give yourself a break. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing the best you can.

Remember: you are not alone, and things are going to get better.

Just rest for a while.

With love,

Your older self

***

I was asked to share the following information, and I am glad to.

OCD Connecticut is holding a free conference called “Living with OCD” on Saturday, October 18th, 2014.

It will be held at the Yale Child Study Center in New Haven, CT from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. Topics will include the diagnosis and best practice treatments for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and there will be breakout support groups sessions for adults, teens, and family members.

For more information and to register for the program, please visit www.ocdct.org.

***

If you wrote a letter to your younger self, what would you say?

Let’s be aware

This week (Oct. 5-11) is Mental Illness Awareness Week, a week dedicated to raising awareness and educating people about mental illness.

There is so much more awareness about mental illness now than when I was younger. I remember being told as a child that certain people were in the hospital because they “had a nervous breakdown.” And it was usually said in a whisper.

I had no real idea of what a nervous breakdown was. But it sounded bad, like a loss of control, like something to pity. It definitely sounded like something that should be kept a secret.

In reality, it was a secret kept by people who thought having a mental illness was something to be ashamed of.

When I was first diagnosed with OCD and depression in my mid-20s, I was ashamed. I thought if others found out, they would think I was deficient, weak. So I told only a very few close friends and family. Even with them, I brushed it off as just a little problem that I was taking care of with medicine.

The secretive way I handled my mental illness kept me from getting the full help that I needed.

For example, I didn’t want to get into a lot of therapy, including cognitive behavior therapy, because I’d have to ask off from work. How could I ask off for a doctor’s appointment if I didn’t look physically ill? I wouldn’t lie about it, but I couldn’t be honest either.

Several concerns kept me from getting the treatment that I needed when I was younger, but my fear of being stigmatized was part of it.

Nowadays, people talk about mental illnesses much more openly. Advocacy and education are still necessary—there are a lot of misconceptions out there, a lot of blaming—but the atmosphere for discussion has improved.

With discussion, stigma can lessen. We can ask each other questions and listen to each other’s stories. We can learn that we’re not the only one feeling certain feelings and thinking certain thoughts.

We can learn that we’re not alone.

Being aware is a big deal for me. So I’m happy to lend my voice to awareness of mental illness this week and beyond.

For more information about mental illness, check out the website of the National Alliance on Mental Illness.

Oct. 9 is also National Depression Screening Day. If you even think you’re depressed, please get screened and get help. And pass the word to your friends.

Let’s all be aware.

Working on it

Changing leaves from a past autumn.

Happy autumn to you, dear readers! It’s one of my favorite times of the year. Perhaps it’s a relic of spending years in school, but the beginning of fall seems like a new beginning to me.

I have been working on getting better since I posted HERE about feeling stuck and full of anguish.

I saw my psychiatrist, and he was concerned about my lack of energy and motivation, my lack of desire to do anything but sleep. We made an adjustment in my medication. It’s one we’ve made before.

It’s too early to experience the full effects of the change, but I have felt more like making plans and setting goals. I am having an easier time starting the day. I am feeling better.

My psychiatrist also thinks it would be a good idea for me to get into talk therapy again to deal with my anger and confusion about my mother. I agreed. I do want to talk with someone nonbiased who can help me find my way through the confusion.

I’m going to see the same psychologist I saw the last time I was in talk therapy. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have an opening until mid-November. I’m on the list to call if he has cancellations, and they did call about an appointment. But it was for a Monday, which are busy days at the newspaper. So, I’ll wait until November if that’s what I have to do.

The idea of taking care of myself, of loving myself, is something I’m still getting used to. It’s not what I was taught to do as I was growing up, and I’ve held on to the belief that thinking of oneself is selfish.

But the time for change is here.

I’m learning more about taking care of myself when I am anxious, angry about the past, or feeling lost.

For example, last week, a particular news story was bothering me. It brought back a lot of bad memories, and I felt tense with anger.

I sat down and wrote down a description of how I felt. I probably frightened the keys on my computer by how hard I was pounding them. But I felt better—relieved, calm—after I finished.

Writing can definitely be therapeutic.

So can knitting. Here is my first knitted scarf:

I love the motions my hands make as they work the needles. I like the way the yarn feels. I like the rhythm. I like having a finished product. I feel soothed.

So that’s where I am right now. Still putting one foot in front of the other, as we all have to do.

Take care of yourselves, love yourselves. And I will see you on Thursday.

Protective factors and making it through life

My view from the front steps of my office building on a recent evening.

Do you ever wonder how you got from your childhood to where you are now in one piece?

I get emails from people who have found my blog and want to know more about how I deal with OCD and/or depression and anxiety.

I am not a medical expert or a therapist. I am a person who has mental illnesses. I try to share my experiences with different treatments and different ways that I have dealt with OCD, depression, and anxiety.

It still surprises me, though, that I seem like someone who has reached a place where I can be of help to anyone else. Like someone who has a good life in spite of having mental illnesses and setbacks along the way.

Believe me, I have not overcome all the obstacles that mental illnesses cause. I’m still trying to figure out who I am.

But I have managed to build a good life.

What helped me do that?

Despite some difficult times during my childhood and teen years, I had the benefit of protective factors.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) defines protective factors this way:

“Protective factors are individual or environmental characteristics, conditions, or behaviors that reduce the effects of stressful life events. These factors also increase an individual’s ability to avoid risks or hazards, and promote social and emotional competence to thrive in all aspects of life, now and in the future.” 

The CDC lists the protective factors of school connectedness, parent engagement in schools, and positive parenting practices. There are more, of course.

Recently, I’ve written about two parts of my life that I define as protective factors for me. I had people in my life—whether related to me by blood or not—who helped to nurture me and encourage me as a young person.

And I had books that taught me and inspired me.

Knowledge about protective factors comforts me.

As a young person, I had help in several forms that led me to eventually get treatment, begin thinking in different and healthier ways, and start living the life that I wanted to live.

All of that help didn’t have to come from the ones we think must provide it, our parents.

We all have protective factors that help counteract the bad times in life. We can celebrate and nurture those factors.

I wasn’t alone as a child. I’m not alone now.

And neither are you.

So how did I make it from childhood to where I am now in one piece? With a lot of help along the way.

What are some of the protective factors in your life?

The importance of getting treatment for mental illness

Sometimes I get emails from readers of my blog, asking me for advice on how to deal with OCD, other anxiety, or depression.

I am always happy to tell them what works for me. I am not a medical professional, but I do have personal experience with mental illness and treatments. So I try to share.

One thing that I’ve noticed is that not everyone is in treatment or even thinking about treatment.

I’m not going to make a blanket statement and say if you have a mental illness, you need to be in a certain kind of treatment.

But I will say this:

If you are having a difficult time coping with daily life, if life seems dark and just gets darker by the day, if you have intrusive thoughts, if you are abusing substances such as alcohol, if the ways you usually cope with the bad times aren’t working, then I believe you need the help of professionals.

For more information about when to seek help, check HERE and HERE.

When I first got therapy, I didn’t have health insurance. This was back in 1988, and I was a graduate student in Ohio.

With the encouragement of a friend, I contacted student mental health services at my university and started seeing a psychologist on staff. It was the first step in understanding the pain I had been in for years. It was the first step in a very long journey to a new way of being.

I was able to see this psychologist free of charge because I was a student at the university.

Eventually, she told me she thought I needed the help of a psychiatrist for my continuing depression and for the OCD symptoms that I finally revealed to her. She referred me to a doctor in a nearby town.

I paid out of pocket to see the psychiatrist, who gave me my “official” diagnoses of depression and OCD in January 1990. I was 26 years old.

I started taking medication while continuing my talk therapy with the psychologist.

I slowly began to see light at the end of the tunnel.

I moved back to Virginia in July 1990, and it wasn’t easy to get the mental health help I needed. I wouldn’t have health insurance for three more years.

But I worked with what Virginia has, a community system of mental health professionals which I could access on a sliding scale. In other words, they looked at my income and billed me according to what I could afford.

It’s not a perfect system. Not all mental health professionals are created equal. But I got some individual help and even took part in some group therapy.

I went for long periods of time without active therapy. I stayed on my medications and had good times and bad times.

I read Dr. Jeffrey Schwartz’s book Brain Lock back in the 1990s, and that helped me a lot with OCD. I began to learn more about meditation. I read a lot about mental health. I began to understand how spirituality didn’t have to be a hindrance or a burden, but could actually help. I began to understand how my relationships with family members and others hurt me rather than helped me.

Eventually, five years ago, I decided that I needed therapy again, and my family doctor recommended my current psychiatrist to me. He encouraged me to get some help from a psychologist on staff, which I did.

I delved deeper into studying and writing about OCD, and I learned a lot about how the disorder was affecting my life.

My mental health has probably improved more in the past five years than in all the years since I saw my first therapist in 1988.

I know the health care system in the United States is not always kind to those who need mental health services. I am blessed to have insurance that covers such care.

I encourage anyone who is having a difficult time mentally to reach out for help. To find referrals to mental health professionals, you might want to start with your medical doctor, a social worker, a teacher, or a minister or rabbi or other spiritual leader.

Make sure he or she is someone you trust and who understands the needs of those with mental illness. Walk away if they don’t take you seriously or try to minimize your problems.

Look on the Internet for help. For example, on the website of the International OCD Foundation, you can find a lot of information about OCD as well as a database of therapists who can help those with OCD.

Other online resources for finding treatment providers include Mental Health America and National Alliance on Mental Illness.

The right treatment can put you back on track. It can enable you to live the life you want to live.

That’s what it did for me.

Note: Where have my photos gone? I haven't been taking many photos lately, but I am working to change that and will have photos with my posts again!

OCD victory: My hands in dirt

 

 

This spring I’ve written about the joy that I’ve gotten from my foray into vegetable gardening.

My joy goes beyond my pleasure in watching things grow and the solace it brings my soul to dig in the dirt and interact with nature.

My gardening is also a sign of a victory over OCD.

 One of the ways my OCD has manifested itself is through contamination fears. Basically, I feared germs because of the possibility of spreading them to others and making them ill.

One of the ways I dealt with my obsessions over germs was to wash my hands compulsively. I’ve written about how red and raw my hands and wrists became because I washed them over and over in hot water and soap.

Another way I dealt with my fears over germs was to avoid situations and activities where I was sure to get my hands dirty. Like putting my hands in dirt, on purpose.

 
  Over the years, I have experienced many victories over contamination fears. When I first started treatment for OCD and depression, I was able to start having houseplants. And I’ve had flower gardens sporadically through the years.

 But this is my first full gardening experience.

It feels good to know that OCD is not stopping me from doing something that I enjoy.

The journey to overcome my contamination obsessions and compulsions has not been short or easy. I’ve taken medication that has side effects and costs money that I would love spend elsewhere. I’ve taken therapy. I’ve read books and put new ways of thinking and reacting into practice.

 I’m not saying that I am no longer affected by my OCD. Each day brings its challenges, some big, some small. But I can more easily deal with the challenges, more easily turn back to what I was doing before the OCD interfered.

 If you have OCD, I encourage you to get treatment, to do the things—and it will probably be a variety of things—that will enable you to overcome the stifling effects of OCD.

 And for all of us who struggle with issues—maybe issues that no one knows about—let’s hold hope and do the work that we need to do to remember the joy that can be a part of any life.

 It’s been worth every penny and every struggle to stand in front of my garden and look at those lovely little plants beginning their own journey.

 What are you now enjoying in life that once seemed out of reach?

Awareness: I have mental illnesses. I have a good life.

I had a good weekend. I spent time with Larry and my kitties. I read one great book and started another. I did some chores around the house. I took some photos. I did some organizing and planning on paper. I napped. I relaxed.

Yes, a good weekend.

I’m grateful for good times like this, for each new day that brings opportunities to be productive and enjoy those I love.

And I’m grateful that I can still enjoy the things in life that so many of you enjoy despite having mental illnesses.

This week (October 6-12) is Mental Illness Awareness Week, promoted by the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI).

I want to take this opportunity to speak out in support of others dealing with mental illness, whether they have a condition themselves or have family or friends with mental illness.

According to the NAMI website, every year about one in four American adults has a mental illness.

On its website, NAMI defines a mental illness as “a medical condition that disrupts a person's thinking, feeling, mood, ability to relate to others and daily functioning. Just as diabetes is a disorder of the pancreas, mental illnesses are medical conditions that often result in a diminished capacity for coping with the ordinary demands of life.”

But it’s not the end of the world if you have a mental illness.

I recognize that there is a lot of stigma about mental illness. When I’ve told people that I have a mental illness, I haven’t always been met with understanding. I can sometimes see the unease in other people’s reactions. We as a society are not comfortable talking about mental illness.

I have depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder, commonly known as OCD. My psychiatrist has also diagnosed me with generalized anxiety disorder and panic disorder.

I used to think all those diagnoses made me a mess.

But I’m not a mess. I’m a woman who struggles sometimes—if you’ve been reading my blog, you know that.

But I also live a good life. I have a husband I adore; I have pets; I have a job I enjoy; I take opportunities to write, something I consider to be part of my purpose; I take photographs; I have good weekends and good weekdays.

Treatment has allowed me to bloom in many ways.

Just as I have been helped by treatment for mental illness, so can anyone with one of these disorders. Everyone responds differently, but I firmly believe that anyone can improve with the right treatment.

It’s not always easy. I have had to make adjustments in my life to allow for the anxiety and depression that sometimes interfere with my daily activities. I have to be mindful to take my medication, see my doctor, and do the other things I do for my mental health.

But life isn’t always easy for you either, is it? We all have obstacles, burdens, troubles. Some of mine happen to include mental illness.

I encourage you to learn more about mental illness by visiting the NAMI website. And remember to be thankful for the good days.

Have you ever witnessed stigma associated with mental illness?

My OCD is better

Step by step

Today I told someone that my OCD seems better.

Until then, I had kept the hope to myself.

But I’ll say it a bit stronger here: my OCD is better.

OCD is tricky. It can wax and wane.

During especially stressful times, it can grow stronger, leading to more obsessive thoughts, less ability to control the compulsions.

Other times, it grows stronger for no clear reason.

Then the symptoms ebb away, interfering less with the rest of my life.

There is nothing that I can point to as the reason for the current improvement. I think it’s probably a combination of things:

*Good medication

*A focus on preventing myself from following through on the desire to do a compulsion as I work on Exposure and Response Prevention on my own

*Good therapy earlier this year and last year

*A dedication to being mindful

*A growing realization that worrying doesn’t do me or anyone else any good

This time the improvement feels like a step up. I’ve improved in the past, but I wasn’t so aware of working on my OCD and keeping it at bay as much as possible. 

I’m more deliberate about it now.

It's not that I don't still have obsessions and do compulsions. But the symptoms are bothering me less and less. I'm better than I've been in a long time.

I’m very grateful. No need to analyze that too much, is there?

I’m not an expert on OCD. I’m just someone who has had the disorder since I was a child. I realize that OCD can seem very weird, and there are some misconceptions about it. Is there anything about OCD that you’d like to ask me?

OCD and a sense of guilt

My father, Christmas Eve 1996.

He couldn’t speak anymore, but he could mouth words enough to be understood.

“Worried,” he said.

I stood by his bedside, looking down into his face. He stared back up at me.

“What are you worried about?” I asked.

“No food in . . . “ and he held up the fingers and thumb on one hand and one finger on the other hand to signify six. “. . . weeks.”

My father had gone into the hospital in May 1997, through the emergency room. He had uncontrollable vomiting. Nothing would stay down.

Tests showed that a flap in his stomach that was supposed to close after eating was remaining open. The food wasn’t processing through his intestines. It was coming back up.

The doctors thought it was likely caused by continued damage by strokes.

Some medication had worked for a short time in helping him keep food down. But eventually, it didn’t work. To get him some nourishment, the doctors had surgically inserted a feeding tube that bypassed his stomach.

He was in a nursing home because the level of care he needed just couldn’t be given to him at home.

But now in late June, he was back in the hospital because he was dehydrated. And he was looking to me for answers.

He never took his eyes off my face.

“Yes, it has been a long time. But we’re hoping that this feeding tube is temporary,” I said. “We’re hoping that you’ll be able to eat again, and you’ll be able to go home.”

I can hear my voice now, 16 years later. Cheery. Bright. Hopeful.

And I did have hope. I wasn’t trying to pass along false hope.

Daddy nodded his head and didn’t say anything else about it.

Back at the nursing home, his health continued to deteriorate.

He died on July 9, 1997.

I struggled with that conversation in the hospital for years.

Plain old-fashioned guilt would have carried me along just fine. But my OCD made it worse.

I obsessed over my words to him. What could I have said differently? How could I have said it differently? What could I have done differently? Had I not done enough?

After almost a lifetime of OCD compulsions to try to protect my family, had I ultimately failed and let my father die?

OCD wants you to feel guilty. It wants you to question yourself about things over which you have no control, over things about which there is no certainty.

It had an easy target in me.

But I outwitted OCD. I was already on medication to help it, but I did more. I learned much more about OCD than I ever thought there was to know, and I learned ways to work with it, to work around it. I followed self-help guidelines. I got therapy that targeted OCD.

I know now that I did the best I could. I shared with Daddy the hope I had. He was a smart man. He knew what was happening to his body. He wasn’t looking for me to give him a definitive answer. He wanted to talk with me and share his concerns.

And he wouldn’t want me to feel guilty.

OCD and getting help when help is needed

Yes, the nurse had noticed my hands. And she had told the doctor about them.

That scared me. I didn’t want the doctor to mention my hands. I didn’t want to tell him about my hand washing.

Janet at ocdtalk wrote a wonderful post this week about “OCD and Early Treatment Experiences.” In her post, Janet writes about the troubles many people with OCD have when seeking help for the first time.

Her post resonated with me and brought back some memories of my own early attempts to get help for my OCD.

I suffered from obsessions and compulsions for years before I ever got treatment. My first symptoms appeared when I was a girl. When I was a teenager, I read a magazine article about OCD and recognized myself in it. But I remained silent. I told no one about my strange thoughts and compulsive habits.

Of course, my parents noticed some of my compulsive habits, especially the copious amounts of water I ran whenever I washed my hands. But they didn’t seem to connect the actions with anything other than me being wasteful and a problem.

Apparently the only thing my mother told my pediatrician was that I was crying a lot and tired, as I wrote about in a post about being a child with OCD and depression.

That’s behind me now. Perhaps my mother had no vocabulary to use to explain her daughter’s strange actions. Perhaps she was just afraid of what was going on with me.

Once I became an adult, I was no better an advocate for myself. And that brings me to a memory that came to me when I read the ocdtalk post.

When I was in my early twenties, in graduate school, I visited Student Health. I didn’t have health insurance, and I could be seen at Student Health with my student ID for a low fee.

If I am remembering correctly, I was there because of my ears. They seemed to get blocked with wax a lot. Or so it seemed. I wanted the doctor to check them.

It wasn’t the first time I went to the doctor for my ears. I see now that picking at my ears was a compulsion of mine. I was obsessed over the possibility of them getting blocked and muffling my hearing. So I picked at them and then had them checked at the doctor’s office to make sure they weren’t blocked. It was OCD at work.

On this particular visit, the nurse had taken me into the exam room. I don’t remember, but she probably asked me the reason for my visit and went through the usual pre-exam routine.

I don’t remember how I happened to see her walk down the hall after she left the exam room. But I remember looking down the hallway and seeing her walking with the doctor. She was pointing to her hands and talking.

I immediately grasped (perhaps incorrectly, but I don’t think so) that she was telling the doctor about my hands.

My hands.

From about three inches above my wrists to my fingertips, my hands were red. They were chapped and dry and raw looking. Here and there were little spots of dried blood.

I knew what was wrong with my hands. I washed them compulsively, soaping them up repeatedly with each hand washing, running hot water over them.

I didn’t use hand lotion because that might contaminate them, I thought.

Yes, the nurse had noticed my hands. And she had told the doctor about them.

That scared me. I didn’t want the doctor to mention my hands. I didn’t want to tell him about my hand washing.

When the doctor came in, he didn’t say anything about my hands at first. He was kind and looked in my ears.

My memories were fuzzy about this for a while. I had to go back in time in my mind and picture what happened. I remembered that he did say something about my hands. He asked me about them.

I lied to him. I told him I forgot to use lotion and the cold and windy weather wreaked havoc on them.

I missed the opportunity to tell him about the extreme anxiety that drove me to wash my hands over and over.

And what would have happened if he had asked again after hearing my lie? What if he had suspected that hands that raw looking weren’t just chapped from the cold and wind?

I’ll never know, and that’s OK. I eventually did get help.

But what concerns me is the possibility that there are others with OCD who are too afraid to talk with their doctors, but who may have signs like my red hands that the doctors don’t address. It concerns me that parents may not know what to do about their children’s symptoms. It concerns me that people may tell their doctors about their OCD symptoms, but the doctors don’t know what to do with that information.

Because of my concerns, I will continue to do as Janet advocates in her post: educate others about OCD and encourage those with OCD and their families.

Do you have OCD or think you do? Are you a family member or friend of someone with OCD? One information source is the website of the International OCD Foundation. Their Find Help page offers multiple resources.

Why do you think it’s so hard to discuss certain things with our doctors?