What I want you to know about #RealOCD

It’s more than just wanting your closet to be color-coded. It’s more than keeping your things neat and in place. It’s more than insisting on keeping a clean house.

It’s a serious mental health disorder that disrupts your life, gets in the way of doing the things you want to do and need to do. It’s a serious disorder that can take those things above—the color coding, the neatness, the cleanliness—and make them into obsessions that can only be quieted by compulsions, repeated behaviors that make no sense from an outside perspective.

Real OCD can look like this: Thoughts tell you that if you don’t wash your hands perfectly, you will spread germs and someone will die. So you carefully wash your hands with soap and water, again and again and again, until you get a satisfied feeling and can stop. But two hours and gallons of water have passed, and the satisfied feeling is temporary. Soon, you again think your hands are dirty and you are going to kill someone with the germs. And it’s back to the sink.

Real OCD can also look like this: You cooked pasta for dinner. You turned the stove off. Or you think you did. You don’t remember doing it. Or you remember doing it, but not doing it the “right” way. You can’t stop thinking about it. If you didn’t turn off the stove, then it could stay hot. Maybe it would even cause a fire. Your apartment building would burn down and people would die and it would be your fault. So you check the stove to make sure it’s off. You stare at the stove. You turn the knob on and off, on and off, on and off, on and off. Finally, you hear the “click” that lets you feel satisfied that the stove is truly off. But three hours have gone by, and your anxiety is making you cry in frustration.

Real OCD manifests in different ways. You may be obsessed with cleanliness, and others may be obsessed with counting. You doubt things other people never think about. You compulsively do things in an attempt to be sure that all is well. You know the obsessions and compulsions make no sense. But you can’t stop having the thoughts. You can’t stop doing the compulsions.

What I want you to know about OCD is that it’s a ball of anxiety that fills you with frustration and depression and hopelessness and fear. It’s a swirl of thoughts that won’t calm down, won’t let you rest for just a little while.

Most of all, what I want you know about OCD is that you are not alone with it. And there are treatments available that can help you live with the disorder. I got treatment, and it made a world of difference. Talk to your doctor or the website of the International OCD Foundation for more information.

Oct. 7 – 13 is OCD Awareness Week!

Goodbye for now

Dear readers,

I have thought about this for a long time and done a lot of journaling and plain soul-searching. I have come to the conclusion that at least for now, I’m discontinuing posts on this blog.

I started this blog in November 2011, and I’ve since made many friends in the mental health advocacy world and in the blogging world itself. I have learned so much more about myself and the disorder that I initially wrote about: OCD.

I treasure each one of you who have followed me along the way.

As you know, I haven’t written much this year. I felt like I had nothing to say. And I realized and finally admitted to myself that I wanted to follow another passion of mine, a passion that I was writing about more and more on this blog: my love of animals, especially cats.

I am starting a new blog called Following Cats, located at http://www.followingcats.com/. I published my first post today. If you are interested, please go over and see if it’s a blog you think you might like to keep up with.

I consider many of you friends, and I hope not to lose touch with you. I will be coming by your blogs.

Thank you for the years of support and encouragement you have given me. Thank you for helping me through many dark times. Thank you for connecting with me. You have been gifts to me.

With love and peace,

Tina

Back to blogging, back to my friends

Hello, friends! It has been many months since I’ve been in this space. A short time away turned into a longer period than I thought it would be. Many times I thought about starting back, but I have finally reached the point when the time seems “right.”

I have missed you and your comments. I have missed reading your blogs. I am looking forward to catching up as much as I can.

I have so much to tell you. I hardly know where to begin. The last six months have been busy, with happy parts, heartbreaking parts, and just-glad-to-be-here parts. I have stories about my animals, my new job, my new volunteer work, my health, and my life to share with you.

If I tried to tell it all in one post, it would be so long, I doubt you would be able to get through all of it awake.

So today I will leave you with this: I am still here. I am still living with OCD and depression. I am still forging ahead despite that. And I’m in a pretty good place.

I’ll be back on Wednesday.

A lesson I have to keep learning

Abbey on her stool under the window.

We got some upsetting news about Abbey this past week.

She was set to have her spay done on Tuesday. I dropped her off at the vet’s office on the way to work.

The vet called me that afternoon and told me that they were unable to take her blood for the pre-anesthesia blood work until they had sedated her. They had her prepped for surgery when they got her blood results back. They weren’t going spay her that day.

Both her white cell count and her red cell count were lower than normal.

Some background: The day after we adopted her, we took Abbey to the vet for a check-up. She tested negative for feline leukemia and FIV. We were given a kit to get a stool sample to check for worms.

We didn’t get the sample to the vet’s until the week before her surgery, and she tested positive for worms. So we picked up medicine and give it to her for the prescribed three days, to be repeated in three weeks and six weeks.

We had not seen any signs of worms, and we keep Abbey inside all the time. But we don’t know where she was before she went to the shelter, and she stayed in the shelter for four months.

I feel so bad for not getting the sample into the vet’s sooner.

When the vet called me about her blood work, she said she didn’t think it was time to worry (easier said than done!). Abbey appeared to be healthy. The vaccinations she received the day after adoption could have caused the numbers to go down, but usually that resolved after a couple of weeks. She said parasites and infection could also cause the low numbers.

So her advice was to give her another dewormer, a different medicine that covered more types of parasites. She also gave us a vitamin supplement with iron to give her. We’ll retest her blood in a month. If the numbers are still low, we’ll retest her for feline leukemia and FIV in case she got a false negative the first time.

Abbey seems to feel good. She plays hard. She gained point 4 pounds in the three weeks from her adoption to spay day. She has not shown any signs of illness. The vet said it was fine to have her out with Chase Bird as long as neither showed signs of illness.

I did what I usually do when I get worried about a health problem with my cats or Larry—I started Googling. I know it’s a way to cope, a way to feel like I have some control over the situation.

But really, other than giving Abbey her meds and watching her, I have no control over the situation. It’s a wait and see situation until we retest her blood.

I wonder sometimes why I have to keep learning this lesson that we never can know for sure that all is well, that life throws curves all the time. But I’m not having to learn the lesson any more than anyone else. We all have lives that throw us curves. I just happen to have a disorder—OCD—that make it particularly difficult to deal with uncertainty.

So we’ll deal with what it is, if it’s anything more than an infection of parasites. And we are enjoying Abbey so much. She is a sweetie and so funny. She likes to follow Chase Bird around. Sometimes he is OK with that, sometimes he runs away, and she chases after him.

I love Chase Bird and Abbey and taking care of them. I’m enjoying that every day.

Finally

A photo of Broad Street in Altavista. I think I took this on a Sunday a couple of years ago. I was standing at the library looking down the street. English Park is in the distance, as is the Staunton River. To get to Town Hall, where I'll be working, you would turn left at that first traffic light in the photo.

I can finally share some news with you.

On Jan. 6, I applied for a job with the town of Altavista. It’s a part-time position as an economic development assistant that includes coordinating the Main Street Program.

Last Wednesday, I finally got a formal offer.

I will coordinate a nonprofit group that carries out the concepts of the VirginiaMain Street Program. I will also assist the town’s economic developer in meeting the needs of existing businesses and helping to bring new businesses in. The economic developer wants me to work specifically with younger, creative entrepreneurs.

I’m excited and nervous. I am looking forward to a new challenge, learning new things, getting training, and being in a position to serve and encourage others.

I will work fewer hours and far more regular hours than my current job with the paper, but I will make significantly more in salary.

So why am I nervous? Change is unsettling to all of us, and it tends to raise my anxiety level. I also have the new-job-worries: Will I be able to learn? Will I do a good job?

I’ve always managed in the past, and when I remember that, I have more confidence in my ability to do another job.

Another worry has been that I’m leaving a job where I (finally) was able to write for a living.

What I found was that while my writing improved and I learned to write faster, I wasn’t always writing what I wanted to—that just wasn’t my job. And writing all day/all week took a certain kind of energy out of me.

I am not leaving my writing behind. I am a writer at heart. I hope to actually start writing more of what speaks to me and I’m passionate about. And the new job will afford me the opportunity to use some of my other skills.

My last day with the paper will be April 8 and my first day on the new job will be April 13. It will be a busy time at the paper, trying to finish things up and leave information behind that will help my co-workers.

I wish I could say my worrying of the last three months is over. But I complicated things by applying for another job while I was waiting to hear about the town job. I’ve had two interviews and am waiting to hear about it. So I may be faced with another decision soon.

To choose between two good job opportunities is not easy for me. In true OCD fashion, I tend to want to find the “perfect” answer, make the “right” choice. Of course, we never know at the time of making a decision whether or not it is the right choice. And there is no perfect answer.

For now, I’m going to enjoy what I do have: an upcoming new job and a new adventure.

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.

The worst thing ever . . . sometimes isn’t

Above and below, Chase Bird enjoying the sunshine on his fur on our enclosed back porch.
Winter temps return this week.

I’ve just about lost all hope for the new job. I am supposed to hear something “in short order,” but who knows when that will be or what I’ll be told?

Anyway, that’s not what I’ll write about today. Instead, I want to write about something that happened last week: one of my worst OCD fears came true.

I go through spells when I read and reread emails or comments that I write before hitting the “send” or “post” buttons. I fear that I will write something completely inappropriate or to the wrong person. So the way to keep that from happening is to check, repeatedly, compulsively.

What would be so bad about writing the wrong thing? I could hurt someone’s feelings. I could insult someone. I could make myself look bad to someone else. I could say something untrue. In my worst-case scenarios, I could suffer horrible embarrassment that would last forever, lose my job, lose a friend, be sued, or end up in jail (I know—sounds way out there, but that’s how OCD works).

So last week I received an email in my work email account from someone whose opinions and words I included in a news article. He wanted to clarify for me something that he had talked about. He didn’t ask me to change anything or do a clarification. I should note that he also complimented the article.

I wanted my editor Mark’s opinion on this, so I forwarded the email to him, told him what I had in my notes, and asked if I should respond in any way.

Did I say I forwarded the email to Mark? Oh, no. I replied to the email that the original man sent me. With the message to Mark.

When I realized what I’d done, which was almost immediately after I hit “send,” I said, “Darn!” The word I said wasn’t really darn, but it had four letters. My co-worker Amy started laughing, saying, “Something must really be wrong if you said that, Tina.”

My other co-worker Matt and I tried to figure out a way to retrieve my email, but it basically can’t be done with the mail servers we have.

I was beside myself. I thought I would never be able to face this person again. While I hadn’t said anything critical of him in my email, it was still worded for my editor, not for the person in question. I was afraid he would call. I was afraid he would never trust me as a journalist again. He would tell everyone else not to trust me.

After stewing for a few minutes, I decided to just face it head on. I sent the person another email, apologizing for sending him one meant for Mark. I told him I was very sensitive to getting things right in my articles and would discuss it with Mark when he got back to the office Monday.

Fairly quickly, I heard back from this person. And it was not a big deal to him. He further complimented me on being fair and accurate in my portrayal of his viewpoints.

I’m still embarrassed about what I did. I still wish I hadn’t done it. I will probably be extra vigilant for a while before I hit that “send” button, though for all my checking, I still made a mistake. That is a lesson to not let the checking get into the compulsive range.

But the worst that I had imagined didn’t happen. And I have the feeling that if the worst did happen, I would handle it. After all, why would I suddenly stop being able to handle life? I’m far from perfect, but I do successfully handle most things eventually.

Just remember: sometimes what we imagine will be the worst thing ever really isn’t.

Have you ever hit “send” too quickly?

Facing fear

I can’t help but be glad that January is over. I spent a good part of it sick with various ailments and took three different antibiotics trying to get over everything.

The good news is that February started out wonderfully: I faced a fear.

You know that I love animals, especially cats. Over the years I have become more passionate about animal welfare, especially with companion animals like cats and dogs. I have read a lot and thought a lot and talked a lot and written a lot. I have taken care of four different cats. But I didn’t believe I was doing enough.

I have talked about volunteering with the local shelter, but I haven’t done anything about it besides inquiring about opportunities by email.

The Campbell County shelter. It's a dreary looking building. The county government is discussing whether to renovate or build a new facility.

In Campbell County, the Animal Control Care Center is separate from the humane society that operates in the county. Animal Control has to accept every animal brought to it—stray or surrendered by owner. And it is not a no-kill shelter.

Some caring people formed a group called Friends of Campbell County Control. The mission of the group “is to provide support for the animals of Campbell County and reduce the euthanasia rate.”

I follow the group on Facebook and have been so impressed at the all-volunteer efforts to care for animals and try to get them fostered or adopted.

Fern, one of the cats in the shelter. 

I never moved forward with my efforts to volunteer because I was afraid.

One of these fears is an OCD fear: fear of responsibility, that I would hurt an animal because I would shirk in my responsibilities and do something wrong. I would obsess over safety and health issues and compulsively do unnecessary things to try to make my anxiety go away.

My thought process was that if I avoided responsibility, I wouldn’t have the obsessions.

Adopting Waddles helped me a lot with this fear. But taking care of more animals, more than we ever had in our house, raised the fears again.

Honey Bee loved being held and cuddled. She wanted me to continue paying attention to her.

And I was afraid because of my anxiety. I tend to take the suffering of others to heart, sometimes to the degree that I get very emotional. I was afraid of what I would see and experience in the shelter. I was afraid of how I would feel when I had to leave the homeless animals behind when I went to my own home.

I used to put much more value on my feelings about something than I should have. That’s an OCD problem, too. If I feel like something is wrong, then something must be wrong and I better check it, fix it, repeat it, or avoid it.

Turbo has a loud purr when he's held.

But the more I spend in the quiet, thinking and writing about my values and beliefs, the better I understand that fear is a natural response to doing something different. I have to push through such fears and the accompanying feelings and at least give things a chance.

Kittens surrendered to the shelter by the owner. The yellow ones are boys and the black ones are girls. It's hard to get a still photo of a moving kitten!

This boy is new to the shelter and doesn't have a name yet. He seemed frightened. But when I opened the cage and talked to him and rubbed him, he started purring and rolling around.

This past Friday night, I sent the Friends a message on Facebook asking about the next orientation date. They wrote back that it was on Sunday. I told them I planned to attend.

I was excited and afraid. Believe me, I thought of excuses not to go. I didn’t feel 100 percent physically. I felt guilty leaving Chase Bird to go help care for other animals.

But I got in the car and drove to the shelter. I exposed myself to my fear.

When I left 90 minutes later, I felt joy and contentment.

I will be spending most of my time with the cats, which I was told was good because most volunteers want to walk the dogs.

I loved on the animals and talked to them and helped with some simple assessments on whether certain cats were OK with dogs and/or other cats.

Barbe, the leader of the volunteers, knew I was thinking of getting another cat, and she insisted on taking a photo of me and Bastet, a lovely tortoise kitty. Then she texted the photo to Larry.

Me and Bastet. She is in a purple cage in the waiting area, acting as "greeter" to visitors.

No, we’ve not made a decision to adopt yet. But I plan to go back soon and whenever I can to volunteer and love on those cats and let them know that humans can be kind to them.

What a great day it was!

I am still waiting on word about the job. The person in charge of hiring was out of town three days last week but told me he would be in touch with me this week. So I wait. Thank you for your good wishes!

What has been your favorite volunteer activity?

Waiting and anxiety

I haven’t been very active in the blogging world lately, and I apologize for that. I miss you!

I thought I was on the road to recovery, but the cough and other symptoms came back with a vengeance. I just haven’t felt very good.

But life goes on, doesn’t it?

I am waiting to hear some news that would create a change in my life.

I applied for a job that would actually be for less hours than I work now, and would still allow me time for my editing business. And the new job would pay significantly more.

I had my interview Wednesday (thank goodness I didn’t have a coughing fit at the same time). And now I’m waiting.

And I’m not good at waiting.

It’s all wrapped up with OCD and my craving for certainty. I want to know right now that everything is going to work out, that everyone is going to be OK, that the change I want to happen is going to happen.

But that’s not how life works, is it?

I’ve been trying some mindfulness techniques to help me deal with my anxiety. All I have is right now, I remind myself. I focus my senses on what’s around me right now, the sounds especially.

I also try to accept what is. I have done all I can in the matter. The rest is out of my control, and I have to accept what the outcome will be.

And I focus on what’s most important to me regardless of anything else that goes on in my life: Larry, Chase Bird, my spiritual life, writing, service to the world.

My techniques to help with the waiting and uncertainty aren’t perfect, but they are helping me to be able to deal with the anxiety so much better than I used to. I love that there are things I can do to help myself in that way.

Do you have a hard time waiting for news, good or bad?

Happy 2015!

Chase Bird allowed me to make one more silly “dress-up” photo of him to wish you all a Happy New Year.

This is a time when many of us resolve to do more, be more, be different, do differently during the next year. I tend to do that, too.

But as I wrote in my journal this morning, I am going to try to remember that we have the opportunity to set new goals, to start over, every single day, every single moment. We don’t have to pressure ourselves to perfectly live up to resolutions we make on any one day.

That said, I am making some plans and setting some goals. What I’d like to share with you today is my word for 2015.

I usually focus on choosing a guiding word for myself in the new year. The word that has come to me over and over is “Quiet.”

I need and crave quiet. I need time to stop the activity, to instead meditate and think and read and learn.

I also need to take quiet to allow the clamor of my thoughts to calm down. That’s not an easy task for me. In many ways, OCD and anxious thoughts—obsessive, relentless, continuous—are more familiar to me than a quiet mindfulness of the moment.

I need quiet to stop obsessing over the past, to stop worrying about the future, and t stop generally staying stuck. I need quiet to figure out how to move forward.

Do you ever find that once you start mulling over something, you begin to find others talking and writing about the same things?

I was fortunate to recently find a wonderful On Being program called “The Last Quiet Places: Silence and the Presence of Everything.” In the program, Gordon Hempton, an acoustic ecologist, is interviewed. The introduction to the program states that Hempton “defines real quiet as presence — not an absence of sound, but an absence of noise.”

Yes! That is what I want to experience. An absence of noise.

I hope 2015 will find me learning ways to experience quiet.

May 2015 be a joyful year for each of you!

Frustrated

Yes, I am frustrated. Whenever I can’t find the answer to a question quickly, I tend to feel frustrated.

My question is: why are my shoulder and arm still hurting?

The pain started a few months ago in the upper, outside part of my arm. Then it spread to my shoulder. Sometimes I had tingling and a slightly numb sensation in my hand.

My orthopedic doctor thought I had a pinched nerve in my neck. I had five weeks of physical therapy. At one point, the pain got better. But it never went away. And I started having more intense bouts of pain.

My doctor ordered an MRI of my neck and referred me to a colleague of his, a spine doctor.

I saw her on Monday, and she said the MRI showed degenerative changes in my neck, but no nerve impingement.

So, where is the pain coming from?

She doesn’t know. She said the neck and shoulder have a lot of overlapping areas. She scheduled me for an electromyography, or EMG. It will test the health of my muscles and nerve cells in the problem areas.

The test can’t be done until the first week of January.

Accepting uncertainty is not my strong suit. So I’m frustrated. I am challenged to accept that I can’t always know something for sure, that sometimes I must just live with uncertainty.

I’m dealing with the pain. It’s worse at night, so I am keeping up with my regular activities during the day. I’m thankful for that. I’m taking a prescription NSAID, and that helps. Most nights, I put heat on my shoulder while I try to relax.

I have done Internet searches, trying to figure out “what’s wrong with me.” Compulsive searches for information is one way my OCD manifests itself. But I am aware of what I’m doing and try to pull myself back from Google.

I have to go with the flow of the medical field right now. I have to accept that the doctors don’t know what’s causing the pain. The answers will eventually come, I hope.

And I choose to continue to try to find the fun and peaceful and beautiful moments of each day.

Here’s one: The other day, I walked by a car parked in Rustburg. On the front of the car was a red spongy-looking ball.

I wonder what that is, I thought.

Then I saw the reindeer antlers.

Car as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer!

How do you deal with uncertainty?

Doing more than just getting through it

I took this photo out my kitchen window last Monday. The town has been busy scooping up the leaves left at the curbside. They "vacuumed" up a large amount at our house last week. Larry has been busy gathering more for them to pick up this week.

Happy December! Is anyone else finding it hard to believe that the end of 2014 is upon us?

December is a particularly busy month for many. Work may be busier than usual with end-of-the-year assignments. The different holidays call us to prepare, often with shopping, cooking, cleaning, and decorating. The obligations can pile up. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed.

I’m facing a workweek that seems overwhelming to me. In fact, I’ve been dreading it. I have some challenging assignments with the newspaper that will keep me working late at least two, possibly three nights this week. And I have some personal obligations to take care of.

Even before I started my four-day Thanksgiving weekend, I looked forward and hated the thought of this coming week. It would be one of those weeks that I’d just get through, I thought. Just put my head down and do it and anticipate the weekend.

But . . . I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to feel like I have to “get through” certain days. I no longer want to wait until everything is “perfect”—not a hint of depression, no anxiety, no obsessive thoughts, no obligations, no responsibilities, etc.—to enjoy and appreciate life.

Granted, we all face difficult times when through necessity we just put one foot in front of the other. But this is a workweek I’m dreading. These weeks are a regular part of my life. I don’t want to wait for the good days anymore. I want to allow myself to have a good day any day.

This thinking harkens back to the post I wrote a couple of weeks ago about what makes for a good day. Shirley Hershey Showalter kindly posted it on her blog.

I can’t keep the good days for just those outside the newspaper office. Yes, things get hectic. I feel anxiety when facing a tight deadline, when covering something particularly controversial.

But I enjoy the work. Why not enjoy the day? Why not make each day, in some way, a good day? Even if I feel anxious, even if I fall into some OCD compulsions because of the stress, why not see the opportunity for a good day?

After all, this day is really all I have.

So I made a list of things I could do throughout the day to enjoy the day, to do meaningful work, to handle any extra anxiety, to do more than “get through” the day. And I’ve done some other planning and some preparation.

This week will be an experiment for me. I’ll report on how it goes.

In the meantime, please share in the comments section something that you do to get through the overwhelming, busy times. I love reading about others’ strategies, and I’m sure the other readers will appreciate them, too.

I’ll be back on my regular blogging schedule this week, so I’ll see you Thursday!

Sharing our secrets

Our second batch of leaves awaiting town pickup.

So many more leaves left to fall.

Somehow, I let my blog anniversary pass without remark. Nov. 14 was my third “blogiversary.” The time has flown by for me. I really have a hard time grasping that I’ve been a part of this blog community for so long.

Before I wrote my first blog post on Nov. 14, 2011, I had never shared a lot about my mental health with others.

As I began posting on the blog, as much as I wanted to be as open as possible about OCD and depression, it was difficult for me to decide what to share and what not to share, and how to express myself.

I had spent a good portion of my life hiding my OCD. Occasionally, I shared with a friend that I had OCD, but I never offered details about what that meant for me in my daily life.

I was a little more open about my depression because that seemed to be a bit more acceptable to others, but, again, I shared few details with others.

I have become more comfortable writing about how OCD and depression fit into my life and how I deal with them. I am more comfortable sharing how I live my life while “bringing along” these mental illnesses.

Recently, I discovered that talking about OCD with another person—speaking about it instead of writing about it—is a whole different experience for me.

As I was talking with this person, I felt more self-conscious about revealing the details about OCD than when I write about them.

Just speaking out loud about OCD jarred me. I heard the words coming out of my mouth, giving explanations about obsessions and compulsions, and I thought, “This disorder is weird. What is this person going to think?”

The experience was a positive one, and I’m glad I talked about OCD. Each person I talk to, each person who reads my posts, may learn a bit more, may understand this “weird” disorder a little more.

And if the person is experiencing OCD symptoms, then maybe he or she can be encouraged to get treatment.

I was reminded that sharing such secrets—which we could argue shouldn’t be secrets because having OCD is nothing to be ashamed of—with others isn’t easy.

We have the right to privacy. There is nothing wrong with keeping close to our hearts things we don’t want to or need to share with others.

But for me, sharing my secrets can help show others they are not alone.

Have you ever found relief in revealing a secret?

The dentist and OCD

Do you dread dentist appointments? Do you hate the thought of sitting in that chair with the fear of needles, drills, and other scary looking tools?

Yes, me, too.

Though I don’t dread it like I used to do. And I consider that lessening of anxiety a triumph over a bit of OCD in my life.

I went to the dentist this week for my six-month check-up. I’ve been seeing the same dentist for 29 years, and I wouldn’t trade him for another. He understands my teeth: their thin enamel, their hyper-sensitivity. He’s good at what he does.

And he’s very kind. The other day, the dental hygienist did the cleaning, as usual, then the dentist came in to look things over. As is usually the case now, he pronounced everything fine and told me he’d see me in six months.

“But if you need anything before then, you know we’re here for you,” he said.

I have spent a lifetime being vigilant about brushing my teeth and, as an adult, flossing. But I’ve had cavities and have had to have several root canals. We’re not sure why I have such problems. Perhaps the lack of fluoride as a child. Perhaps the thin enamel. Perhaps just bad genes.

When I started having OCD symptoms, the trips to the dentist became part of my obsessions.

As a dentist appointment drew closer, I felt very anxious. More importantly, I felt like I couldn’t relax, couldn’t NOT worry, until the visit was over.

If I had to return to the dentist for a cavity filling or a root canal, I tried to get an appointment as soon as possible. The sooner it was, the sooner I could get it over with and be OK.

If the appointment wasn’t soon enough (in my opinion), then I would call the dentist office multiple times, asking about cancellations.

When I grew in understanding that fear of uncertainty is a big part of OCD, I began to see that I would have to live with the idea that painful, uncomfortable, scary things were in my future, were in everyone’s future. That’s life.

But in the meantime, I was wasting the present by not allowing myself to enjoy life until the “big event” was over. I’ve learned that the present, right now, is so important.

Life is to be enjoyed and appreciated now.

Also, as my OCD improved overall, the improvement included a lessening of that belief that I couldn’t be OK until all worries were taken care of.

So I go see the dentist every six months. I still feel a little trepidation at the thought of something being wrong with my teeth. But I get through it. And if I need to go back for some work, I no longer obsess over getting the work done immediately.

It’s nice to be able to enjoy the present as best as I can.

So, what’s your relationship with the dental office?

Down and Back: Adapting to Change

The leaves are starting to pile up in the yard.

Down and back. Shoulders down and back.

That has been almost a mantra for me over the past few weeks. Ever since I started physical therapy on Oct. 3, therapists have reminded me many times to make sure my shoulders are down—not up around my ears—and back—not slumped forward.

Because I do tend to slump. My posture is horrible. Years of hunching over first paper and pen, then typewriters, then a word processor, then computers have instilled in me a slumped over posture.

Even now, as I write this, I have to remind myself over and over to sit up straight.

One of my therapists, Kyle, explained that when I lift up my right shoulder, whether it’s to pick up something, reach for something, or indulging in bad posture, I’m “grinding” those nerves that are irritated.

“When you feel pain, check to see what position your shoulder is in,” he told me once.

He recommended finding a cue to remind myself to keep the shoulders down and back. So far, I realize pretty quickly when I’m slumping forward or holding my shoulders up around my ears. But I would like to think of an actual cue.

Physical therapy has been a positive experience for me. I still have pain, but I am feeling stronger. And Kyle, plus Darius and Katie, are teaching me ways to adapt so I’m not putting pressure on nerves.

For example, during last Thursday’s session, I was having a lot of pain when I lifted up both arms to do an exercise with a stretch band. That pain had gotten better, but it seemed to have flared up again.

I can easily tell now what muscle soreness from exercise is and what the original nerve pain is.

Katie and Kyle were ready to find another way for me to strengthen the muscles without pain. It involved lying face down on a table and lifting my arm from that position. Gravity wasn’t pulling on my shoulder, so no pain.

I’ve been working on making adjustments in other areas of my life, too. When the pain was at its worst, it was very hard to use the computer—to move the mouse around, to hold my arms up to type.

Not using a computer was not an option for me. I write and edit for a living. I write and edit because I love doing those things.

The written word is like my breath.

So I am adapting. At home, I placed a firm pillow in my desk chair to lift myself up so I didn’t have to do any lifting of the shoulder to work.

I’m still working on my desk environment at the newspaper office. I originally had the mouse and its pad almost an arm’s length away from me so I could use the space right in front of me to place notebooks, reports, etc. Reaching for the mouse and moving it hurt. I found that moving the mouse pad closer to me helped a great deal.

In my daily life, I’ve learned that it’s OK to place my drinking glass on the left side of my plate so I can lift it with my left hand. I’ve learned that I can throw things pretty well with my left hand when I’m playing with Chase Bird. (He likes to smack rolled up pieces of paper or little play mice. It’s like playing volleyball with him.)

Chase Bird enjoying the sunshine on the enclosed porch.

A doctor told me years ago that I would have to adapt my life to having depression. I learned what helps me with the depression, and with OCD, and what doesn’t.

I’m learning that it works with my physical health, too. I can find ways to do the things I want to do. I just have to adapt.

And keep my shoulders down and back.

Have you ever had to adapt the way you did an activity? What would be a good cue to remind me to place my shoulders in a better position? I appreciate your input!

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.