Waiting for an OCD rescue

The other night I was folding some laundry leftover from the weekend.

More laundry was in the washer and dryer. Larry had started washing cat blankets and beds, and I followed him with a load of clothes.

As I folded the laundry, I thought that the last of the kitty laundry was dry. It was time to empty the dryer and fill it with a new load, the clothes.

So I started to ask Larry to empty the dryer for me.

After all, that way I could avoid having to clean the dryer filter “good enough.” I wouldn’t have to worry about stray pieces of lint floating around and causing a fire. I wouldn’t have to worry about finding the dryer sheet hidden in the laundry, just waiting to ride upstairs in the laundry basket, ready for the cats to pounce on and eat and get sick from.

Yes, those are some of the things I worry about when it comes to laundry. And there are even more things I worry about when doing laundry.

But the other night, as I was folding laundry, it hit me.

I needed to take the kitty laundry out of the dryer myself.

I needed to stop waiting to be rescued.

I needed to stop depending on Larry to do the tasks that I didn’t want to do because of OCD. I needed to stop avoiding what I was afraid of.

I went downstairs and took care of the laundry myself.

I’m still avoiding certain tasks and situations because of OCD. And I’ve been expecting Larry to do some of those tasks and take care of some of those situations.

For example, I leave several cat care duties to Larry because of my OCD.

I don’t like to change the water in their bowls because if I have to wash the bowls first, then I’ll worry about getting all of the soap residue off before I fill it up with cold water for drinking. And I will have to check over and over to make sure it’s cold water and not hot water that I leave in the bowl.

I avoid washing the cat food bowls for similar reasons: I might not rinse them well enough and soap residue might make the cats sick.

I don’t clean the litter boxes because it’s just too messy and sometimes hard to look at.

Yes, OCD is a strange disorder.

I’m depending on Larry to carry a chunk of my OCD load for me. That’s not fair to him. And it’s not fair to me in that I won’t get better in those areas if I don’t try to push through the anxiety related to them.

I’m going to have to study my routines to find other things that I’m relying on Larry to take care of because of OCD. And I’m going to have to start helping with those tasks.

And stop expecting an OCD rescue.

Have you ever leaned too much on someone else to carry the load because of OCD, depression or some other issue?

Things that can help depression

All is not lost when I’m going through a period of deepening depression. Sometimes it seems like it is, especially during the worst moments of hopelessness. But if I lift my head long enough, I can see that there are things that I can do for myself to feel better.

And if you’ve ever been depressed, you’ll know that feeling even a little bit better can be a great relief.

I’m looking forward to seeing my therapist this week and my psychiatrist this week or next. In the meantime, here are some nonmedical things that have offered me some relief within the last few weeks:

*Spending time with my husband. Being with my husband, who is patient and kind and loving, lifts me up on even the worst days. Larry knows I’m not doing well, but he tries to draw me into conversation and make me laugh.

Even just being near Larry, knowing that he’s in the next room, makes me feel less alone. We spend a lot of time together on weekends. During the week, when our schedules allow, lunch with Larry breaks up my workday in a wonderful way.

*Spending time with my cats. Being in nature is good for my hurting spirit. I can’t seem to muster the energy or motivation to spend a lot of time outside, but I have nature in my house in the form of two furry creatures, Sam and Chase.

Focusing on them and their needs—for food, water, treats, warm places to sleep and lots of attention—takes me out of myself at least temporarily.

And their purrs and the sweet nudges they give me with their heads are balm to my heart.

*Reading books. I’m glad the reading OCD has receded because reading has been a big relief for me. I’m currently reading a mystery/thriller, which helps me to get out of myself and enter a different world for a while, and a nonfiction book that is teaching me a lot about the spirit.

*Reading blogs. Reading about the journeys that others are taking helps me know I’m not alone, gives me ideas for what I might do and just reminds me of all the good people out there striving to live life the best ways they can.

*Taking time to breathe. I tend to feel overwhelmed, especially when I’m at work. I find that stopping for just a minute or two and listening to my breath puts me in a better frame of mind.

There are other nonmedical things that I know help with depression that I haven’t been doing. For example, exercise can offer relief from depression. And it doesn’t have to be a workout at the gym. It can be a walk.

Being around other people and focusing on them or a shared activity can also be helpful.

I haven’t been exercising, and I’ve been staying at home most of the time when I’m not at work.

This is a case where I know about things that would help me feel better, but I don’t have the energy or inclination to do them. That needs to change, I know.

In the meantime, I will continue my activities that I’ve been doing. And I'll continue to have hope that things will get better.

What helps you when you’re feeling depressed, low or in a negative mood?

Depression and lingering stigma

I’m in another period of deepening depression. There’s nothing pretty or poetic to say about it. It is just there.

It wasn’t totally unexpected when the lows came back around. I made a change in medication last month. My psychiatrist took me off of one of the prescriptions I was on because he thought it was causing the intense restlessness that was plaguing me, and he told me that another change might be necessary.

But I wanted to wait a little while and see how I did on just the one medication I’m still taking. I wanted to see if just the one would suffice.

I am grateful that the restlessness abated. My whole level of anxiety, including the anxiety of OCD, has been better lately.

However, the rough energy of the restlessness has been replaced by now-familiar depression.

I’ve had a difficult time getting through my daily duties, and, worst of all, I’ve had the unrelenting hopelessness that marks depression for me.

I wake up and have no enthusiasm or desire to face the day. I cry in the shower as I get ready for work, cry on the way to work, and spend my workdays wanting to scream.

This return of depression, like always, has me thinking about its causes.

Is it related to current situations in my life? Is it chemical? Is it related to the change in medication? Is it related to the season? Is it a combination of all of the above?

I’ve analyzed it, thought and thought about it, obsessed over it in ways that I suspect are related to OCD.

But no matter what is causing it, the big question for me really has been, when should I call the doctor? When is it bad enough to call the doctor?

Because no matter how many times I’ve gone through these bouts of depression, I still doubt myself. I still tell myself that I should be able to deal with this depression on my own, without a doctor’s help. After all, I’m already on an antidepressant. After all, I should be able to rise above it, snap out of it.

Yes, I sometimes buy into the stigma about depression.

I surprised myself when I realized what I was doing. How could I still cling to the myths about depression? How could I still give credence to the beliefs that those of us with mental illnesses should just be quiet about it, get over it, have a positive attitude, be happy already?

How could I fail to see right away that I needed help?

The stigma surrounding mental illness can be subtle, and it can affect how even those of us with mental illnesses treat ourselves.

If you had the same symptoms, I would have advised you to get professional help. I would have assured you that help is available. That treatment can help. That there’s no shame in asking for help.

I told myself a different story.

That story broke into pieces when I finally found the answer to that question of when is it bad enough. I reached my limit. I knew—yes, indeed, I need to see my doctor.

I originally had an appointment to see him again at the end of December, but I rescheduled the appointment for later in January because of work.

On Tuesday I called my doctor’s office to see if he had any openings this week. I was told that he was out of the office until next Tuesday.

So I must wait.

And I’ll be OK to wait. I’ll do what I can to manage this depression. But I won’t deny any longer that I need a professional’s help.

Have you ever found yourself believing the myths about mental illnesses? Have you ever denied to yourself that you needed help from others?

Reading OCD does a disappearing act

I’m reading again.

That may sound like a small thing, but it’s huge for me.

I periodically have a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder called reading OCD.

I wrote about reading OCD in this post. Basically, this form of OCD makes me obsess over whether or not I’ve “really” read a passage in a book or magazine and whether or not I’ve understood what I’ve read.

The compulsion, then, is to reread passages over and over until it feels “right.”

This makes reading laborious and sometimes unbearable. I find myself avoiding reading. It’s just not worth the effort.

Reading OCD first affected me when I was in the seventh grade. It made doing schoolwork a nightmare. I had a hard time finishing assignments because I took so much time to read the work.

Reading OCD followed me periodically through school and in the years after. I’ve gone through periods when I’ve zipped through books with no problem, not even thinking about reading.

Then I’ve had periods when I couldn’t finish one book for weeks at a time, and I’ve stopped trying.

My efforts to resolve this OCD ritual have had mixed results. I normally try to discipline myself not to go back and reread, no matter how badly I want to. Sometimes this works. Sometimes I end up unable to focus on what I’m reading because of the anxiety.

I have no explanation for why this form of OCD, or for that matter, any form of OCD, can wax and wane. I don’t know why I go into periods of not being able to read. I don’t know why those periods will end without warning.

I do have some suspicions. I think that the more anxious I am generally, and the more other OCD symptoms are flaring, the more the reading OCD acts up.

I went through such a period this past fall. For some weeks, I didn’t pick up a book for serious reading because of the pain of trying to keep myself from rereading.

I think part of the reason was because a medication I was on was ramping up my anxiety. I wrote about a change in medication that I made shortly before the holiday season began. With that change, my general anxiety level has dropped.

Maybe that’s why I was able to read and finish a book over Christmas. Then shortly after Christmas, I picked up a book that I had received as a gift and started reading. And read and read. I read it in about two days, then picked up another book and finished that in a few days. Considering that I had to go to work during that time, I was thrilled.

The reading is good now, and I’m thankful for it. I hope it lasts.

I hope the next time reading OCD strikes, I’ll be more successful at my attempts to derail it.

And what am I reading? I just finished A Wanted Man, by Lee Child and Flash and Bones, by Kathy Reichs. Now I’m reading a nonfiction book that I’ll probably review here.

Are you a reader? What kinds of books do you read? If you’re on Goodreads, you can find me under http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/7185436-tina.

Checking OCD and not waiting for the reassuring click

Let me explain what the reassuring click is.

When I take a shower, I use liquid soap and shampoo, both in bottles that make a snapping sound when the top is pushed back to the closed position.

I depend on that snapping sound to tell me that the bottle is properly closed.

Because if it’s not properly closed, then one of the cats might be able to open the soap or shampoo bottle and lick the soap or shampoo.

Never mind the fact that neither cat has ever shown an interest in doing such a thing. Never mind the fact that Sam doesn’t get in the shower. Never mind that Chase doesn’t have free rein of the house unless he’s supervised.

The OCD mind just cares that it could happen.

Different bottles make different sounds when they’re being closed. Some snaps are a loud clunk. Some are more of a faint tap.

The OCD mind particularly doesn’t like the faint taps. The loud clunks are more reassuring. But even the loud clunks have their problems. Because the OCD mind can find reasons to doubt even those.

The result is that I spend time in the shower opening and closing each bottle I use several times until the resulting snapping sound is “right.” That elusive “rightness” that only the OCD mind can recognize.

I’ve described my shower routine before in a post about OCD and slowness. I have gotten a little faster in my routine since I started focusing more on exposure and response prevention, but I still had rituals, including the bottle-closing ritual.

So I decided that I was going to address that particular ritual.

I decided that I was going to have to live with closing each bottle just once, no matter what sound was made when I closed the bottles.

“I’m just going to have to live with it” would become my mantra in the shower.

So I tried it. And it worked.

I liked having the decision already made that I would close each bottle one time only. I would not allow myself to open and close it repeatedly until I liked the sound it made.

Of course, that means that I have to tolerate the anxiety of not knowing for sure if the bottles are properly closed.

But I am finding that the anxiety actually fades pretty quickly as I focus on finishing my shower, drying my hair, getting dressed, etc.

Now I’m wondering if it would be helpful to apply this “I’m just going to have to live with it” mantra to other OCD rituals.

What are some of the things you tell yourself as you strive to make changes in your life?

Vision board for fighting my OCD

I created a vision board for inspiration in my ongoing efforts to improve my obsessive-compulsive disorder.

I got the idea from Lisa at Two Bears Farm. She created a wonderful board when she was trying to get back into shape after the birth of her twins.

I already had some corkboards, so I used one of them. I covered it with scrap paper and then began taping up words and photos that inspire me.

I didn’t allow myself to be a perfectionist about it. There are uneven edges to the design.

I included photos of my husband and cats and photos representing things that I want to do with my time instead of spending it on obsessions and compulsions.

I also included copies of my fear hierarchies so I can see at a glance what I intend to tackle.

I set it up in the bedroom and look at it mostly in the morning as I’m getting ready for my day. I like having a visual reminder of what I’m working on.

However, I have discovered that the more I look at it, the more it tends to fade into the background—kind of like the chair that’s always there that you don’t notice anymore.

So I will need to add and change things as I go along, to keep it fresh.

What I have is a board to remind me that I’m on a journey to win over OCD, to live with it on my terms.

Have you ever made something like a vision board? Do you have any suggestions on how to make it more effective?

Letting go of emotions that feed my OCD and depression

As I wrote about in my last post, I have made “letting go” the theme to guide my goals in 2013.

I have some heavy, serious emotions to deal with and to try to let go of: anger, sadness, resentment, despair, even hate.

I don’t like to admit having these feelings and emotions, but they are there, sometimes lying underneath the day-to-day feelings, sometimes rising to the surface.

I have found myself lying down at night, unable to go to sleep because of the thoughts running through my head, ruminations and obsessions that make those negative emotions rise to the surface and feed my anxiety, OCD and depression.

I want to be free. I want to be light and free of the tears that come when I contemplate all the junk inside me.

In a recent guest post linked to from her blog, Shirley Hershey Showalter wrote about two verses from the Bible to help guide her through 2013. In a comment, I told her how she had inspired me to find words to help me in my theme of letting go. And she offered this link to a beautiful poem by Mary Oliver.

Inspired by Shirley, I will take Oliver’s poem with me through the year.

In addition, I will take my favorite prayer, which, to me, is all about letting go of what we don’t need to hold us back, and taking on and passing on what is important: peace, pardon, faith, hope, light, joy and, most important, love. That is the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

I’m not looking forward to the work that will be involved in letting go of these emotions and of bad habits that I’ve taken on through the years. But letting go will surely help me with my mental health issues, and with that, my whole life.

  What are you trying to let go of?