OCD, depression and the need for community

The other morning in the shower, I really, really wanted to open and close the shampoo cap just one more time. I was having anxiety about it, and I wanted to lessen it.

OCD checking in the shower has been a real problem for me lately.

Then I remembered Krystal Lynn. I remembered the way she was forging ahead with her OCD exposures. I remembered what she had written in her post “My ERP,” on her wonderful blog Sprinkle Some Sugar On Me: I Am More than OCD: “I know for the ERP to work, I need to do the opposite of what makes me less anxious and keep up the risk of doing what makes me feel uncomfortable.”

I thought, well, Krystal Lynn is doing it. I need to do it, too. So I didn’t open and close the cap a second time. I put down the bottle and went on with my shower in spite of the anxiety I felt. Pretty soon, the anxiety dissipated.

That is an example of the beauty of the community of bloggers and readers that I’ve been blessed to find.

I no longer feel alone.

I know I’m not the only one with OCD, with obsessions and compulsions that sometimes leave me at my wits end. I’m not the only one with depression or anxiety, or the only one that sometimes wonders how to get through the hard times of life.

I’m inspired daily by the blogs and comments that others write.

And I learn from what others’ are doing, from their experiences.

We all crave community, connections with others. Even those of us who are introverts need to be a part of communities.

They can be small communities and large ones. They can be in-person communities and online ones. They can be made up of people who are going through similar experiences, and they can be made up of people who are different from us but who bring their own light to the table.

I had a hard time in my “in-person” life admitting to many people that I had mental illnesses. And I didn’t find many others through the years who told me about their own mental health issues.

When I started reading blogs written by people with mental illnesses, and then when I started writing a blog, I made connections that have made a positive difference in my life, for the reasons above.

I also found blogs and made connections with people who don’t have mental illnesses but have a sensitivity about others and an understanding of how to be supportive of others. I’ve learned so much about the beautiful things in life from them.

This online community has been a true blessing in my life. I read what you write, I feel your support, and I think about you and hope for the best for you.

How do you define community? Why is it important to be a part of communities?

Remembering Thunder Cat

Thunder Cat

Thunder Cat had gray, luxuriant hair. He was stalwart, regal, a king of a cat.

He was Larry’s first cat. In the mid-1990s, Larry lived in Lynchburg a city 20 miles north of Altavista. He didn’t have any pets when he moved into his neighborhood.

One night, as Larry sat out on his front steps, a neighbor’s cat, Thunder Cat, walked right up to him and rubbed against his leg. Larry was surprised because he didn’t really consider himself to be a cat person.

But later that night, he went to the grocery store and bought some treats to give him when he visited.

When Thunder’s original family moved, they asked Larry if he’d like to take in Thunder. Larry jumped at the chance.

When Larry and I started dating and I met Thunder, I was a little afraid. He was a grouchy cat and didn’t like to be touched except on his very limited terms. He would bite if he didn’t want to be touched—not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to hurt.

When Larry moved to Altavista, everything was different. Larry kept him inside all the time, and the new environment seemed good for him.

He calmed down and would even sit on our laps for short periods of time.

Here are some things I remember about Thunder:

*He could leap long distances. One day Larry was playing with him and was lying on the floor with his knees bent. Thunder jumped over Larry’s entire length. Larry looked up and saw only a blur of gray fur.

*I loved watching Thunder. When I sat in our living room reading, I had a view of the kitchen and the hallway leading to the bedrooms and the litter boxes.

Sometimes I’d look up and see Thunder quietly walking by, his paw steps mere puffs of sound, winding his way back to the litter boxes.

After he used the litter box, he would run back by me, his paws pounding the floor, hurrying back to his domain, the den.

*Thunder loved my shoes. When I took them off, he would stick his nose in them, then wrap his front legs around them and lie on them.

At night, he would usually stay in the den, not coming into the bedroom. Sometimes he would cry in the night. If I went and got him and brought him into the bedroom, he wouldn’t stay. But I could take him one of my shoes, and it would calm him.

*Just as Waddles helped me overcome a lot of my OCD and the fear of responsibility I had, so did Thunder. I loved being his mother and taking care of him. I embraced the responsibility.

We lost Thunder Cat to kidney failure on Feb. 12, 2009. I can’t put in words how devastated Larry and I were and how much we miss him.

We still feel his gray presence.

Is there a pet or other animal that you have admired?

OCD and logic: an unworkable mix

In my journey with OCD, I find myself having to learn some of the same lessons over and over.

I know intellectually that logic can’t play a part in combatting the obsessions and compulsions. I even wrote a post about my therapist’s advice on not using logic.

And, yet, I’ve continued to try to use logic to reach a “satisfied” state while checking, to feel that I don’t need to check again because I don’t feel anxious about it anymore.

For example, I store my razor in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. I take it out and use it in the shower when I shave my legs. After my shower, I return the razor to the medicine cabinet.

When returning the razor, I’ve been placing it on the shelf and then staring at it, trying to memorize what it looks like on the shelf, waiting to feel satisfied enough with its safety to close the cabinet door.

I’m trying to convince myself that the razor is indeed on the shelf.

It’s orange. It’s sitting on the top shelf. It’s there. It’s there. It’s there.

I do this until I feel the anxiety lessen.

That’s not what I should be doing.

What I should be doing is placing the razor on the shelf, closing the door, and then going on about my business, focusing on something else.

Otherwise, I get caught up in the obsession that the razor really isn’t on the shelf; it’s lying in a place where the cats can get to it and possibly get cut. I get caught up in the compulsion of staring at the razor, moving it around on the shelf.

I get caught up in the OCD and try to use logic to get out of it.

Another example: I did a load of laundry this evening. We have shut-off valves on the washing machine that we turn on when we do a load and turn off when we finish. My husband installed them to lower the chances of a flood in the basement if a pipe bursts.

After I was through with the washer, there I was, pushing on the valves, trying to convince myself in my mind and in my feelings that they were in the off position.

I was waiting to feel no anxiety about it.

But I have to stop doing that if I want to get better. I have to walk away from situations like the razor and the valves while I still feel anxiety about them, when the OCD is still raising doubts.

I have to allow the anxiety to lessen away from the site or situation of the obsessions and compulsions.

There doesn’t seem to be an easy way to do this. I have to work at it. I have to keep on facing situations that I know bring out the obsessions and compulsions. I have to keep on trying to stop the compulsion even though I still feel anxiety and move on to something else.

I have to put up with not being perfect at it.

And I have to do it over and over and over until it becomes easier, second nature, until the lesson is not just learned but ingrained.

No, it’s not easy. But I have to believe the work is worth it in the end.

Have you ever had lessons that you’ve had to learn over and over until they sunk in? What helped you through the process?

Making plans when you have depression and OCD

Thursday morning I recognized two things: I need to make a plan, and I’m not a very good planner when it comes to my personal life.

I had this mini-epiphany as I was getting ready to go to work—at 11 a.m. I had spent most of the morning in bed, not sleeping as much as just lying there trying to figure out what to do with my day.

It was the last day of my pay week. I had already worked 31.5 hours. I’m working a new 32-hours-a-week schedule.

But I had a court hearing to cover at 3 p.m. And I needed to try to set up an interview for a story I’m working on.

Because of this combination, I couldn’t decide when to go into work, how many hours to work, and how to spend my time before work.

Having a plan would have helped.

Over the years, I’ve developed certain habits as I’ve dealt with OCD and depression. Some of those habits influence how I plan my time.

OCD is very restrictive. It tries to dictate how you do things and when you do things.

When I started getting treatment for OCD, I was glad to begin to be free from many of the restrictions. I started to avoid adhering to a strict schedule when I didn’t absolutely have to. Too much of a schedule can feel like OCD.

Also, I made many plans over the years that got interrupted by OCD rituals like checking. I disappointed myself and others many times by being late for something or not finishing something because I was taken up in an OCD storm.

Unfortunately, I translated that into the habit of not making plans so I wouldn’t disappoint myself or anyone else.

Having depression also influences me. When I’m in a depression slump, planning a day seems to be useless when there’s nothing I want to do. Planning for the future is too difficult when I can’t look forward to anything.

OCD and depression have influenced me, but I know that I can’t stop there.

I’m responsible for how I spend my time, and I’m responsible for my habits. I’ll have to rise above the influences of OCD and depression.

Having a plan for how many hours I’ll work a day and for the time I’m not at work will help me get out of some of those bad habits I’ve developed.

Here’s what I will do:

*Figure out a schedule a week at a time.

*Use my calendar of work tasks to figure out how many hours a day I’ll need to work.

*Make a list of things I want to accomplish each day.

*Include in my lists chores and errands I need to take care of.

*Block off times to do the things that I value the most.

*Develop the habit of getting up early every day.

How much of a planner are you? Do you plan out your day, week, or month? Do you have any suggestions for those who have trouble coming up with a plan?

What do happy people do?

Recently, my therapist and I talked about the difficulty I was having in doing some of the things that we knew would help my mood, such as exercising.

He has told me before that action comes before motivation.

During this conversation, he put it a little differently.

He said people who are happy don’t go around feeling happy all the time.

What they do, he said, is choose to do things according to their values. They do things that are meaningful to them, that make their lives meaningful.

Which, for me, begs the question, what are my values?

Of course, I can tell you my basic values. I believe in loving my neighbor, in treating others with goodness, in not doing things like stealing and lying.

But how am I allowing those values to filter down into my everyday life, my everyday choices?

If I choose to exercise, what is my value behind that? If I choose to have a positive attitude, what is my value behind that?

I’m especially focused on this right now because of my new work schedule and the new choices I’ll have about how to spend my time.

I think I can work on clarifying my values in two ways. Both include writing.

I can write down what I think my values are.

And I can write down how I spend my time and how I want to spend my time, and see how my values align with that.

I believe that by being able to name my values, I’ll be able to make better choices in the things I do.

I’ll let you know how it goes!

How aware are you of your values as you make your daily choices?

Making a decision, making a change

I made my decision.

I was faced with making a big decision, which I wrote about last week in a post about OCD and making decisions.

I am making a change in my work life.

Starting this week, I am lowering my work hours to 32 hours per week.

It may not seem like a big change, but for me, it’s huge.

As you may remember, I work as a newspaper reporter. My main beats are county government, the sheriff’s office and the courts.

I write about activities in local government, crimes when they occur, and the outcomes of some of those crimes in court.

Some of my days are very long, especially Tuesdays when we lay out the paper, which I also assist with.

If I have meetings in the evenings, it also makes for a long day.

Sometimes I feel like I miss the entire day in a blur because I’m wrapped up in making phone calls and conducting interviews, or I’m hunched over my computer writing a story.

I’m away from home more than I like, and I sometimes feel overwhelmed by what I have to do at work and by what I’d like to do at home.

I think this sense of being overwhelmed stems from several things, such as my temperament; my OCD, depression and anxiety; and my energy level.

It’s also affected by the nature of my job. There’s always another deadline looming ahead, another paper to plan for, another interview to conduct, more story ideas to generate. It’s easy to stay in a state of anxiety.

For a while now, I’ve been fighting the job. I’ve had a hard time getting up in the morning to go in to work. I’ve dreaded Mondays. I’ve basically lived for the weekends, and some weekends I have to work.

After I first got the idea for cutting my hours, I talked with my husband, then the newspaper’s publisher, then the editor. Then I thought some more and talked some more and asked more questions.

I prayed. I meditated.

I knew it would mean less money. Not a lot less per week, but it would add up over a year’s time.

Also, I’ve worked full time for many years. Being a full-time worker was part of my identity.

But things worked out. I made my decision. And I’m at peace with it.

Why is this a huge change for me?

It means more time.

I’ll have chunks of days or even whole days free from the confines of the job.

More time to do the writing that I want to do. To do more things at home. To perhaps start an editing business.

More time with Larry.

I hope with the step back, I’ll be able to enjoy my job more.

And I hope that I’ll feel less overwhelmed, more ready to tackle the mental health issues that affect me.

I’m so grateful that I’m able to do this now. I don’t want to take the opportunity for granted.

Have you ever made a change in your work life that had big effects on your life?

OCD and making decisions

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

As soon as he asked the question, I started doubting the decision that I thought I was satisfied with.

That’s all it took: a question, and I became uncertain about something I had been sure about for days.

I was faced with a decision recently that, depending on the route I took, could result in important changes in my life.

I came up with the idea for the change in the first place and pursued it, at first hesitantly, and then with more desire and confidence.

Then the doubt came.

I’ll write specifically about that decision in a post soon, but today, I’m focusing on the decision-making process and how obsessive-compulsive disorder can affect it.

Having OCD means having a lot of uncertainty about things that others don’t even think about. Those of us with OCD wonder about things like whether or not the stove is turned off, whether or not we hit someone with our car, whether or not we read a page in a book thoroughly, whether or not our hands are clean, whether or not we harmed someone.

The uncertainty about these things—the obsessions that trap us into thinking about these things—can lead to the compulsions that we do to try to alleviate the extreme anxiety we feel.

I have found that the same uncertainty that surrounds the obsessions and compulsions also filters into my decision-making process.

It isn’t always easy for me to make a decision, even about something as innocuous as what restaurant to eat in or whether or not to make a phone call.

I obsess over whether or not I’m making the right choice. I’m afraid of making a wrong choice. I’m afraid of hurting someone or otherwise adversely affecting someone with my decision. I’m afraid of ruining my life with one bad decision.

So I quite often practice avoidance. I leave decisions to others, or delay decisions until they’re made for me.

I also compulsively ask for reassurance from others. I want someone to say, “Tina, you are making the right decision. I have no doubt about it.”

What I’m really looking for is for someone else to take responsibility for the decision. And that’s not fair to others. Others deal with uncertainty—why shouldn’t I?

So after the setback by doubt, I did more research, asked more questions, thought more about the decision. And when I felt a great sense of devastation when it seemed things weren’t going to work out, I sensed that I may have been on the right path to begin with.

I had to let go of my fear of making a decision.

None of us can ever be 100 percent sure all the time that we’re making the right decisions. Uncertainty is a fact of life. Those of us with OCD may have more doubt than those who don’t, but we can still be responsible enough to make decisions. We just may have to try harder.

What goes into your decision-making process? What do you do when faced with a tough decision?