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My Story
OCD became a dominant force in my life when I was pregnant with my first child in
1976. What began as healthy desire to protect my unborn child and provide him
with the optimal chances for a healthy start in life became a preoccupation with
and a fear of doing something that would cause him harm. It snowballed to the
point that the smallest thing would cause me intense concern and worry that he
would not be okay. After he was born--perfectly whole and healthy--my attention
began to focus on hygiene and keeping him and myself clean. I washed my hands
constantly and fretted about anyone else holding him if he/she had dirty hands.
Soon these fears of dirt, germs, and contamination became a controlling,
all-powerful force that affected all areas of my life.
I washed my hands surgeon-style with such frequency that my hands became raw and actually bled. I took a LOT of showers, and there was a lot of ritual involved with HOW I took a shower. Everything had to be done in a certain way, and if I accidently touched the wall of the shower or the shower curtain, then I would have to start all over again. I had to clean the house, or at least parts of it, constantly. These cleaning rituals took up more and more of my time and were exhausting. It became easier to just NOT clean certain portions of the house, and then those areas would be "quarantined"; no one was allowed to enter those areas, or he/she would become contaminated. Cleaning was a complicated ordeal, because it was impossible to completely eliminate the "contamination"; instead it was just spread around and created new places that needed to be cleaned. For example, if I took out the trash, then I would have to go back and clean every surface that I had walked past with the trash bags; then I would have to contend with the clothes I had worn while performing the job, because now THEY were contaminated. It was like a domino effect, and the task was never-ending.
Now, as I look back, I feel exhausted just THINKING about all that I did, and I wonder HOW I ever got through it all. I was very aware at the time I did these things that it was not normal to be like this. One time, when cleaning a little stretch of hallway for about FIVE HOURS, I was crying and asking myself, "WHY am I doing this?" But I had to do it, no matter how tired I was. OCD is about fear and panic. Someone once described it as the feeling you have when you realize your are about to run head-on into a diesel truck; you really feel that you are about to die. So, you do whatever you have to do to try to make the feeling go away.
I sought professional help several times and ran into a lot of dead ends. One counselor asked me, "Do you ever turn the light switch on with your elbow?" When my answer was, "Yes", he replied, "Oh, this is something that is just about impossible to treat!" (This was in 1979 or ‘80). Another counselor I went to (only ONCE!) wanted me to believe that it was my faith in God that was the real problem. When I found a psychiatrist that I really liked and with whom I really felt comfortable sharing my innermost self, I was told on only the second visit that she would be moving away to New Mexico. I saw counselors who tried hypnosis, and I was at one point put on an antidepressant that had very limited success. (That particular medication was all that was available at the time, 1982) I even spent a whole month in a psychiatric hospital.
What finally helped me was the direct answer to prayer and it was a drug called Anafranil. I had to take part in a double-blind drug study to get it because it was not yet approved by the FDA. It provided me with immediate results and gave me back my life. I tell all of this in much more detail in my book, Heart to Heart: the Stories Behind the Songs.
Throughout all this I was (and still am) a Christian, and I credit my faith in my Lord Jesus Christ as being the reason I survived to tell my story. But, at the time, I also suffered immense guilt on top of everything else for having the problem in the first place. I would think, "If I were the kind of Christian I SHOULD be and had the kind of faith I SHOULD have, I wouldn't have this problem." I would be judge and jury of myself and find myself unworthy to even live. I realize now that OCD is NOT caused by moral or spiritual weakness. It is a disorder with physiological roots in the brain. I became convinced of that when I saw how quickly a medication was able to turn my life around. No one, not even the most devout Christian, thinks judgmentally of a diabetic who needs to take insulin to replace something that the body is lacking. Why, then, do we tend to judge so quickly when the medicine needed is an antidepressant to help regulate serotonin levels in the synapses of the brain? Anafranil was my "insulin" and I thank God for it! I praise HIM for the advances in science that help doctors understand the intricacies of brain function and that help these new medicines to be developed.
The Bible says to "be thankful in everything," and I used to ask, "Lord, how can I be thankful for THIS?" Now I truly am thankful and I realize that I have been exceedingly blessed. I am a better person and much more able to empathize with others who are hurting because of having had OCD. I have experienced the unconditional love of God in SO many ways, and I feel closer to him because of what he has brought me through. Looking back, I am in awe of him and how he has worked in my life. I am thankful for the songs that I am able to sing--songs that probably would not have been written had I not had to spend so much time in the valley. (The writing of a song, however, would transport me to the mountaintop!) The OCD has made me humble and has made me recognize my own weakness and frailty, and it is when WE are weak that HE is strong. God is so good!
When I look back and recall the hard times, it is so easy to get "down" on myself and find fault, so I like to concentrate mostly on what I did RIGHT! These are things that all of us can do when we face life's difficulties. (1) I admitted that I had a problem, and I was willing to look at myself and my situation honestly. (2) I WANTED to get well and was willing to do whatever was necessary to achieve wholeness. Sometimes change, even for the better, means getting out of our "comfort" zone. (3) I was willing to guard my mind and let in only those things that are conducive to good mental health. This has become even more important as I have begun to experience a measure of peace in my life. It would be foolish for me to threaten that precious peace by going to see a movie such as "Outbreak", about a virus run amuck! (4) I never, ever gave up. I never ceased to search for a solution or for the help I needed. Perseverance does pay! (5) I never ceased to cry out to God for help! He does hear our cries. Sometimes the answers are not immediate, but "those who wait upon the Lord WILL renew their strength..." Isaiah 40.
I washed my hands surgeon-style with such frequency that my hands became raw and actually bled. I took a LOT of showers, and there was a lot of ritual involved with HOW I took a shower. Everything had to be done in a certain way, and if I accidently touched the wall of the shower or the shower curtain, then I would have to start all over again. I had to clean the house, or at least parts of it, constantly. These cleaning rituals took up more and more of my time and were exhausting. It became easier to just NOT clean certain portions of the house, and then those areas would be "quarantined"; no one was allowed to enter those areas, or he/she would become contaminated. Cleaning was a complicated ordeal, because it was impossible to completely eliminate the "contamination"; instead it was just spread around and created new places that needed to be cleaned. For example, if I took out the trash, then I would have to go back and clean every surface that I had walked past with the trash bags; then I would have to contend with the clothes I had worn while performing the job, because now THEY were contaminated. It was like a domino effect, and the task was never-ending.
Now, as I look back, I feel exhausted just THINKING about all that I did, and I wonder HOW I ever got through it all. I was very aware at the time I did these things that it was not normal to be like this. One time, when cleaning a little stretch of hallway for about FIVE HOURS, I was crying and asking myself, "WHY am I doing this?" But I had to do it, no matter how tired I was. OCD is about fear and panic. Someone once described it as the feeling you have when you realize your are about to run head-on into a diesel truck; you really feel that you are about to die. So, you do whatever you have to do to try to make the feeling go away.
I sought professional help several times and ran into a lot of dead ends. One counselor asked me, "Do you ever turn the light switch on with your elbow?" When my answer was, "Yes", he replied, "Oh, this is something that is just about impossible to treat!" (This was in 1979 or ‘80). Another counselor I went to (only ONCE!) wanted me to believe that it was my faith in God that was the real problem. When I found a psychiatrist that I really liked and with whom I really felt comfortable sharing my innermost self, I was told on only the second visit that she would be moving away to New Mexico. I saw counselors who tried hypnosis, and I was at one point put on an antidepressant that had very limited success. (That particular medication was all that was available at the time, 1982) I even spent a whole month in a psychiatric hospital.
What finally helped me was the direct answer to prayer and it was a drug called Anafranil. I had to take part in a double-blind drug study to get it because it was not yet approved by the FDA. It provided me with immediate results and gave me back my life. I tell all of this in much more detail in my book, Heart to Heart: the Stories Behind the Songs.
Throughout all this I was (and still am) a Christian, and I credit my faith in my Lord Jesus Christ as being the reason I survived to tell my story. But, at the time, I also suffered immense guilt on top of everything else for having the problem in the first place. I would think, "If I were the kind of Christian I SHOULD be and had the kind of faith I SHOULD have, I wouldn't have this problem." I would be judge and jury of myself and find myself unworthy to even live. I realize now that OCD is NOT caused by moral or spiritual weakness. It is a disorder with physiological roots in the brain. I became convinced of that when I saw how quickly a medication was able to turn my life around. No one, not even the most devout Christian, thinks judgmentally of a diabetic who needs to take insulin to replace something that the body is lacking. Why, then, do we tend to judge so quickly when the medicine needed is an antidepressant to help regulate serotonin levels in the synapses of the brain? Anafranil was my "insulin" and I thank God for it! I praise HIM for the advances in science that help doctors understand the intricacies of brain function and that help these new medicines to be developed.
The Bible says to "be thankful in everything," and I used to ask, "Lord, how can I be thankful for THIS?" Now I truly am thankful and I realize that I have been exceedingly blessed. I am a better person and much more able to empathize with others who are hurting because of having had OCD. I have experienced the unconditional love of God in SO many ways, and I feel closer to him because of what he has brought me through. Looking back, I am in awe of him and how he has worked in my life. I am thankful for the songs that I am able to sing--songs that probably would not have been written had I not had to spend so much time in the valley. (The writing of a song, however, would transport me to the mountaintop!) The OCD has made me humble and has made me recognize my own weakness and frailty, and it is when WE are weak that HE is strong. God is so good!
When I look back and recall the hard times, it is so easy to get "down" on myself and find fault, so I like to concentrate mostly on what I did RIGHT! These are things that all of us can do when we face life's difficulties. (1) I admitted that I had a problem, and I was willing to look at myself and my situation honestly. (2) I WANTED to get well and was willing to do whatever was necessary to achieve wholeness. Sometimes change, even for the better, means getting out of our "comfort" zone. (3) I was willing to guard my mind and let in only those things that are conducive to good mental health. This has become even more important as I have begun to experience a measure of peace in my life. It would be foolish for me to threaten that precious peace by going to see a movie such as "Outbreak", about a virus run amuck! (4) I never, ever gave up. I never ceased to search for a solution or for the help I needed. Perseverance does pay! (5) I never ceased to cry out to God for help! He does hear our cries. Sometimes the answers are not immediate, but "those who wait upon the Lord WILL renew their strength..." Isaiah 40.