OCD
It's intense fear. You're always running from it, knowing it could catch you as soon as you stop.
I published a book this past week. It's the best book I've written so far. But it doesn't matter. No matter how perfect the grammar is, how compelling the story is, how inspiring the message is... it still isn't enough. My OCD lied to me. It said that I would feel better once I finished. (It said that with my previous books too.) It compelled me to work long, exhausting hours. (Even after the inspiration and flow wore off.) I recorded the message, wrote the story, felt inspired. It wasn't enough. OCD said I couldn't stop until it was finished. "When it's done, you will feel better," the monster lied.
It's never satisfied. I publish the book. It is received with loving and open arms by friends and family. It receives wonderful reviews, humbling praise.
But my monster isn't satisfied. In fact, it keeps me so busy that I don't have a moment alone with God and my book to appreciate the accomplishment, the miracle that it is.
Nope, because the OCD says "get back to work. This book is worthless unless you write another." So I write. I brainstorm. I create. And somewhere in the rush, the magic of creating something new is replaced with a frenzied need to find acceptance and peace. So I continue with my compulsions, writing new books and checking social media, hoping for outside approval. Because my inside won't give me the approval that I crave.
Do I feel guilty when I spend hours each day checking social media, checking Amazon, checking my publishing site, while my kids ask for my attention.
Of course.
And my OCD jumps at the opportunity. "You won't be a good mom until...you spend more time, give them EVERYTHING they need, go outside more, attend more social events with them, clean the house (AGAIN)."
if I start to recognize the monster for what it is, accepting that I am a good mother, it has plenty of other fuel.
"You won't be a good author until...
You won't make up for not graduating from college until...
You won't be a good friend until..."
It's endless.
Obsessive compulsive disorder CAN. NOT. be satisfied.
And then I remember that I've been neglecting my ERP practice. The one therapy practice that has been proven to help with OCD.
I've been telling myself that I don't need it. After all, it's such a simple thing.
In reality, I'm terrified. My internal defense system will do anything to avoid ERP.
It's painful. It's choosing to face my fears. It's choosing to expose my weakness, embrace the fear, and then sit with it as my heart beats fast and my head spins. My body and all my survival instincts scream "get me out of here!"
But it's the only way.
No amount of talk therapy will cure my OCD. No amount of rumination or analyzing. In fact, those things will feed my monster. The monster will ALWAYS demand more. It cannot be satisfied.
There are hard moments. There are hard weeks. There are hard months and years.
This one has been a hard week. (The week or so after publishing always is... and it's sad when I stop long enough to think about it. Stopping that long is painful though, so it doesn't happen often.) I wish I could feel excited, accomplished, pleased. But excitement is dangerous. It has been for the last several years. Excitement quickly turns to anxiety. And anxiety quickly turns to OCD. I try to avoid things that excite me. (Avoidance... Oh dear, another compulsion.)
But there are happy moments. My OCD distracts me from them.
But I can be merciful to myself and chose to live in the moment. Choose to embrace the next happy moment. I can allow myself to mourn the losses in my life. The loss of time. The loss of moments and memories that OCD has consumed.
Things will get better, but it's okay that it doesn't feel that way.
