Lasting Discipleship: What I've Learned About Following Jesus Christ Through My Mental Health Journey

This past week I was invited to speak to my church congregation about "lasting discipleship." I'm really grateful for that invitation and for the closeness I felt with God while preparing my thoughts to share. I'm also so grateful for the incredible congregation I'm a part of and how loved, accepted, and appreciated they made me feel. (I prepared this specifically for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but I think many of the principles apply to people of different faiths and denominations.) This talk is a bit nontraditional, but while preparing to talk about "discipleship" I felt drawn to sharing things I've learned over the past two years through my treatment for OCD.

* * *

 

We often talk about “do’s” when it comes to being a disciple of Christ. (scripture study, going to church, serving, praying, temple worship, etc). A few years ago, I hit an ultimate low, and I couldn’t do the “do’s” anymore. My mental illness interfered with my scripture study and prayer. I didn’t have physical strength or energy to get out of bed and care for my kids the way I wanted to. I felt worthless because I couldn’t “do” things that I felt I needed to do–things that I thought made me valuable. This caused me to reflect deeply on what gives me value and purpose and on my relationship with Jesus Christ. 

Firstly, I want to say that nothing you or I do can earn us Heavenly Father’s love. Nothing we do can increase our personal value or worth. Just as President Nelson has said many times, Heavenly Father’s love for you is simply always there. It always has been there and always will be there. Nothing you do can affect or change that (for better or for worse). You can’t earn His love. He has already given it freely and will never take it away. The same goes for your worth as His child. You cannot do anything to lessen or increase your worth. No amount of sin will decrease your worth. No amount of righteousness will increase your worth. 

 

So why be a disciple of Jesus Christ? I believe it’s because He loves us perfectly, and when we experience that love, we want to love Him back with that same amazing, encompassing love. The thing is, He is perfect, we are not. He is unchanging, we are still changing. So we cannot love Him completely perfectly now, but we want to do our best and give Him what we can, which is ultimately just our heart. So for me, I choose to be a disciple of Christ not because it will increase my value as a person or increase God’s love for me, but because I have felt the Savior’s redeeming, unconditional love. And I want to do all I can to love Him the same way, to return that kind of love to Him. And I believe that the journey of learning to love Him that way will bring me joy.

 

Secondly, think about how you define being a disciple of Jesus Christ. Is discipleship a list of things you do? Or is it more? For me, discipleship is “loving Jesus Christ and relying on Him as I imperfectly strive to follow Him.” I learned from my health crisis a few years ago that if my discipleship and purpose depend on what I can “do,” it is not guaranteed to be lasting in this life. Because mortality is hard, and things change. (Physical health, mental health, capabilities, etc) Heavenly Father understands these limitations and loves us in our brokenness. 

 

As I’ve healed and learned over the past few years, here are 3 things that being a disciple of Christ means to me. I decided to list these three things as things we can “be” rather than things we can “do.” Because even in the lowest points of life when we can’t do what we normally do, we can still choose who we are going to be.

1.     Be Authentic (let go of perfectionism)

2.     Be a Safe Space (Eliminate shame)

3.     Be Kind to Yourself (set gospel-centered goals that encourage you rather than discourage you.) 

 

1.     We can Be Authentic. 

 

I've learned about authenticity through my struggles with perfectionism. There were times I was so focused on the do’s that I lost the “music”, or joy, of the gospel for a while. I was doing things because I was afraid of not doing them instead of doing them to be with the Lord.

I've come to believe that perfectionism is based on a lie: “I don’t need, or shouldn’t need, the Savior.” 

Perfectionism becomes about “do’s” or accomplishments, rather than on who we are and how much God loves us. 

I kept having this visual come to mind while thinking about this talk. Imagine that you are walking along a path carrying a huge bag of burdens on your back. You stagger along, sweating, muscles taught. Eventually, you stop focusing on your burden long enough to realize that the Savior is walking beside you. You glance at Him, and He tells you He can carry the burden for you, that He has already done the work. Now here are two different ideas of how a person could react. 

            -First response: “Lord, you shouldn’t have to carry any more. This is my burden and I should be able to carry it. If I ever want to be like you, I should be able to do what you do. I should be able to do this for myself.” 

            -I got to a point in my life where I thought this was discipleship. Loving Him so much that I should be able to do what He does, and be able to do it now. 

            -Second response: The Lord offers to take your burden, you fall to His feet, laying the burden there, and bathing His feet in your tears. When you can speak, you say, “Thank you, Lord. I need You. I need Your help. Tell me what to do as I follow You.” 

            -Now I believe that this second response is true and lasting discipleship. Our efforts alone (like the first response) won’t last. No matter how hard we try to be exactly like the Savior now, it is impossible, and it is not what the Lord asks us to do. 

I love the footnotes in the scriptures when God commands us to be perfect even as He is. As I’ve studied more on this, I’ve learned that God is asking us to be “whole” or “complete” like He is. He’s given us the way to be whole. And it is Jesus Christ. 

Being whole and complete won’t come from anything we do. It will come from being with the Savior. And discipleship is the way we can be with Him.

One example of how we might see or fall into perfectionism in the church is focusing too much on what we and others do. For example: “I will only date and/or marry a returned missionary.” Or “I will be righteous if I serve a mission that is ‘full time’.” This mindset is all about something someone accomplished and tells little about who someone is striving to be. Eliminating perfectionism might look like changing that to “I will date/marry someone who deeply loves the Lord and who wants to serve Him with me.” Or instead of “I have to serve a mission to be righteous.” “I would like to serve a mission if I’m able. But more importantly, I want to make covenants with the Lord and be with Him however that looks in my life.” 

Changing the mindset in our church culture in this way might invite more of Christ’s love into our church body. Letting go of perfectionism might make church a safer place for people who come home from missions “early” or choose not to go on missions. Because they will know that we know their value is not based on things they do but on who they are as a child of God. And their identity as a child of God is unchanging and warrants unconditional love. I think Christ’s church should be a safe space for all of God’s children, because the Savior is a safe space. He invites all to come unto Him, no matter what state they are in or what they have or haven’t done.

Back to authenticity... Instead of trying to be “perfect,” let’s allow ourselves to be authentic human beings. God made you with special and unique gifts and traits. He also knows you are only human right now. Allow yourself to be human, and allow yourself to be the wonderful child of God you already are. 

 

2.     We can be a Safe Space. (Eliminate Shame.)

 

I have learned what safe spaces look like and feel like in my life as I have learned to identify shame and try to eliminate it from my life. Satan introduced shame to Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. It’s one of his greatest and oldest tactics. When Adam and Eve transgressed, Satan told them to hide from God.

Unfortunately, shame is so pervasive that it’s even interwoven in some aspects of church culture and definitely in societal culture. (Kind of like the mission example we talked about. The message of shame: You are not good if you didn’t do this thing.) In reality, what we do or don’t do cannot change our worth!!! 

Shame vs. Guilt. I've heard the difference between shame and guilt be explained like this: "Guilt is 'I did something bad.' Shame is 'I am bad.'" I like this explanation and want to take it a bit further. Yes, shame attacks your identity. Guilt does not. While guilt tells us that we did something that wounded our spirit, shame tells us that we are bad or worthless. 

To take this further, shame moves us away from God. Guilt is designed to move us towards God.

In the scriptures and temple, we learn that Satan used shame as one of his first tactics with Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. He told Adam and Eve to hide from God. Even though again and again, the Lord asks us to “come unto Him” not to hide from Him. Satan’s tactic with shame is often the same today! Shame tells us to hide from God. Shame is never helpful and is not from God. On the other hand, guilt is like feeling a spiritual wound. It’s a feeling that tells us “Go to God. He can help.” 

I had an experience with my daughter recently that taught me about shame and how we can create a safe space by eliminating shame. My daughter Emily is an excellent climber. Generally, parents put things on high shelves that they want to keep away from their children (things like medicine, delicate items, etc). In our house, putting something on a high shelf just gives Emily an extra fun challenge. She’s a problem solver. And rather than ask for help, she knows she can climb any cabinet or shelf to get what she wants at the top. For a while now, I’ve reacted strongly to this behavior. When I have caught her at the top shelf grabbing cereal or vitamins, I’ve been so terrified that I’ve shouted, “Emily! Get down from there! What are you doing?” Interestingly enough, after doing this several times, Emily did not stop climbing shelves but instead started to hide the behavior from me. When a box of cereal spilled from the top shelf because she had tried to climb and grab it, she came to me and said, “Mom, the cereal jiggled and fell off the shelf by itself.” She's young, so she doesn't realize that that explanation defies all the laws of physics.

I realized that she was learning to lie to me (or to hide her behavior from me) because of my strong and harsh reactions to her. She was afraid of coming to me and telling me the truth when she made a mistake (like spilling cereal everywhere). I promised her that if she would tell me the truth, I would do my very best not to yell at her or talk loudly anymore. Since then, I’ve gotten better at saying “Thanks for telling me the truth, Emily. I love you.” And more and more she comes to me and asks for help or tells me the truth instead of hiding. When I am soft, kind, and gentle, she tells me the truth and feels safe with me. 

Heavenly Father is this way with us. Never once, no matter what terrible thing I’ve done, have I come to Heavenly Father and had him say, “How could you? What’s wrong with you? Why would you do this to me?” (This is a voice of shame.) Instead He responds gently with an increase of love. “Thank you for coming to me. I love you. I’m here to help.” 

Shame does not change behavior. Unconditional love and the Savior can change behaviors. 

We can let go of “shoulds” and lovingly embracing where we and others are at. I learned from an Marriage and Family Therapy graduate student that she considers “should” to be practically a curse word. We’re learning to eliminate it from how we talk to ourselves and each other in our home. (example: writing this talk. “I should fast, I should go to the temple, I should prepare in a quiet, sacred place.” Reality: “I have a sick baby on my lap and my kids are watching cartoons right next to me so I can prepare this talk. And that’s okay. I’m being a disciple of Christ by doing my best.”)

Letting go of "shoulds" includes letting go of what you can’t control, which includes “feeling the Spirit.” We can’t control how we feel or experience things. We can only control our actions and who we choose to be. I've had to learn this because at times I am unable to feel the Spirit due to my mental illness. I'm learning to be a disciple of Christ even when I don’t “feel it.”

You don’t need to scare or shame yourself into being “good.” You are here! You love the Lord! You are doing what you need to do already. So allow yourself to be a safe space for yourself and others by treating yourself and others with kindness and mercy. Choose now to stop shaming yourself and instead encourage and love yourself. 

 

3.     We can be Kind to Ourselves. 

 

I intentionally chose not to say “Be Joyful.” We often talk about being joyful in the church. We have the restored gospel! We have eternal truths and covenants! So we often think "He's given us all of that. We have no right to not be happy. We should be joyful all the time." (The bad word! "should"!) Though I do believe the gospel of Jesus Christ offers lasting and eternal joy, the truth is that we don’t have control over how we feel or which emotions we experience here in mortality! 

We don’t have control over whether a day feels good or bad, whether we wake up feeling excited and positive or depleted and discouraged. But we do have control over how we treat ourselves and others. 

What if, even on the bad days, we allowed ourselves to feel whatever feelings came (like disappointment or frustration), yet still treated ourselves with unconditional kindness. What we feel isn’t a reflection of who we are (whether we are good or bad). Feeling bad doesn't mean you are bad. Feeling is just part of being a human. And all feelings are acceptable and valid.

Example: when we pray and we feel Heavenly Father say, “Thank you for being here,” not “I don’t want your negativity!” 

This goes along with what we’ve already talked about. Being authentic, not expecting perfection, being a safe space for ourselves and others by eliminating shame–these are ways we can be kind to ourselves. But one more thing about being kind to ourselves:

What if we set gospel-centered goals that encouraged and inspired us instead of discouraged us?  What if our goals were so simple and doable that we set ourselves up for success and encouragement?

My experience with family scripture study and “Come Follow Me”: By the time “Come Follow Me” came out, I was deep into perfectionism. Instead of being excited for a new resource and study guide, I felt “Great, another way for me to fail the Lord and disappoint Him.” How sad! This feeling was evidence of shame and perfectionism in my life. 

For a while, I remained paralyzed by the fear of failure. I imagined having family gatherings where our children sat quietly on the couch and listened as we read the scriptures, then contributed to meaningful discussions–and didn't fight or jump or do anything kid-ish. Oh, and there would be child-friendly activities which I had preplanned and prepared. And freshly baked cookies. It would be "perfect." And impossible. 

When my husband and I were finally able to let go of the “should” mindset (We should be able to keep our three tiny kids sitting peacefully and quietly on the couch while we read scriptures for half an hour with meaningful discussion and cute hand-prepared activities for the kids and fresh cookies), we had an idea.

Instead of baking cookies and preparing crafts that our kids would destroy, we printed a verse of scripture, slapped it on the wall with some scotch tape, and read the same scripture with the kids every night for a month!

It was a simple but achievable goal for us for family scripture study. And letting go of my shame around not being able to “do it all” allowed me to find joy in doing this simple thing with my kids each day.

Our goal wasn’t to memorize. Just to read a scripture together as a family each day. And putting it on the wall made it easier for us. 

The result: Our kids have each memorized 5+ versus of scripture! This was unintentional, and I consider it a miracle. This is the way the Lord works. We give what we can do, even if it feels like a widow’s mite. We do something small, not knowing what the result will be, but having faith that even if it's small, it can make a difference. And the Lord makes that effort into something beautiful, no matter how small or simple our offering is. He doesn’t expect perfection. He just wants us to be with Him and experience Him in our lives. 

 

 

I know that God loves us. Every single one of us. We cannot earn His love. His love simply exists because He created us and we are His. We can let go of the idea of earning our worth or earning His love and instead enjoy the unconditional love He offers us each day. We can be disciples of Christ by being with Him. Doing good things can help us to be with Him, but what we do doesn't earn us more love or more value. Being with Jesus–not trying to make ourselves perfect by accomplishing lists of to-do's–is what will eventually allow us to be whole and have everlasting joy with Him.

It's a monster.

 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. 

Pure O Voices: Invisible Battles

"Pure O is a form of OCD marked by intrusive, unwanted, and uncontrollable thoughts (or obsessions). While someone experiencing Pure O may not engage in obvious behaviors related to their intrusive thoughts, such as counting, arranging, or hand-washing, the disorder is instead accompanied by hidden mental rituals."

https://www.verywellmind.com/pure-o-primarily-obsessional-ocd-4159144

The Struggles:

I like to talk about my surface level obsessions, like the time I obsessed about hedgehogs for about 5 days straight, day and night. Or worse, the time I couldn't stop obsessing about snakes for 3 weeks (now I have nightmares about snakes). Because even though it's vulnerable, it's a lot less vulnerable than other distressing parts of OCD.

 Sometimes I just feel like a worthless piece of baloney. 

I need to repent. I don't deserve friends. I'm not enough for God. 

I think everyone knows what it feels like to be physically sick. But being mentally sick is hard to put into words. 

It's those days that you feel like you don't deserve friends. Because you wake up from disturbing dreams and have disturbing thoughts during the day. OCD makes you feel like you just have to avoid all people. But avoiding people makes it worse. The thoughts tell me that I'm not good enough or clean enough to be with my friends. No matter how joyful and grateful you are in your marriage, SO OCD and ROCD tell you "Well, what if you cheat?" and so you want to avoid people to make sure that doesn't happen. You overanalyze all of your interactions with people, because your relationship is too important to let any hint of unfaithfulness enter your life. 

OCD targets the things that are most important to you and then corrupts them. And it's hard to brush those thoughts and feelings off. Even though you know they're baloney 

It's those days you reach for your scriptures (which used to be the greatest source of comfort in your life), but then cringe inside before you even touch them, and feel "I'm not ready today." 

Religious OCD makes you feel so weak. Like your attempts to connect with God are so insignificant. And then the feelings of inadequacy and guilt become associated with living your faith, and it gets harder to enjoy the things you once enjoyed about worship. 

Religious OCD is cringing inside when someone talks about a conference talk/spiritual message they read (Why am I cringing?? I love conference talks!) because you feel guilty for not having read the same talk. 

Religious OCD is walking to your Sunday school class, standing in the doorway, then walking away because the guilty feelings are already starting to creep up inside you and twist your stomach into a knot. 

Religious OCD is hearing people say, "I'm so excited for the temples (one of our most special places of worship) to open up again (after COVID-19 had them closed)" and feeling terrible for not having felt the same way. Hearing "Hopefully the temples will be opening soon." and feeling guilt wash over me that I'll never be able to go to the temple enough. (I used to go to the temple every single week just because I loved it so much! But now thinking about going inside causes anxiety.) 

Religious OCD is preferring to sit to pray instead of kneel to pray. Because every time my knees hit the ground, a kid asks for help. And then feeling guilty for not kneeling. 

The Lessons:

Struggling with HOCD and ROCD has taught me that I can talk to my husband about anything, and he will love me unconditionally. And as soon as I'm able to get the fears out in the open with him, a sense of safety and peace wrap around me, and I know that things will be okay. I feel closer to him, safer with him, and am increasingly more grateful for my marriage and my sweet husband. 

Struggling with HOCD has taught me that I need friends. 

"Wherefore by their ^afruits ye shall know them." Matthew 7:20, the Bible 

Instead of ruminating about things (like thinking I need to avoid people), I can move forward with faith and experience things. Like being with friends. Then I feel the goodness of being there with them, and I am reassured that everything is okay.

Struggling with Religious OCD (Scrupulosity) has taught me so much! Since understanding and learning about Religious OCD, I have found that I am able to enjoy my faith once again. 

I am learning to extend mercy to myself. 

Somedays I know that I'm not ready to read the scriptures, but the Lord tells me in my heart "That's okay, Daughter. Maybe today you can just think of Me." (In our church, there is a lot of emphasis on studying scripture. It is an important daily ritual for us.) Or somedays I'm feeling up for a little more, and He tells me, "Maybe today you can just hold the scriptures in your hands while you think of your favorite verse." And when I do those little, tiny, seemingly-insignifacnt things, I feel an outpouring of His love. And I am blown away by His mercy, grace, and GOODNESS. I stand amazed that He loves me and blesses me, even when I am so weak and incapable. He makes me strong. He fills me with joy and gratitude, meaning and purpose. 

My Lord redeems me from all things difficult, whether my fault or not. 

Religious OCD has taught me to come to know the Lord on a deeper level. To trust Him on a deeper level. To let Him prevail in my life more fully.

The Lord loves broken things. 

Because the cracks give space for His light to fill us. 

And being filled by Him feels better than being filled by anything else. 

I'm so grateful for the chance to learn about Him. To experience Him in a way that is deeply personal and significant. 

I think it is beautiful that every single one of us has a completely unique life and personality. And that He desires to be our personal Teacher. He teaches us in ways that no one else can. He can make every unfair thing into something that will bless our lives. I can't say enough about Him. 

* I like to share my experiences because there are many people who are deeply affected and deeply suffering because their OCD struggles are so intense and too difficult to share. My heart aches for those who struggle more than I do. My struggles are hard, but I can't begin to imagine the depth of pain and loneliness that some OCD strugglers experience. I hope to bring awareness to their situations (as well as to everyone who struggles in anyway). 

How OCD and Anxiety Feel (For Me)

 I feel like I'm being hunted. My heart races. My chest feels tight. My mind spirals. But where do I run? There's no where to go when the monster is inside of your head. 

OCD feels like a monster in my head. But the weird thing is that the monster doesn't look bad. It looks good. The monster is wearing a pristine, ironed outfit—somewhat old-fashioned and traditional in style, but in a way that feels "right." The monster's whole appearance has a certain rightness that I will never achieve. The monster's hair is tightly pulled back in a bun—no stray hairs, no cowlicks, nothing out of place. 

The monster looks friendly. It looks righteous. It looks good. It looks like the person I'll never be. Sometimes the monster feels good too. Maybe because it's always there. It's reliable. It's consistent.

But even though the monster looks good, when I stop to think about it, in brief moments I realize that the monster doesn't treat me well. Those moments don't last long though. In an instant I forget the criticism, the belittling, the constant nagging... And I convince myself the monster is good and worth paying attention to. Why? I don't know. Probably because the monster embodies all of the things I'm supposed to be but never will be.

OCD feels like I'm never enough. It's so real. So convincing. And so...normal. I'm not sure what my mind would feel like without it there. Is it not normal to have a voice inside your head that constantly belittles you, tells you you aren't enough, convinces you you should be doing more? More of what I'm not sure... Maybe just more of whatever is unachievable and out of reach. 

The consequence of not listening to the monster? It's bad. BAD. Whatever will happen if I don't listen to the monster—although I can't quite put into words what that thing is that is sure to happen—I FEAR it. I fear what will happen if I don't listen to the monster. The monster almost always tells me what to do. 

The monster tells me how to be a better mom. Then it tells me that my efforts were not enough. And I should try something totally different. Because maybe I can still redeem my pathetic attempts. First I'm supposed to be a better housekeeper. When that doesn't work, I'm supposed to give up on housekeeping altogether and do something else that I might succeed at. (But who knows what that is! The monster isn't very good at explaining things. And when it tries to explain, its logic ends up as a blur between perfect sense and complete nonsense—I'm usually not sure which it really is.)

OCD is spending one day trying to be present, happy, and involved as a mother. Then spending the next day guilty brainwashing myself by pursuing some kind of bizarre obsession, hoping it will distract me from the pain of failure and inadequacy. 

OCD is feeling like you need to cry... but all the cry is stuck in a bottle, and you can't get the cork off the top to let it out. It's just stuck inside, bouncing around, turning into ferocious anxiety that might eat you if you do end up getting that cork off.

OCD and anxiety feel like desperately needing connection, but fearing anything that might actually make that connection possible. Like seeing people. Or talking to someone. 

OCD is intense fear of being present. And feeling completely incapable of being present. All while craving mindfulness like some kind of illegal sustenance. Mindfulness is the thing you need and the thing you can't have. It's the thing you fear and the deepest desire that feels like it will fill the emptiness. 

OCD tells me that if I don't do that one thing (what that thing is changes frequently), my life will be unfulfilling, and all the good things that I have done that aren't that one thing will be pointless. 

It feels like there are a lot of invisible monsters in today's world. Monsters that you as an individual might deal with everyday, that no-one else seems to see. But maybe by shining some light on our monster's ugly faces, we'll be able to make more sense of them, see them for what they are, and then walk past them without giving them what they want—our unhappiness. 

In contrast to those invisible monsters lurking in the shadows, I believe in angels. Angels that are fighting battles with us. Angels that shine light at those monsters and tell them to get lost. Angels that sit and listen when we need to talk. Angels that put their arms around us. Angels that say, "I'm brining you dinner."  Angels that are hard to recognize at first glance. Angels who are invisible, or who are visible, but look like an ordinary person—a cherished friend, a loving family member, a friendly neighbor. And angels who we can't see, but if we could see, we might recognize as an ancestor. 

In the times we feel alone, I know we are not alone. That doesn't mean it doesn't feel lonely, but it means there is hope. There is friendship. There is love, acceptance, and peace. If not in the moment, the good things will come eventually. It's okay to let hard moments be hard. We are here on the earth to experience the good and the bad. And without the bad, the good wouldn't be as gloriously sweet. 

OCD—Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

 

Until recently, I only thought of "OCD" as an expression of speech—like when someone straightens out a picture frame and says, "I had to fix it. I'm kinda OCD." 

But now those three letters, O.C.D., mean a lot more to me. Right now they mean "hope." Hope for understanding and connection.

For years I've wished I had  a way of describing and explaining the mental struggles I experience. Therapists have been puzzled by the things I've explained to them. Sometimes my experiences seem funny to others, including myself. And my loving family members have been confused by my experiences too. 

But recently I've been learning more about OCD, and I'm excited to keep learning. I'm excited for my first appointment with a therapist who specializes in OCD and anxiety. At least I think I'm excited...if excitement feels like a mixture of insecurity, embarrassment, hope, happiness, desire to learn, impatience, and peace. 

Based on what I've learned recently, OCD can be much different than what most of us instantly think of when we hear that all too casually used acronym. 

When most of us hear obsessive compulsive disorder, we think of someone who can't stop organizing their bedroom, can't stop cleaning their kitchen, or always has to have their school supplies sitting on their desk in a specific pattern. These all could be symptoms of OCD—but not always. And for those who do have compulsions to wash hands, organize or clean, it's no joke. For someone with OCD, they can't just straighten the picture frame and then feel relief. It's not just "Oh, that was an OCD moment. Now it's fixed." The way we often joke about OCD makes it seem like a positive attribute—a way of describing someone who is exceptionally neat and tidy, or who always seems to have everything "perfect." But for someone who actually has obsessive compulsive disorder, OCD is not a positive descriptive word, it is a disorder. And it's hard. 

I'm learning that many people have had experiences with OCD that are extremely debilitating. Luckily, mine have not been so bad. 

Here are some of my experiences with OCD:

-College was hard. My college experience has been a strange paradox of two things: 1.) being a great student with very good grades and loving school. 2.) feeling completely incapable of ever graduating. In my early college years (in 2011) and even in my recent attempt at going back to school (2019), I have had a frequent and reoccurring pattern. First, something triggers anxiety—maybe an assignment, worrying about staying up late to finish something, etc. Next, the anxiety starts to spiral out of control. I start to question all of my decisions about what major I chose. I begin to frantically research different majors, feeling like I might have just ruined my life by choosing the wrong major. How could I ever possibly graduate with THIS major? I wouldn't be able to live a happy life and pursue my dreams on this path. If I do this major, I'll never get to follow these other dreams. Etc, etc, etc. These obsessive thoughts overwhelm me and fill me with uncertainty. The next thing I know, I'm changing my major. Because with OCD, you often perform a compulsive action in an attempt to calm your racing, obsessive thoughts. So, I'll fill out online forms to change to a different major, sometimes requiring signatures from the heads of certain departments. I'll complete all the necessary steps as quickly as possible. But with OCD, the compulsive behavior does not relieve the obsession (and accompanying anxiety). So, as soon as the change would go through, I'd have the thoughts again. What was I thinking? I'll never finish school if I change majors. I'd better change back! Everything felt URGENT. Sometimes I'd change my major 2 or 3 times in one day (perhaps all within just a few hours). I'd call my mom, feeling frantic, and she'd try to help talk me through it. 

-When I touch certain things, especially chemicals for cleaning, I feel them on my hands, even after washing several times. I have to wash many times before forgetting the feeling. 

-I always check that my door is locked a couple times (car door or house door), even after locking it. I have to push the "lock" button for my car several times (at least 4ish), probably annoying the neighbors with the beep beep beep beeeeeeeep. 

-I am constantly counting certain things. Whenever I go anywhere I constantly count the items in my purse. Wallet, Phone, Keys. Wallet, Phone, Keys. Okay. Then after a few minutes I check again. And again. And again. I will count them every few minutes until I get home and put my purse back down in its spot. When I'm checking out at the store I have to make sure all my cards are in my wallet (sometimes while standing at the cash register area and with people waiting in line behind me to check out). Then as I walk away from the register, I usually unzip my wallet and check again to make sure I actually did put my debit card back in it. I might check again in the car too.

-When I buy new clothes I have to count them whenever I go to my closet. 4 jeans, 5 shirts. 4 jeans, 5 shirts. 

-When I'm walking and see a rock in the sidewalk, I worry that if I don't move it then a kid will ride a scooter, hit the rock, and get seriously injured. I also worry that if I don't pick up a piece of trash, a bird will choke on it and die. One symptom of OCD is to worry that you will cause harm to others by not doing something. You get the feeling that just by neglecting to act on an obsessive thought, something bad will happen. 

-I check the stove knobs again and again to make sure that they aren't turned slightly on and are letting gas fill our house. I always check these before bed (regardless of how recently I checked or how many times I checked during the day), as well as making sure there aren't things that could catch fire nearby the toaster. 

-I've struggled with religious OCD (scrupulosity) for much of my life without ever realizing it. As a kid I felt responsible for my family's spiritual well-being. I felt like the solution to almost any problem was more scripture study and more prayer. Instead of hanging out with my family in the living room, I often felt the need to go outside and study scriptures for hours. This was often enjoyable and I'm glad I had those experiences studying and praying as a teenager, but now I also realize that there were OCD behaviors involved. Part of religious OCD can be perfectionism, or feeling like God is harsh and judgmental, rather than loving and forgiving. I experienced those feelings as a new mother. Somehow my mind shifted from "God loves me and I like connecting with him through my worship" to "if I don't pray, my kids might get seriously hurt when I go outside" or just an impending feeling of bad things happening if I didn't study scriptures. I often set a moral standard for myself that was higher than my church's actual moral standard. I made up rules that I thought I needed to follow that weren't actually commandments or expectations from my church (like thinking I needed to be a traditional mother and that if I wanted to do things other than cook, clean, and raise kids I wouldn't be a good mom, or thinking that if I tried to finish school it wouldn't be pleasing to God and would affect my family in seriously detrimental ways). I thought God expected all of these things from me, even though I now realize He didn't. It was my OCD that was putting those expectations and that pressure on me. 

-I have OCD tendencies around technology. Sometimes technology bothers me SO much. I remember wishing I could smash our family computer as a kid because I felt I (or someone else) had spent too much time on it. My anxiety often gets triggered when my husband pulls out his laptop to work on something. It's just a weird thing! I have some kind of rule in my mind about computers. Internally I have rules about how long is too long to be on the computer. 

-I love animals, and many of my recent OCD struggles have been focused on certain animal species. We adopted Guinea Pigs about a year ago. I had to have a pet. I just knew it would solve all of my problems. But even after getting two Guinea Pigs (I loved them!), I still couldn't stop obsessing about how to take care of them. I spent hours researching. I started to think that in order to have a good life, they needed to live in a small herd. I was able to rescue two more Guinea Pigs. I was convinced that they would be so much happier if all four Guinea Pigs could live together in one habitat rather than in two separate habitats. I spent hours and hours and hours and days and days and days learning how to properly introduce Guinea Pigs to each other, then trying to introduce my Guinea Pigs to each other in the perfect setting. When it didn't work time and time again, I was very discouraged. Even depressed. I think I cried about it. During the process of trying to make them an ideal habitat, I even converted a metal shelf we had been using for other things into a Giant Guinea Pig cage. Then I decided I needed to buy the right supplies to make a better cage. I was willing to sell anything I owned to buy the supplies. I would go to department stores just so I could stare at the supplies I needed. 

-One of my worst animal OCD experiences was with snakes. I've always loved animals, but never had been very interested in or comfortable with snakes. I can't remember what triggered it, but several months ago  I got intensely interested in snakes. For three entire weeks I could not stop thinking about snakes, both day and night. I would go to sleep thinking about snakes, dream about snakes, then wake up thinking about snakes. I needed a snake. I spent hours a day researching them. I even found exactly what snake I wanted to buy. My husband is sooo good. He has helped me so much. He suggested we wait on the snake for a little while. After all, we'd be having a new baby soon and it was a busy phase of life. He was concerned that once the baby was born I wouldn't be too happy about having to feed a snake, etc. I didn't believe him, but I trusted him and tried to wait. It was painful. I still couldn't stop thinking about snakes, and I felt I would never be able to stop thinking about them until we bought one. Thankfully the phase eventually passed, and now I'm grateful I don't currently have a snake. 

-I've also had obsessive phases with cats and dogs, where if it weren't for my sweet husband, I would have compulsively adopted animals that I was allergic too and didn't have time or money to take care of.

-After having kids, I would get up frequently at night to check on them, always putting my hand by their mouth or nose to check that they were still breathing. I'm finally starting to get better at sleeping through the night without worrying, but I still check on them quite a bit. 

-After publishing my first book, Luna's Rescue, my excitement evolved. Before I knew it I couldn't stop thinking about it, and it was exhausting. All day long for days my mind would be running a million miles a minute, wondering if I made a spelling error, whether I should change the margins or spacing, wondering if people would like it, worried that people wouldn't, obsessing over how to improve the alignment of the cover, etc. I spent a lot of time obsessively checking for errors again and again. Within a day or two of publishing my excitement had turned to exhausting anxiety and I just wished I could turn my brain off, but I didn't know how. 

-I'm getting much better at this, but for quite a while as a new mom I had a fear of getting interested in something. I would never take any time to do something for myself as a mom. I couldn't relax. I couldn't enjoy myself.  For the first several years after being a mom, I was afraid to have interests. I was afraid that if I got interested in something that I would become obsessed with it and then abandon my family in pursuit of this interests (hobby, job, etc). *interestingly, people who have OCD often have obsessions about their worst fears (leaving their family, leaving their religion, etc), but people with OCD are actually extremely unlikely to actually do the things they are afraid of doing. (Often, people with OCD are people who are sensitive and care very deeply about people, their faith, etc. Unfortunately, they are sometimes plagued with constant worries about betraying the things they love most.) 

-When I got courage as a new mom to try getting back into a hobby, I started horseback riding. It felt impossible to not obsess about it. Eventually I was convinced I needed a horse if I wanted to have a good life. I would cry when I realized it would take years to save up enough for a horse. I couldn't like horses and not be all in. It felt like all or nothing were the only options (that's how most things are for me). So, like many other interests, I tried to just stop liking horses altogether. I figured it would be better to completely forget I ever liked horses than to like them. Because liking them and occasionally getting to be around them would just leave me obsessing 24/7, leaving me unable to focus on taking care of my kids or enjoying anything else in life.

***This is a common compulsion for those with OCD: The compulsion is to avoid something that you have obsessions about (or might have obsessions about.)

Some mothers also experience postpartum OCD (just like how some moms experience postpartum anxiety or postpartum depression). I believe that my OCD changed with postpartum and with the change of my life circumstances and routine. After having kids I had pretty intense religious OCD for quite a while. I had fears about bad things happening to my kids all the time. I also avoided getting together with people sometimes because of my fears. I felt so different than other people. 

I'm so grateful for what I'm learning. I'm in a much healthier place today than I have been in a long time. It feels so good! 

 If you struggle with any of these things or think you might have OCD or anxiety, I'd love to connect. I'm looking forward to having a support group of friends.