Light On My Shadow

1 Throwing Light on My Shadow Thousands of people have this disorder. Unfortunately, a significant portion of the people affected by the disease never realizes the source of their problems; it interferes with their lives in ways ranging from inconvenient to extremely disruptive. OCD – Obsessive Compulsive Disorder – is a mental disorder recognized by the medical community. When the sufferer is fortunate, a combination of treatments manages their OCD; typically, this combination includes medication and therapy. When these treatments do not work, OCD can completely take over a person’s life. Today, ten years after my own diagnosis, I not only understand the part OCD plays in my life, I continue to work at throwing light on one of the shadows in my life. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is comprised of two main components: obsessive thoughts and compulsive actions. In the obsessive-compulsive cycle, the thoughts come first. Obsessive thoughts are often violent or sexually inappropriate; there are seldom actual logical triggers for these thoughts. At one point in time, “obsession” was the term used to describe the visitation of demons whose purpose was to induce the one visited to perform some sinful action. From personal experience, I completely understand the desire to assume such thoughts had to come from outside one’s own mind. Thinking I could even consider some of the things I have thought, trapped me for a long time in a spiral of guilt. The second part of the cycle is the compulsive action. These actions are specific in both what happens and how many times the action occurs. In this part of the cycle, numbers are very important. Once is almost never enough in the OCD world; sometimes no amount of repetition helps. Where does OCD come from? To my knowledge, no one is certain. Based on the medications and therapies that alleviate the symptoms, OCD, as many serious mental

2 disorders, is a hardware problem. Our brains are marvelous, extremely complex memory and computing “machines,” special machines, driven by our wills and souls. Sometimes the myriad of connections that normally happen, correctly, in the proper order, simply do not occur. My OCD, my shadow, is a subtle fellow. I am an organizer; most people think that is a good thing to be, and to a point it is good. I tend to put things where I think they make sense to me; normally it is a reasonably logical order. Where I run into problems is when I go overboard. Do I really need to sort my clothes by type, sub-type, color, and on color-coded hangers? Do I really need to have a database of every book and movie I own, sorted by genre – with optional sorting by male actor/character, female actor/character, director/author, studio/publisher, and length in minutes/pages? Must things be an exact distance apart on my dresser – without exception – just so I feel safe in my little world? I also must complete things; I must be right, no matter how long that takes. Everything I do must be countable. I seldom keep a journal; I am compelled to write down everything. If I do not write for a few days, I must record everything that happened since the last time I did write. I cannot weigh myself more than once a week or so; if I do, I start weighing two, four, six or more times a day. I do not keep a food diary – that is only asking for trouble. Every mouthful needs counting and, if I miss anything, I am a horrible person and deserve to be fat. My obsessive thoughts are quite often inappropriately sexual ones, with violent thoughts tossed in. I understand why a young mother with OCD is appalled when she has random thoughts of hurting her child. Mine tend to focus on strangers; they are no less disturbing. I went through a long period of blaming myself for the thoughts; it was my mind, therefore they had to be my thoughts. I was a slut, obviously, and was not

3 promiscuous only because my fear of lack of control was stronger than my sexual compulsions. As for the violent ones, I was a horrible sinful creature, with neither morals nor compassion. These spiraling thoughts led me into trouble more than once before I learned how to manage them. My niece has a shirt that reads, “Shut up, brain, or I’ll stab you with a Q-tip.” I spent the first thirty-six years of my life finding ways to shut my brain up. Food and numbers worked the best, typically combined. I remember dumping out a bag of M&Ms on my bed and eating the entire pound, color by color. I could only eat food one specific food at a time; mixing foods on a plate often disgusted me. If I could not control my thoughts, I would control something. I earned my sleep by counting repeatedly to one hundred, by twos, then fours, then fives. Sometimes I would go through the rounds more than once before I could unwind. I was, at the age of thirty-six, finally diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Until two years ago, my treatment consisted mainly of cognitive and behavioral therapy. This was in combination with the medication I already took for my other shadow: Bipolar Affective Disorder. What I learned in therapy was crucial in determining which thoughts were obsessive. Understanding that a destructive thought was not the product of my dwelling on some negative idea, but simply was helped me distance myself from the thought. I could put the thought away from me – rob it of its emotional power. I still might count compulsively at night trying to go to sleep, but the manic phases took priority. Two years ago, I had not had a manic episode in eight years. My doctor decided to risk upsetting the balance of my medications; I started taking clomipramine, a medication used with both OCD and anxiety attacks. After a couple of weeks, I noticed changes: I

4 finally was able to tell when I was hungry; I stopped counting at night; I could let another person finish something I started. I lost weight without “dieting.” It was like coming out a cage whose bars you never noticed before. The combination of therapy and medication helps me remain stable. I am able to function as other people function. By learning my problem’s characteristics, I keep it in perspective. I still have obsessive thoughts; now I know that they are obsessive and can let them go. They still embarrass me but they do not mean I am bad. I am simply a person with OCD. Numbers are still magical to me but now my peace of mind does not depend on them. Instead of ruling me, with knowledge and work I manage my OCD. My shadows still exist, but they seem so much lighter now than ever before.