Hi everyone,
Long time no hear I know. I’ve been meaning to update the blog for a long time but time has run away with me and I never quite knew where to start. However, it’s the end of OCD Awareness week today and I have a new laptop (woo hoo) so today seemed an apt today to let you all know what has been happening on this crazy journey we call life.
Logging back into the blog was quite a revelation, old blog posts reminding me of my suffering, comments from lovely readers and one lady who just posted very directly “are you happy?” See the short answer on my reply to her comment if you’re in a rush but for my longer musings make yourself comfortable.
Overall, what I think people really want to know is did I get better from OCD? In a nutshell the answer is yes. I had long and intensive months of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) with Exposure Response Prevention (ERP). I had to record myself saying my worst fears aloud and listen to them on repeat until my anxiety died down, I had to write scripts featuring my worst case scenarios and I had to change a nappy with no one else in the room. I’ve tried homeopathic remedies (and vomited them straight back up again because my anxiety was too high to keep them down), I’ve taken mindfulness courses and sat in fear on meditation retreats. I’ve done yoga, tai chi, gardening and had shiatsu (if you tell me it’s relaxing I’ll probably try it).
Slowly but surely things began to change. These things are gradual and recovery certainly doesn’t announce itself with a showy, jazzy entrance but slowly the shell of me began to be filled in again. I laughed more freely, made eye contact with those I love, and saw friends again. My jaw didn’t hurt so much from gritting my teeth, I ate food and kept it down. Days came and went and I realised that I wasn’t just counting the hours for another long day to be over. Sometimes a new day didn’t seem so terrible to consider.
Months turned into years and suddenly I felt able to quit my job and go travelling. I travelled for a year in South East Asia doing things that once would have felt hard to consider. My days are no longer filled with endless seeking for answers and so paradoxically I notice my thoughts less. I tell people I have fewer intrusive thoughts whereas I suspect the reality is I have just as many but they do not hold the same significance for me anymore.
So am I happy? None of us are happy all the time. I have happy days and sad days, I have calm days and grumpy days. My life is full of the grey; no longer just the black and white and it turns out grey isn’t such a bleak colour after all. I still get intrusive thoughts (because we all do) but now I can observe them and sometimes even laugh at them. In Singapore, in a launderette, whilst I watched my clothes flying around and around a thought planted its roots in my mind. A visual image of me stripping in front of all the local people and being arrested by the strict Singaporean police for some kind of gross indecency. There was no wave of nausea, no fretting about what it meant just guffawing that my OCD had brought to the table such a bizarre offering. Our OCD is nothing if not creative.
I still do my exposures and I have accepted that recovery is not linear but it’s a voice that I no longer listen to quite so fervently.
It became a whisper when I began to roar.