Beauty in Frustration

Sometimes things don't feel beautiful.  

Like right now (after midnight) when the 8-month-old is crying again and not learning this whole self soothing trick like I want her to.

Or when a kid vomits in the van for the second time in three days.

Or when someone falls out of bed and hits his head on a piece of furniture.  The immediate goose egg, frantic call to the pediatrician, and checking him through the night do not feel beautiful.

Or when I wake up in the morning counting the hours until nap time because I'm so exhausted from being up with the baby.

Or when a preschooler pulls the stopper in the sink drain, turns the water on, and floods the bathroom.

Scrupulosity and Scripture

Scrupulosity

Ah, scrupulosity.  Religious OCD.  Scrupulosity has been part of my journey for a LONG time (you can read about my experiences with scrupulosity here).  But it definitely did not start with me.  In fact, the OCD Workbook (which I highly recommend for learning about the illness) suggests that Martin Luther and John Bunyan, giants in the Christian faith, also most likely suffered from scrupulosity.

Among other obsessions and compulsions, the Bible and sharing it with others has been a focus of my OCD.  Exposure Response Prevention (ERP) is the key to changing our OCD brains, so here goes.

Baby Kisses and Joy

Baby girl is at my favorite stage of babyhood - almost 8 months old.  She (mostly) sleeps through the night, isn't quite crawling, is very expressive and loves to interact with people.  She's trying to figure things out - words, eating solid foods (she barely tolerates them), and grasping things with her chubby little hands.  But one of the best things that she has started doing is doling out sweet mouth-wide-open kisses that leave all manner of slobber on my cheek.  Sometimes, when I'm in the midst of difficulty, this simple, best little gesture in the world can bring me so much joy.

What have you found brings you joy in the midst of suffering?  

Sharing Authentically

A conversation happened this week that surprised me.  An acquaintance that I hardly know bared her soul.  I mean, bared her soul.  Betrayal in her marriage, infertility, addiction, counseling...and her "crazy high anxiety."

Sometimes I get so deep inside my own head that I don't remember that others are also suffering.  Some with mental illness like me, and some in other ways.  (You can see my story in the post My Mental Health Story: A Timeline or on The OCD Stories website.)

Whenever I have been in the suffering valley, God has always rescued me and comforted me throughout the season of suffering.  And even though mental illness is still a daily struggle for me, I am not without hope.

The purpose of this blog is to candidly share my struggles and victories with mental illness as a Christ-follower.  I want blogging to help me grow personally and to help fellow sufferers along their own journeys.  In order to accomplish this, I am blogging under the pen name "A.J. Michaels."  The only other person who knows the true identity of A.J. Michaels is my husband.  Writing under a pen name allows me to write more honestly about my mental illness than if I used my real name.  I'm not quite ready to share these thoughts with people in my every day life - maybe eventually, but not yet.

I do look forward to walking this journey together with you.

God bless,
AJ

Time and Tide Wait for No Man

I colored in public today.  In a coloring book.  The only people I've actually seen coloring in public are preschoolers, but I didn’t really care.  My fellow patients in the very busy dentist's office waiting room may have given me weird looks, but I was too busy coloring in those flower petals to notice.

Because today has been a rough day.  Not super, super rough or debilitating…just kind of rough where the intrusive thoughts enter my brain and just linger there for awhile.  I really want to make them go away, but they just hang out.  

One of my weird obsessions is time.  Obsessions and compulsions can be about absolutely anything, and time and I have a complicated relationship.  I almost don’t want to even write about this because I’m afraid it might make it worse, but here goes.

A Letter to my Mental Illness

Dear Mental Illness,

You don't own me.  I don't belong to you, and I don't really like you all that much.  I know I'm supposed to start a letter with something positive, but with all the turmoil you've caused in my brain and my life, I don't really feel like being nice to you.

You color everything I love, and even the things I don't.  You make my brain so ACTIVE; it's like a radar just circling around and around searching for something to obsess over.  That's the tricky thing about you.  Your paintbrush can swipe over any part of my life at any time.  Sometimes you keep me from focusing on my responsibilities, or you make it extremely difficult for me to feel calm.  You strike fear in me over anything - my relationship with God, my kids, my husband, myself.  Where did you even come from?  I have a great life!  No severe trauma.  A great family.  A strong education.  Healthy kids.  A house.  A dog.  A wonderful husband.  A relationship with Jesus.  So, seriously.  Why did you feel the need to make yourself at home in my brain?!  Couldn't you have just stayed out?

Mountaintops and Valleys

OCD is unique.  It tends to ebb and flow, and depending on the success of treatment - usually medication and cognitive behavioral therapy/exposure response prevention - sufferers can spend a lot of time either in the valley or on the mountaintop.  I've spent seasons in both places (you can see a timeline of my mental health story here), and I most definitely prefer the mountaintop!

The Valley
Because that OCD valley is deep.  I mean, really, really deep.  So deep that it's hard to even see the mountaintop anymore.  Every second is hard, and is that mountaintop even real?  All I can focus on are those obsessive thoughts and how I'll never be able to beat this huge wolf of OCD.  I know that I need to eat to keep up my strength (especially with breastfeeding the baby), but I'm just not hungry.  The diarrhea isn't helping, and neither is the fact that I'm waking up way too early every morning with racing thoughts and physical side effects of the anxiety.  Will it always be like this?  I can't even remember what joy and hope feel like.

The Mountaintop
But that glorious mountaintop!  Life is so, so good, and I'm finally living like everybody else!  Those pesky intrusive thoughts still come, but overall I'm able to resist the really bad compulsions (I just give in a little bit!).  I can see and enjoy and thank God for the blessings that He has given me.  There's so much to focus on and get done - My writing!  My physical health!  My kids!  My friendships!  My house!  My finances!  My marriage!  My spiritual life!  I love feeling accomplished and being with people - these things make me feel alive!  Valley?  What valley?  Oh, that valley!  Yeah, I was down there for a little bit, but I can hardly remember what that felt like.  I know it was hard, but I have so much to do now, and I don't really want to think about it.  My OCD is okay.  I'm just giving in a little bit, so it's manageable.

My Pattern

• MOUNTAINTOP: The mental illness is very manageable.  Thankfully, this is most of the time.

• VALLEY: 
• Giving in to the compulsions brings more intrusive trigger thoughts which bring more compulsions which bring more anxiety which brings more trigger thoughts...compulsions...anxiety...depression...you get the idea.  What was manageable is no longer manageable and becomes almost unbearable.  What if this time my thoughts AREN'T a result of the mental illness?  What if this is something I actually need to think/worry about?
• I desperately seek help from my support system (husband, mom, counselor, friends).
• We increase medication (if necessary), and I work HARD on the cognitive behavioral therapy and exposure response prevention.  It's amazing how many intrusive thoughts bombard my brain during this time.  I'm sure it's the same amount as before I start the CBT and ERP, but when I am able to actually identify them?  There are so, so many.
• I start feeling better and am able to see the illness as an illness instead of wondering if these intrusive thoughts are what I actually think.
• Good days and bad days.  At first I feel good for only snippets at a time.  And then it becomes almost full days.  (This is where I am right now.)

• MOUNTAINTOP: Back to normal - enjoying life!

Bottom Line
Every time I've been in the valley, God has rescued me and brought me back to the mountaintop.  This gives me hope!