- User type
- OCD Conqueror
- Date posted
- 51w
Something I Learned About Falling Down
I had a lot of mental stamina before my OCD got severe and I often compare my current state of being to who I was. I especially do this with the recovery I experienced 2 years into ERP. I thought I'd never have to face that terrible suffering again. A lot happened last year and my OCD blew up in my face. It's been difficult, but in a different way than I experienced when first going through OCD. Rather than being moved by desperation to recover, I became apathetic, which scared me even more. But here's what I've learned for myself about recovery apathy and I hope someone finds this helpful, too, because I haven't heard many people really talking about it. - My apathy was actually overwhelm. I had fought hard to overcome OCD and the thought of having to go through that again triggered feelings of hopelessness. Really, in retrospect, I see that it was rooted in a desire to get out of the spiral immediately because what if this ruined all of my progress? - By expecting myself to feel better quickly, I became fixated on monitoring my internal world. I was checking every feeling and sensation I had, and using them to figure out how to escape. The more I did this, however, the more I lost touch with my actual needs and desires. - I began to feel ashamed of myself for slipping and losing myself. I kept telling myself I'd do xyz to get back on top, but either wouldn't follow through, the goals would be too big, or whatever I was aiming for was a means of neutralizing the noise, as I like to call it. When you try to neutralize OCD noise, it just gets louder. - My repeated "fails" and attempts to fix myself amplified my shame and feelings of apathy. I didn't know how to break free or sit with what I was doing to myself. I didn't even know how I was doing it. I felt like all of my OCD knowledge went out the window. - A year into it, I have started to learn that it's all the same. This is also OCD. The noise tells me that I can't get better unless I do x first, I need to pay attention to how I'm feeling to learn how to take care of myself, I need to analyze my thoughts and sort through all the uncertainty. At the core of all of these fear-statements is a little girl who feels unsafe. - I started a journal on my compulsions, opened up to people I trust, and moved towards discomfort. I feel anxious and don't know why? Huh, guess I'll color for a bit and use that as inspiration. I used to love writing but now it feels like an apathetic gridlock? I'll set a timer for 10 minutes and write creatively without editing. I'm scared of being weird at work and being so uncool I'm not well liked? Unfortunate, that's their loss because I'm pretty cool. - I work on building myself up instead of analyzing thoughts about whether or not I'm worthy or loveable. I reconnect to things I loved as a kid. I invite my body to relax instead of forcing it to because I choose to honor how afraid it is after being through so much stress and turmoil. I hug myself and imagine hugging that little girl, and I remind myself that I never need permission to be loved. I go to my fiance when I feel trapped or alone, and when he isn't around, I utilize empty chair exercises where I have an open discussion between myself and those lonely parts of me. - Essentially, I realize that acceptance comes from befriending and normalizing our experiences. Just because others don't understand or don't like us doesn't mean we must feel that way about ourselves. What we experience is just as valid as what anyone else goes through and we don't always like or understand them, yet they treat themselves well. Shame tells us we can't be kind to ourselves, rather we must fix something that's wrong in us. I've learned that the true exposure is to soothe the shame with as many tears, hugs, and hobbies as it takes.