OKAY

Okay

For the last eight and a half years, my biggest fear has been returning to the horrible place in my head where I was after my blood clot: depressed, plagued by negative thoughts intruding into my mind every minute of every day, unable to stop myself from panicking, and basically having no quality of life even though I had friends, family, and plenty to live for.

Every time I felt myself backsliding even a little, I instantly became terrified that I would become “bad off” like I was back then. I watched myself carefully for signs and symptoms of decreasing functionality, and I always felt the need to ask my psychiatrist who guided me through that horrible time in my life if she thought I was heading back in that direction.

Every time, she would always say no. And every time, she - and my family - would tell me that I have much better coping mechanisms now than I did then, and I know what medications help me when I need it most. I would be able to figure it out if it ever happened - not that it ever would.

And then, the puppy incident happened.

When the puppy was in my house, my brain was revving at all hours of the day and night. I wasn’t eating and thanks to the puppy screaming whenever she wasn’t touching me, I wasn’t sleeping. Just like eight years ago, I started to despair that things could get better, as I had intended to raise this puppy and keep her throughout her life. I could feel myself slipping, and I made the difficult but ultimately right choice to return the puppy to a breeder for more specialized physical and mental healthcare.

As soon as the puppy was out of my home, I started to feel a little more relaxed, but I was well aware that I was experiencing a relapse. I hadn’t had a relapse like this in years, and naturally, my mind went to eight years ago and the similarities I couldn’t ignore.

Even though the specific negative thoughts were the same, I was living with many intrusive thoughts making it difficult for me to concentrate on work. My favorite activities felt less fun and I had way too much energy. I started to wonder if things were going to keep deteriorating until I was at that same point I had to work for over a year to claw myself out of.

The next week, I did every coping mechanism I could think of. I built time into my schedule to hang out with my friends. I made sure to eat and sleep as best as I could, even if the sleeping came easier to me. I made time every day to go outside for some fresh air and physical activity. And every time an intrusive thought entered my mind, I told myself that “thoughts are thoughts, not threats” and did my best to move on as quickly as possible.

After a relapse, I always have a harder time being alone, so when the COVID restrictions on Chicago increased, I returned home once again. By that time - the following weekend - I was feeling a lot more like myself, albeit with more intrusive thoughts than usual. I settled back into a comfortable routine. The next week passed quickly, and a thought occurred to me while I was out getting ice cream with my parents on Sunday.

Two weeks to the day after I returned the puppy to the breeder, I felt okay.

In the meantime, I was having an increase in intrusive thoughts. In the first few days when I noticed this, that old, familiar fear came back to haunt me. Even though it had been over eight years, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget how it felt to be a prisoner in my own head. But within the first two weeks, I was able to banish the intrusive thoughts and calm myself down sufficiently that I didn’t feel like I was in a relapse anymore.

I still feel like I’m in a more fragile state than usual. Everything happened so fast and so recently that I’m still finding my footing in some ways. But, as opposed to the fear I’ve held for the last eight and a half years, I was able to conquer this on my own.

I didn’t “go crazy” like I feared. Instead of flailing about like a chicken with its head cut off, I knew exactly what was wrong and what I needed to do to fix it. I didn’t fall so far like I did in college, even though some of my physical and mental responses were reminiscent of back then. I was stronger. I was able to keep myself calm and use the principles from therapy and CBT to keep myself afloat, and returning to normal took a much shorter time than I would ever expect from a relapse.

Just like my family and psychiatrist told me, I am strong enough to beat a relapse like this, especially using the same techniques that helped me all those years ago. Contrary to the thoughts that have frightened me since then, I am able to conquer a relapse far more efficiently and effectively than years ago. I can be okay, even after I don’t think it’s possible.

I hope to carry this increased faith in myself to the next relapse, which I’m sure will happen at some point. I used to like to think I had “outgrown” OCD once I stopped doing most of my compulsions, but now I am reframing things: I live in a state where I am okay most of the time, and when I’m not, I know the steps I can take to get me back there. I don’t need to be afraid of losing control if I know that I can gain it back and go back to the life I have worked so hard to live.

Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

THOUGHTS AREN'T THREATS

Thoughts Aren’t Threats

TW: Self-harm thoughts

Now that Chicago - among many other places - is in a second wave of the pandemic, I’ve been trying to take some time to think about ways to stay calm. One of the major things I’ve thought of is a refresher of my cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) work that I started during my junior year of college. Even though a lot of the things I worked on in CBT have become second nature, I felt now is a good time to work on some of the basics in a more formal way to ensure strength in potentially difficult days to come.

The first - and maybe even the most important - thing I remember from CBT is a mantra I worked on with my therapist and that features prominently in a book that’s helped me a lot over the years (The Mindfulness Workbook for OCD). It’s a simple phrase to help diffuse tension in the moments when thoughts feel insurmountably tough to conquer.

It’s a simple phrase: “Thoughts are thoughts, not threats.” And it means exactly what it says: no matter how threatening a thought may seem to me, no matter how bleak the future seems if I accept a thought as true, it is still just a thought. It’s just one of the many thousands of thoughts that pass through my mind each and every day, and the only thing that makes some thoughts seem more powerful than others is that they feel threatening.

For example, when I was first learning about this way of thinking, I was often afraid around sharp objects like knives because I was afraid I was going to hurt myself with them. The thought made me alter my behavior - staying out of kitchens and the like - and that gave it even more power. “Now I can’t even be around knives,” I thought after I got used to avoiding them, and things kept escalating from there until these thoughts were pervasive and invaded my everyday life to an unbelievable extent.

Thankfully, it’s been years since a thought has had that much power over me, but even in the years since, I have had many times when I had to remind myself that the thoughts in my head are not necessarily going to happen. This is true about everything from the election results to COVID exposure to doing well on a task at work. No matter how insistent the thought is, or how many times I think it, it is just a thought.

During my initial CBT work, I used to have to write stories in which my thoughts were coming true. It was terrifying the first time I started typing, and the story - like my thoughts - soon started spiraling out of control until it was so much worse than I had imagined it before. But then, my therapist told me to just look at the screen. It was just a computer screen with words on it. There was no blood. No one was hurt. Nothing that I had written ever came true in real life, and that was because I am the one with the power to either make my thoughts come to life or choose a better way to deal with my anxiety.

By thinking that “thoughts are thoughts, not threats” over and over, I taught myself to apply this to my other thoughts even when I wasn’t writing worst-case scenarios in therapy anymore. After a while, it became second nature, although in a more stressful time, it’s helpful to repeat exercises like this for current negative thoughts I have and see that they, too, aren’t actually threatening me.

At the beginning of the pandemic, I practiced this with the thoughts that I was getting COVID from every breath I took even remotely near another person. But I never actually got COVID from any of those thoughts, and in time, they faded. I didn’t need to write out a scenario where I got it and got extremely sick because of the work I did before, but all that work set the stage for having an easier time now.

In the coming weeks, I plan to do a deep dive into the CBT techniques I remember, as well as work my way through a therapeutic journal. After everything that’s been happening in the world, plus the relapse I had recently with the puppy, now seems like a very good time to check in with myself and revisit the techniques that have helped me so much.

With the mantra of “thoughts are thoughts, not threats,” I’ve been able to convince myself that I’ve hit a hurdle in the road instead of going completely back to the beginning of my journey. I look forward to seeing how much more I can improve with the aid of CBT techniques, thought analysis, and everything else that has brought me out of tough times in the past, and create a great future.

Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

Self-care tips for the winter months of a pandemic...Guest Blogger

Creating an environment for yourself to thrive: self-care tips for the winter months of a pandemic.

by Iram Noor Ashgar

With winter just around the corner It is crucial for us all to get a handle on our routines and environments now more than ever. This can be an exciting journey though. We are creating our own worlds! Whether you live alone or with family, friends, children or partners, we all ultimately get to decide how we craft our spaces and structure our lives. This is a great opportunity to put some effort into making our days look and flow with as much ease as possible. 

1)    Set things up the night before 

There are so many stressors coming at us right now from both external and internal forces. It is important to provide yourself with a structure that supports you so that you aren't constantly battling yourself. 

How can you reorganize your space so that you can clearly move through all the tasks and activities of your day as soon as you wake up? 

If you often skip out on exercise because you are feeling low energy or dont have the right environment to support it, can you lay out your yoga mat the night before? Or perhaps pick out your workout clothes and set them out so they are ready when you wake up? 

How else can you support yourself? 

Fill up a bottle of water before you go to bed so it's ready for you to drink first thing in the morning. 

Take time to ask yourself what you need in a supportive environment and provide it for yourself. 

Sometimes that means making a couple big changes. This week I realized that my mattress was just not right for my body's needs at the moment and I switched to sleeping on a floor futon. 

What is your body telling you about your environment today ? 

2)    Create clear rituals and routines 

These can be especially helpful when we are dealing with mental health. Having a degree of predictability makes us feel safe and able to move through our day, Can you provide yourself with some predictable and supportive routines? 

That could be as simple as drinking a cup or water as soon as you wake up, or taking time to journal first thing in the morning. 

Setting aside sacred and predictable spaces for self-reflection are crucial for grounding our minds. Especially when everything else seems like it is moving, Having points of stability can be valuable anchors for peace and sanity. 

3)    Do some kind of physical activity 

There is really no right or wrong for this and everyone should find the type of physical activity that feels best for their body. This can also change from time to time and it's great to switch up the type of physical activity you do. 

You could go on walks or runs, do yoga, dance, do gentle stretches, strength training, …. really whatever speaks to you the most will be the most helpful.  

4)    Take time to quiet your mind 

This can be really hard! Some people like to meditate in silence while others like to use guided meditations or even just go for a mindful walk. With quieting your mind, again there is no right or wrong way to do it. 

I started out using guided meditations and then realized that I was getting interested in Zen meditation. At some point Zen meditation became difficult and I went back to guided meditations. I also find going on silent walks to be a great way to connect with myself and with my intuitive body. 

A way in which I have been adding magic and contemplation to my life has been through unplanned walks. I allow my curiosity to guide where I end up taking my silent walks and I often make fun discoveries along my path. The other day I found a couple of amazing books on one of these walks when I came across a little free library! 

Quieting our minds can be a way to get curious about what is going on in there, what tracks are playing, where do they lead you and which tracks of thought do you need to reevaluate? Are there unhealthy thoughts that you can redirect? Is there inspiration that you could nurture into a new project or idea? Silence is a great way to get to know yourself. 

5)    Take time to play!

A lot of people have been picking up new hobbies while at home. However, play doesn't just have to be a new hobby. It doesn't have to look like drawing or photography or a large new commitment. It could also be just watching the trees outside of your window, or trying a new way of thinking about something. Perhaps you add play to an existing habit or activity like making food. Play can simply look like finding out where you can let go and experiment with your life and not worry too much about the outcome. It could be taking time out of your day to doodle or adding playfulness to your cleaning routines - maybe you dance to 80s pop while vacuuming. Find a couple ways to shake up and add joy and experimentation to your life and see where that takes you, you might make some new discoveries about yourself. 

6)    Dress up just for you! 

Though we might be at home, the psychology of how we present ourselves still affects us tremendously. If you wear your sweats and pajamas around all day - odds are you are going to feel a little grimy at some point. It is so natural to want to do that, especially when you are barely seeing anyone. But this is also a great opportunity to love yourself! Dressing up just for you is a great way to show yourself some much needed love and attention. There is also no reason why you can't use this to experiment with new clothes. What colors make you feel like the real you? You are the only one that is around to see it and that is totally fine. It's a great way to enjoy that wonderful process. How do you want to present yourself to yourself (who btw is the most important person to present yourself to). During the pandemic, I have discovered that I gravitate more towards comfortable clothing. I like to wear similar silhouettes and quite honestly stick to a lot of the same clothes every day. This has led me to downsizing a lot of my wardrobe, which is exciting. Approaching things with curiosity and play in this way can make something that feels depressing, like dressing up when no one is going to see your sleek look and turn it into an empowering self discovery! 

I want to mention that it may not be possible to implement all these tools at the same time. It is important to integrate them slowly and thoughtfully into your life. The most important thing is being aware of tools and resources that you can provide yourself and listen to what your body actually needs. No two bodies are the same.

Having said that I wish you the best of luck on your journey to create a positive environment for your body and mind. It might be hard at first to consistently implement tools and experiment but once you find your rhythm, small changes can make a huge difference in your overall mood. 

Iram Asghar is a 24 year old, Chicago based Textile Artist who is very passionate about mental health advocacy and using art making as a healing modality to process emotions and trauma. She has a small textile art business and is always thinking of new ways to use art as a means to advocate for mental health.

PROUD

Proud

My psychiatrist told me to be proud of myself this week.

I made an appointment with her after, on Sunday, I spent 12 hours in the car returning my new puppy after having her for less than two weeks. Ashamed and at my breaking point, I was unaware how to move forward.

As soon as I brought home the puppy, which I had envisioned as the one-size-fits-all solution to the loneliness I felt after coming back from my extended visit home earlier in the pandemic, I was ecstatic. I’d been obsessively counting down the days from 36 to 0 and when she was in my arms, I felt like I was on top of the world.

That feeling lasted less than a day. It turned out that, since she was the runt of her litter, she was coddled so much that she never learned how to be alone for even a single moment. Anxious and needy, she started throwing hours-long tantrums that broke me as much as they broke her. She and I were not eating, sleeping, or functioning.

I knew, going into the process, that puppies were extremely difficult to deal with, but I underestimated how much raising a puppy would affect me mentally. As the days dragged on, neither of us had any quality of life. Everything became too much so quickly that I started to feel like I haven’t since my junior year of college - pounding heart, zero appetite, weak body, and anxiety so steady and pervasive that I couldn’t stop crying multiple times a day.

I tried so many things. Different kinds of training, forcing myself to be positive, reminding myself that there were good times to come. But as time continued, I couldn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel that was steadily worsening as the puppy developed physical in addition to emotional problems. I was at my wit’s end when I took her to a Zoom class and someone spoke about rehoming.

I hadn’t considered it then, but I burst into tears at the thought that there was a way for both the puppy and I to be happy, even if that meant not being together.

I used a strategy my psychiatrist calls a “brain dump” - which involves writing down every thought in my head until things start making sense. It didn’t take me long to write two pages that concluded with the idea that the only reason I was keeping the puppy for myself instead of returning her to the breeder for training and rehoming was a desire to prove that I was strong.

After talking this out with family and friends, I came to realize that it is strong to give up on a dream when it’s not working out. It’s strong to do the right thing and take the time and effort (which was extreme, considering the breeder’s distance and the complicated plans that had to be made) to ensure that the puppy will have a good future. My vet said I could drop her off at a shelter, but I wanted to do what was best for her.

We had one last full day between when I decided to give her up and when it was time to say goodbye. I carried her outside and sat with her on the grass. She met a few of my friends, some in real life and some virtually. I gave her treats and hugs and kisses and was able to be more positive with her as I finally felt the hope of calming down.

On that last day, I was a mess, even if I knew better times were coming. I convinced myself that someone “normal” could have dealt with such severe separation anxiety better than a person like me. I thought that there was no way for me to ever get a dog again. I cried and cried and the puppy licked my tears away as I promised her a much better life.

Two days after returning her to the breeder, I called my psychiatrist. I told her everything that had happened, how I felt weak for having even some of the intense symptoms I last experienced my junior year in college, the way I doubted my ability to take on other kinds of responsibilities.

She told me that she was proud of me, and I was shocked.

How could she be proud of me when I couldn’t even make it 2 weeks with a puppy? How could she be proud when I made the decision based on faulty logic from obsessive thoughts telling me that I was incapable of living alone, especially during a pandemic? I had listened to my thoughts and it led me down a path that came so close to breaking me. I was as far as possible from proud of myself.

She explained that she was proud of how I dealt with the circumstances. She recommended more CBT work to deal with the thoughts that got me into the situation in the first place, but she told me that it was a huge step for me to be able to know when I needed help, seek it out in a timely way from the right places, and make the difficult but ultimately right decision to return my puppy.

Instead of framing this as a failure, she suggested I frame this as using strength to get out of a lose-lose situation. I was so entrenched in my fear of being alone during the pandemic that I got myself into this situation, but I am getting out of it by using healthy coping mechanisms. It might take time, but hopefully soon, both the puppy and I will be in a much better place.

First, I will need to deconstruct the thoughts that got me here in the first place. I was so convinced that I couldn’t make it alone that I needed a dog as soon as possible, and when I couldn’t get a shelter application approved, I relaxed my standards and went for a puppy when I had been determined not to do that. I got so obsessed with the idea of getting a dog as soon as possible that I fell for a scam and then, when I found a breeder, counted down the days with such a frenzy that it worried my family and friends.

Even though I’m still dealing with a lot of shame from both listening to these thoughts and giving up the puppy, I’m going to do my best to be proud of myself this week. It might take some time, especially considering how much I had bonded with my puppy while she was here, but in the end I believe I will able to get back to my equilibrium. Maybe even more than that - now that I won’t be using the puppy as a coping mechanism, I can try to work on my quality of life in a healthier way. I can use CBT and thought journals to deal with the fear I didn’t want to face in March and use my strength to get past this tough situation.

There will always be a part of me that loves and misses the puppy, but I know that I made the right decision for both of us. And with the decision made, she and I can both grow in a way that makes us both proud.

Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

MEMORY

Memory

I have very few memories of my childhood.

I cherish the ones I can, the ones where I am growing up happy and safe with my parents and Nana, surrounded by love. But there are also the ones I don’t want to remember, the ones where I am plagued by obsessions and not truly living life.

While writing this blog, I reach out to family to see if I can get any guidance on things I don’t remember, both the good and the bad. It’s important to see the whole picture, yet - as my psychiatrist told me - my brain decided to shelter me from the more painful memories.

It sheltered me from the specifics of the bullying I endured every day before I learned how to act “normal,” before I had good friends who thought of my abnormalities as “quirks” rather than anything to shun me for. I spent so long trying to be someone I wasn’t at the time, and not enough time figuring out how to make happiness in the moment that would stay.

I’ve always lived for the future. As an impatient person, I’m often looking forward to so many things that it’s hard for me to be in the moment. I hardly know how to, in fact, and when I try mindfulness, I lose patience quickly. When I’m waiting for something, I want the days to go by as quickly as possible, and it was like that when I was a child as well, so tormented by obsessive thoughts that I couldn’t let myself sit and linger on a moment that would turn painful.

Now that I’m older, I regret this mindset of my youth even as I find myself engaging in it now. It’s strange to have to learn about my own childhood from spreadsheets and stories, photo albums where I smile in pictures without remembering them. It’s weird to not be able to think of things for myself and have to ask, then get into awkward conversations about important things I should remember but don’t.

Today, I did an interview with Mom about my past. I knew the answers to some of the questions from similar conversations we’ve had, but I am also aware that many of these memories are likely not true from my own perspective. I likely experienced these moments differently - instead of as an adult watching me get bullied and teased, I was getting bullied and teased. Instead of hearing reports from the guidance counselor whose hobby seemed to be following me around at all times, I was watching her follow me around corners and write things down and I never knew what she was going to say.

It’s disconcerting, to say the least, that other people have more of a solid hold on my past than I do. My spreadsheet from Dad that he wrote about my childhood about is a good resource, but oftentimes it feels like I’m reading a story about someone else’s life instead of my own. I sometimes feel small ties to the past, bits and pieces that made it past my brain’s restriction, but sometimes I wish for more.

I wonder if what I experienced was really that terrible that it needed to be blocked off. I wonder if I would be a different person if I could remember everything, all the pain and all the good things that happened to me over the years. It’s especially strange considering that, even though I love writing characters with deep ties to their past and their people’s past, I have such a small connection to my own.

Small memories burst through the cracks of the fortress my brain has built around these memories, snaking through like flowers growing through the sidewalk. I remember some silly things, funny moments, books I read, and people I knew. But at the same time, it feels like trying to put together the puzzle of my life with so many of the pieces missing.

Whenever I’ve based a blog entry on a memory, I know that there must be dozens of other examples I could have used. What made this particular one stick out to me and stay in my mind after the others left?

I sometimes speculate that I remember things more easily when I wasn’t having bad days with my OCD. When I’m having bad days, they blur together until I can barely tell the days apart, my focus so heavy on what’s inside my mind that I can barely focus on what’s outside.

I don’t like to think that my childhood had more days like that than days without obsessive thoughts taking over most of the day. At the same time, however, the fact that I don’t remember much combined with the fact that what I do remember is tinged with OCD in the background makes me think that this is how I must have grown up.

I find this terribly sad. I grew up with a kind, loving family who did the best they could with me, but their love couldn’t make me have a normal childhood. We went on family vacations where all I remember is getting sick or being afraid of getting sick. We read books together, sang songs, watched movies, went to plays. We did everything I imagine in a loving and happy childhood, but so much of it is tainted that it’s hard to separate the wheat from the chaff.

I suppose the only way to go forward from here is to do what I’ve done all this time - live for the future - but also try to focus on enjoying the present, making the most out of everything I do so that I have memories to draw from in the future. When I have children one day, I might not be able to tell them what I was like at their age, but I hope I will be able to learn from the lessons of my past - even if they come from others - and build a future I can be proud of.

Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.