Ever since I was diagnosed with OCD and more importantly started talking about I have had alot of people ask me what OCD is like for me? I mean they don't see me constantly checking locks or washing my hands over and over. Most of my OCD occurs completely in my own mind. The obsession and compulsion. Let me explain:
I remember as early as 5 years old laying in my bed with horrible anxiety. You see earlier that day I had overheard some people talking at the store when I was out with my mom. I couldn't rembember exactly what they had said, nor did it even matter- but I was still wracking my brains out trying to figure out all the details. The anxiety of not remembering exactly every detail was so great that I got an awful stomach ache. Not knowing I was actually having the start of a panic attack, I went into my parents room and asked for some stomach medicine. They then tucked me back in and off to my own world of anxiety I went. What did those people say? What if I can't remember and I really need to know? What if by not remembering something horrible is going to happen to me and my family. What if? What if? What if? The anxiety I felt even as a innocent 5 year old still brings a pit to my stomach.
You see they call OCD the doubting disease. It makes you doubt everything you think and everything you know. OCD and uncertainity do not mesh well together. That uncertainty fuels the OCD thoughts and compulsions. Now with the example above, you are probably wondering what the compulsion was. The obsession was that if I didn't figure out what was said, that something bad would happen to me and my family. The compulsion end of it was non-stop mental rumination. Rumination is where you go over and over things, events, thoughts, etc in your head- almost trying to figure out some puzzle. The catchy part is it's a puzzle that can never be solved. So instead you spend hours, days, sometimes months trying to figure things out in your mind. You do this because you are trying to neturalize and reduce the level of anxiety. Very similar to an OCD person that feels that their hands are too dirty , so they continue to wash and wash to diminish the anxiety until things feel just right.
Another example I have is from middle school. Another part of OCD is saying or repeating things until it feels 'just right' in order to keep bad things from happening. I remember hanging out with one of my best friends and I was trying to tell her a story about something. I kept repeating and repeating. If I felt like I left out a word or didn't phrase it correctly, I would have to restart the entire story over again from the beginning. She finally said, "Lyndsee.... Stop!!!! You have now told me this like 5 or 6 different times" When she said that, I remember being so embaressed. I knew I had told the story a gazillion times and I couldn't explain why even to myself, but I had to keep repeating it until I felt like it was told correctly- otherwise my anxiety would not go away.
Last example, also in Middle School. I remember kids at school talking about how Stillwater was now becoming infested with gangs from the Crips and the Bloods. This terrified me. It caused so much anxiety that every day for the next three weeks it was all I could think about. That these gangs were going to kill me and my family. It was the worst thought and no matter what I did I could not get it out of my head. It was at that point, that I became a compulsive door locker. We lived in a pretty big house and I would spend up to 45 minutes locking, relocking, locking, relocking, and checking every single door- sometimes up to 100 times each every single night. Once I had finished that daunting task it would make the anxiety go away...at least for a little bit.
Now I could tell you a thousand stories, but I will spare you the craziness. :) Point is this. OCD obsessions usually center around things and values/morals you hold dearest. So for me mine always center around health and safety of my kids & husband. Although obsessions can be different for everyone, it is important to remember that just because it is an obsession doesn't mean they agree with it, when in fact it is the complete opposite
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
"Having Compassion One of Another..."
I think one of the most beautiful scriptures in the Bible, is 1 Peter 3:8- "Finally, be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous."
In one of my favorite talks given by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, he speaks about how to best respond when mental or emotional challenges confront you or someone you love. He goes on to say how no matter what the mental disorder may be, whether it is depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolarity, a chromosonal defect, schizophrenia, etc- that as bewildering as these might be that these are the realities of mortal life. That because of these realities there should be no more shame in acknowledging them than in acknowledging a battle with high blood pressure or the sudden apparence of a malignant tumor.
Honestly, I coudln't agree more with this statement. Why is it so hard to admit that we might struggle emotionally when we can so easily admit when we have a physical ailment? I think for most people, including myself its humility. Our society has given such a stigma to mental illness. That if you struggle from any form of it, you are a freak, not a good person, unloveable, defective, unsuccessful, unable to contribute to society, and the list goes on and on. This really couldn't be further from the truth. Some of the most successful, loving, and funny people I know have struggled with mental illness. Most of them depression. There should be no shame in any of this. People should not be afraid to seek help or get on medication just because society shames them.
The first time I struggled with depression was when I was a freshmen at BYU. Growing up in a small Oklahoma town, my mom said I went from being a big fish in a little sea, to a little fish in a big sea. Which I guess there is some truth to that, but I think mainly depression was just genetic for me. It runs in my family and it is something that I have watched my mom suffer from my entire life. I didn't always understand it growing up, nor did I have the type of compassion for her that I do now, but she is my best friend, my biggest supporter, and understands me better than anyone. My heart breaks for her that she has struggled with this demon as well.
You see depression isn't just like a bad hair day, or tax season approaching, or not getting picked for the cheerleading team. Depression is dark, it is endless, it is lonely, and it is completely debilitating. When I first started experiencing depression during summer school at BYU, I honestly didn't know what was going on. Being a very social person that likes to laugh and make others laugh, I started to become completely withdrawn. Again most of this was tied to my OCD (but remember I had not been diagnosed with that until I was 32... I was 18). I had just moved to Provo and out of my parents house. I had dated the same guy for the majority of my life thus far and had all of the same friends since elementary school. So obviously I had some major changes all at once. Changes that were exciting to most of the people I came across, but in so many ways they were terrifying with me. Almost immediately I became severely anorexic. (My main compulsion for my OCD at the time) I would average about 600 calories a day and I lived in the gym. I remember walking across campus in the hot desert sun dying of thirst. I was also restricting fluids and water, so I was completely dehydrated. Once I reached my class I allowed myself three sips of water from the water fountain and each sip that I took made my anxiety rise. I lost 20 lbs my first full three weeks in Utah. (I didn't have 20 lbs to lose, but had massive body dysmorphia- more about that later.)
The anoriexa, depression, and OCD continued to get worse and peaked during the fall and winter semesters. I eventually got to a point where I was missing way more class than I was attending and would only leave my room to go to the bathroom or take a shower. I basically cut everyone out of my life and lost interest in everything that made me happy. My self esteem was at an all time low and I hated myself. What made matters worse, was I really had no reason to be depressed. I got into the college of my choice and had a very fortunate life. That made me more depressed. The only thing I really threw myself into was my eating disorder. It utterly consumed my every move.
Now I could go on and on about woe is me, but I am honestly geting annoyed reliving all this crap. The point is this. Depression isn't something you or someone else can snap out of. There is no magic spell or Gennie that can save you. It just is. It sucks. Its hell. That is where compassion comes into play. Whether you are the one that is depressed or it is your best friend, HAVE COMPASSION.
If you are depressed-
1) Have Faith
2) Get on your knees
3) Remember that Christ died for us on the cross and took upon all of our pain, illness, and sin. He knows exactly what you are going through.
4) Seek Help.
5) Talk it out. Whether it be with a counselor, your spouse, your best friend. Talk about your feelings don't let them get bottled up.
6) If you need to, talk to a doctor about an anti-depressant. Treat this as you would any physical illness.
7) Don't isolate yourself or cut your friends off.
8) Get out of the house. Get fresh air.
9) Get some form of exercise.
10) Don't lose hope and whatever you do, DO NOT END IT.
If someone you know is depressed-
The message here is simple. Don't try to fix everything, because you can't. It will be frustrating, but try and be patient. Have compassion, be loving, and be kind. Try not to be judgmental. Most of all, listen.
"Trust in God. Hold on in His love. Know that one day the dawn will break brightly and all shadows of mortality will flee. Though we may feel we are "like a broken vessel," as the Psalmist says, we must remember, that vessel is in the hands of the divine potter. Broken minds can be healed just the way broken bones and broken hearts are healed. While God is at work making those repairs, the rest of us can help by being merciful, nonjudgmental, and kind."- Jeffrey R. Holland
--To my wonderful family, husband, and friends. Thank you for always having compassion and loving me unconditionally. xoxo
In one of my favorite talks given by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, he speaks about how to best respond when mental or emotional challenges confront you or someone you love. He goes on to say how no matter what the mental disorder may be, whether it is depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolarity, a chromosonal defect, schizophrenia, etc- that as bewildering as these might be that these are the realities of mortal life. That because of these realities there should be no more shame in acknowledging them than in acknowledging a battle with high blood pressure or the sudden apparence of a malignant tumor.
Honestly, I coudln't agree more with this statement. Why is it so hard to admit that we might struggle emotionally when we can so easily admit when we have a physical ailment? I think for most people, including myself its humility. Our society has given such a stigma to mental illness. That if you struggle from any form of it, you are a freak, not a good person, unloveable, defective, unsuccessful, unable to contribute to society, and the list goes on and on. This really couldn't be further from the truth. Some of the most successful, loving, and funny people I know have struggled with mental illness. Most of them depression. There should be no shame in any of this. People should not be afraid to seek help or get on medication just because society shames them.
The first time I struggled with depression was when I was a freshmen at BYU. Growing up in a small Oklahoma town, my mom said I went from being a big fish in a little sea, to a little fish in a big sea. Which I guess there is some truth to that, but I think mainly depression was just genetic for me. It runs in my family and it is something that I have watched my mom suffer from my entire life. I didn't always understand it growing up, nor did I have the type of compassion for her that I do now, but she is my best friend, my biggest supporter, and understands me better than anyone. My heart breaks for her that she has struggled with this demon as well.
You see depression isn't just like a bad hair day, or tax season approaching, or not getting picked for the cheerleading team. Depression is dark, it is endless, it is lonely, and it is completely debilitating. When I first started experiencing depression during summer school at BYU, I honestly didn't know what was going on. Being a very social person that likes to laugh and make others laugh, I started to become completely withdrawn. Again most of this was tied to my OCD (but remember I had not been diagnosed with that until I was 32... I was 18). I had just moved to Provo and out of my parents house. I had dated the same guy for the majority of my life thus far and had all of the same friends since elementary school. So obviously I had some major changes all at once. Changes that were exciting to most of the people I came across, but in so many ways they were terrifying with me. Almost immediately I became severely anorexic. (My main compulsion for my OCD at the time) I would average about 600 calories a day and I lived in the gym. I remember walking across campus in the hot desert sun dying of thirst. I was also restricting fluids and water, so I was completely dehydrated. Once I reached my class I allowed myself three sips of water from the water fountain and each sip that I took made my anxiety rise. I lost 20 lbs my first full three weeks in Utah. (I didn't have 20 lbs to lose, but had massive body dysmorphia- more about that later.)
The anoriexa, depression, and OCD continued to get worse and peaked during the fall and winter semesters. I eventually got to a point where I was missing way more class than I was attending and would only leave my room to go to the bathroom or take a shower. I basically cut everyone out of my life and lost interest in everything that made me happy. My self esteem was at an all time low and I hated myself. What made matters worse, was I really had no reason to be depressed. I got into the college of my choice and had a very fortunate life. That made me more depressed. The only thing I really threw myself into was my eating disorder. It utterly consumed my every move.
Now I could go on and on about woe is me, but I am honestly geting annoyed reliving all this crap. The point is this. Depression isn't something you or someone else can snap out of. There is no magic spell or Gennie that can save you. It just is. It sucks. Its hell. That is where compassion comes into play. Whether you are the one that is depressed or it is your best friend, HAVE COMPASSION.
If you are depressed-
1) Have Faith
2) Get on your knees
3) Remember that Christ died for us on the cross and took upon all of our pain, illness, and sin. He knows exactly what you are going through.
4) Seek Help.
5) Talk it out. Whether it be with a counselor, your spouse, your best friend. Talk about your feelings don't let them get bottled up.
6) If you need to, talk to a doctor about an anti-depressant. Treat this as you would any physical illness.
7) Don't isolate yourself or cut your friends off.
8) Get out of the house. Get fresh air.
9) Get some form of exercise.
10) Don't lose hope and whatever you do, DO NOT END IT.
If someone you know is depressed-
The message here is simple. Don't try to fix everything, because you can't. It will be frustrating, but try and be patient. Have compassion, be loving, and be kind. Try not to be judgmental. Most of all, listen.
"Trust in God. Hold on in His love. Know that one day the dawn will break brightly and all shadows of mortality will flee. Though we may feel we are "like a broken vessel," as the Psalmist says, we must remember, that vessel is in the hands of the divine potter. Broken minds can be healed just the way broken bones and broken hearts are healed. While God is at work making those repairs, the rest of us can help by being merciful, nonjudgmental, and kind."- Jeffrey R. Holland
--To my wonderful family, husband, and friends. Thank you for always having compassion and loving me unconditionally. xoxo
Sunday, January 4, 2015
A little intro...
It's funny I actually wanted to name this blog "Stand Up and Fight", but my husband told me it was dumb and it sounded like a Women's Lib Movement. I just laughed and realized he was kinda right. I am all about equal rights for all, but this is definitely not a women's lib blog thats for sure! :) So to be honest, I don't even know where to start. I feel like I have so many emotions on my mind and in my heart that I could seriously take this blog post in a thousand different directions. I have so much I want to say, but I guess I just have to start somewhere.
I like to view my life in two distinct parts. The first would be from birth on up until December 17th, 2011 and then the rest would be everything after. That may sound weird, but I think sometimes we have something so profound happen, that it changes the way we think and feel about everything. That is what happened to me. I found out I was pregnant with our first on July 16th, 2011. That was a pretty profound day as well. Of course we were overyjoyed with happiness and I already knew that I loved that little growing baby inside of me more than anything on Earth. On the flip side, the minute I found out I was pregnant I started experiencing an anxiety that I really can't describe. Knowing that I was totally responsible for this tiny human inside of me was almost more than I could handle. It was from that moment forward that my OCD really took control of the steering wheel, and the downward spiral began.
By downward spiral, please know that being pregnant for me and knowing I was pregnant was the happiest, biggest blessing I could have ever hoped for!!!! We were ready to get pregnant and basically said ok let's start trying and bam we got pregnant! It happened so fast and I realized how greatly blessed we were to conceive almost immediately. However, when this should have been the happiest time of my life, I started going into a deep depression almost from the moment we found out.
Now this really was no surprise to me, as I had been struggling with anxiety and depression since my freshmen year in college. However, with the right medication I had managed to get in under control at least most of the time. I also knew I needed to slowly wean off of my medication in the first trimester, but I didn't listen and stopped cold turkey. Stopping my meds so abruptly along with the pregnany hormones and intesne morning sickness, it was no wonder I was headed into a deep and dark depression that lasted for months. Which ironically made me even more depressed, because I felt like the biggest ungrateful brat. Here I was with a great husband, a great family, and a soon to be baby and I hated life. I hate even saying that I hated life, but I did.
There is so much to this story that I really can't type it all. Nor do I really want to. Even thinking about that time in my life raises my blood pressure. The pit in my stomach comes back and that awful feeling of anxiety that tightens your chest and makes your palms sweaty returns. So let me just put it this way, I have always always had obsessive compulsive disorder. What OCD is not, is someone that is overaly anal about being organized and having their hangers all in the right direction, color coding their closet, and counting over and over. Yes, those may be compulsive behaviors- but true OCD is extrememly mental and you cannot see it happening to someone. You may see the look on their face change, their composure change, it may seem like they are in a world of their own and when you look at them they see right through you. OCD is scary. OCD is time consuming and OCD is an anxiety driven monster that takes you through the depths of the burning flames of hell and back in your own mind. OCD is hard to control, because it is technically your own mind doing this to you. You are in a war against yourself and your brain. And believe me, that is one messed up war.
As my pregnancy continued and the warm summer months turned into winter my OCD was slowly starting to take over my life. I was averaging about two hours of sleep at night, because it had created horrible insomnia. Imagine listening to a record that keeps skipping on a certain part... over and over and over again. No matter what you do or how you try to fix it, take the record out, unplug the cord, throw the record player against the wall, drive over the record player with a semi, the record won't stop. Now imagine that being your thoughts. That you have this one distressing thought that you can't get out of your head. You don't want it there, you don't agree, and you can't get it to leave. Whether or not you know that this thought is even rational doesn't matter, because you are completely sucked in. You can't sleep, you have no appetite, taking a shower, brushing your teeth, and changing your clothes are like running a marathon. Getting to work without tears streaming down your face is the ultimate challenge. Being able to be at work and be in the present moment is nearly impossible. You see with OCD you are never "in the present moment." It is like that with depression as well. You are always either stuck in the past or stuck in the future, but you are never just in the here and now. One of the biggest tools I have learned when I am in an OCD epsidode as my doctor calls them or having a really anxious day, is to just stop. Stop what you are doing and look around. Realize where you are, what you are doing, what your surroundings are, the time on the clock and the date on the calander. Realize you are breathing and your heart is beating and that essentially everything really is okay. If you can do that- even for five minutes- it helps snap you back into reality. You may head right back into that deep dark hole again, but at least for five minutes. For those sweet beautiful five minutes, the sun is shining, the world is turning, and things are somewhat normal. In that little bit of normalcy you get a break... A break from your mind.
As December approprached, I was entering the third trimester of my pregnancy. I had still been refusing to get back on a anti-depressant even at the advice of my doctor. I went to work everyday and somehow by the grace of God got things done. I know I wasn't the person that they hired or the co-worker my friends knew, but I got up, dressed up, and showed up. This picture below is just a few days before I was admitted to the psychiatic unit at the hospital. I still remember taking that picture. I was in so much pain. I was happy to be with my sweet husband and having dinner at one of our favorite resteraunts with our friends, but I truly and honestly had a pain that I cannot describe. It didn't matter how many people I was with or how many people were at that resteraunt, I felt utterly and completely alone. Alone in my mind, alone in my own personal hell.
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That next week when I was at work, I basically just lost it. I went in the bathroom stall and just sobbed. Why was this happening to me? Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just be happy and look like all the happy pregnant women in the magazines? Why can't I sleep? Why can't I turn my brain off? Why do these thoughts just keep coming? Why, why, why, why???? I just wanted to scream. In fact later that day I went to my parents house and just started screaming. I had panic attack after panic attack and just wanted to throw the towl in. I didn't want to live like this any longer. However, I knew that was not an option!!! I hated that I felt that way!!! I knew how much I loved that little baby growing inside of me and how much I loved my family and husband, that no matter how much I hated myself I had to keep on going. That I couldn't give up and that somewhere, somehow, I had to find hope. Even just a spec of hope would do, but that it was imperative that I find it, and that I find it fast. At that moment I was rushed to the Emergency Room- I think they all thought I was in labor at first and oh how I wished I could tell them that was my reason for being there. Instead I told them that I felt like I was literally going crazy. After a few hours in the emergecy room they had made plans to transfer me to the psychiatric unit at another hospital. I was scared, and tired, and overwhelmed, but I had completely hit rock bottom. I knew this was something I had to do, not just for me, but for my baby, and my husband. I knew that whatever was going on was definitely something I couldn't fix on my own and that I needed help. I needed professional help. I knew I had to get better so I could be the mom I so desperately wanted to be and that this baby deserved. And here we are at December 17th, 2011. It was cold and storming outside. We left the hospital in Stillwater and went back to our house for me to pack my bag. Chris felt helpless and naturally as a man was frustrated he could not fix the situation. We pulled into the hospital and he walked me upstairs. I was terrified. I had no idea what I was walking into.
They buzzed us in the lock down unit and pretty much everything after that is a blur. I remember how cold I was, and the feeeling of the cold floor on my feet when they had me take off my shoes. I remember all these other people sitting in a lounge of some sort and all of the blank cement walls. I remember them taking me to this room that had plastic windows and nothing hanging from the walls. They took my phone away and Chris was escorted out. I sat on my bed, in my tiny cold room, pregnant, gripping my legs, and the tears wouldn't stop falling down my face. I was there for the next 4-5 days. Although those were hands down the most difficult days of my entire life thus far, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. For the very first time in my life, a Doctor finally got it right. I finally got a diagnosis, a reason, and explanation for why I had felt a certain way for as long as I could remember. I finally got a textbook answer and the doctor handed me a bunch of printed out papers with all this information about OCD. As I sat there and listened to him and read the material, I felt such a huge sense of relief. I was not alone, I wasn't going crazy, I was going to get better, and there was an actual psychological reason I was going through this expereince.
That day my friends was the start of the rest of my life. That day gave me hope. It was a game changer. It was a true gift from God. There was light again. I could see it, and I could feel it. That dark hole was getting easier to crawl out of and I felt peace for the first time. I felt contentment. You see fear, depression, anxiety, and all of those other negative emotions are from the Adversary. I believe in a God of love. I believe that hope, peace, happiness, contentment, the lack of fear, but yet confidence for tomorrow is from Jesus Christ himself. If you are not a religious person, I respect that...but a key part of my story and recovery is from my deeply rooted faith in God. However, know this. Know that there is always hope. There will always be hope. If you feel like there is absolutely no hope left, dig for it. Ask for it. Beg for it. Ask your friends and family to help you find hope. Find a doctor, and get down on your knees. Hope is the answer. Once you can find it, you can truly start to live again. And believe me this is one beatiful life and you DESERVE to live it.
I like to view my life in two distinct parts. The first would be from birth on up until December 17th, 2011 and then the rest would be everything after. That may sound weird, but I think sometimes we have something so profound happen, that it changes the way we think and feel about everything. That is what happened to me. I found out I was pregnant with our first on July 16th, 2011. That was a pretty profound day as well. Of course we were overyjoyed with happiness and I already knew that I loved that little growing baby inside of me more than anything on Earth. On the flip side, the minute I found out I was pregnant I started experiencing an anxiety that I really can't describe. Knowing that I was totally responsible for this tiny human inside of me was almost more than I could handle. It was from that moment forward that my OCD really took control of the steering wheel, and the downward spiral began.
By downward spiral, please know that being pregnant for me and knowing I was pregnant was the happiest, biggest blessing I could have ever hoped for!!!! We were ready to get pregnant and basically said ok let's start trying and bam we got pregnant! It happened so fast and I realized how greatly blessed we were to conceive almost immediately. However, when this should have been the happiest time of my life, I started going into a deep depression almost from the moment we found out.
Now this really was no surprise to me, as I had been struggling with anxiety and depression since my freshmen year in college. However, with the right medication I had managed to get in under control at least most of the time. I also knew I needed to slowly wean off of my medication in the first trimester, but I didn't listen and stopped cold turkey. Stopping my meds so abruptly along with the pregnany hormones and intesne morning sickness, it was no wonder I was headed into a deep and dark depression that lasted for months. Which ironically made me even more depressed, because I felt like the biggest ungrateful brat. Here I was with a great husband, a great family, and a soon to be baby and I hated life. I hate even saying that I hated life, but I did.
There is so much to this story that I really can't type it all. Nor do I really want to. Even thinking about that time in my life raises my blood pressure. The pit in my stomach comes back and that awful feeling of anxiety that tightens your chest and makes your palms sweaty returns. So let me just put it this way, I have always always had obsessive compulsive disorder. What OCD is not, is someone that is overaly anal about being organized and having their hangers all in the right direction, color coding their closet, and counting over and over. Yes, those may be compulsive behaviors- but true OCD is extrememly mental and you cannot see it happening to someone. You may see the look on their face change, their composure change, it may seem like they are in a world of their own and when you look at them they see right through you. OCD is scary. OCD is time consuming and OCD is an anxiety driven monster that takes you through the depths of the burning flames of hell and back in your own mind. OCD is hard to control, because it is technically your own mind doing this to you. You are in a war against yourself and your brain. And believe me, that is one messed up war.
As my pregnancy continued and the warm summer months turned into winter my OCD was slowly starting to take over my life. I was averaging about two hours of sleep at night, because it had created horrible insomnia. Imagine listening to a record that keeps skipping on a certain part... over and over and over again. No matter what you do or how you try to fix it, take the record out, unplug the cord, throw the record player against the wall, drive over the record player with a semi, the record won't stop. Now imagine that being your thoughts. That you have this one distressing thought that you can't get out of your head. You don't want it there, you don't agree, and you can't get it to leave. Whether or not you know that this thought is even rational doesn't matter, because you are completely sucked in. You can't sleep, you have no appetite, taking a shower, brushing your teeth, and changing your clothes are like running a marathon. Getting to work without tears streaming down your face is the ultimate challenge. Being able to be at work and be in the present moment is nearly impossible. You see with OCD you are never "in the present moment." It is like that with depression as well. You are always either stuck in the past or stuck in the future, but you are never just in the here and now. One of the biggest tools I have learned when I am in an OCD epsidode as my doctor calls them or having a really anxious day, is to just stop. Stop what you are doing and look around. Realize where you are, what you are doing, what your surroundings are, the time on the clock and the date on the calander. Realize you are breathing and your heart is beating and that essentially everything really is okay. If you can do that- even for five minutes- it helps snap you back into reality. You may head right back into that deep dark hole again, but at least for five minutes. For those sweet beautiful five minutes, the sun is shining, the world is turning, and things are somewhat normal. In that little bit of normalcy you get a break... A break from your mind.
As December approprached, I was entering the third trimester of my pregnancy. I had still been refusing to get back on a anti-depressant even at the advice of my doctor. I went to work everyday and somehow by the grace of God got things done. I know I wasn't the person that they hired or the co-worker my friends knew, but I got up, dressed up, and showed up. This picture below is just a few days before I was admitted to the psychiatic unit at the hospital. I still remember taking that picture. I was in so much pain. I was happy to be with my sweet husband and having dinner at one of our favorite resteraunts with our friends, but I truly and honestly had a pain that I cannot describe. It didn't matter how many people I was with or how many people were at that resteraunt, I felt utterly and completely alone. Alone in my mind, alone in my own personal hell.
They buzzed us in the lock down unit and pretty much everything after that is a blur. I remember how cold I was, and the feeeling of the cold floor on my feet when they had me take off my shoes. I remember all these other people sitting in a lounge of some sort and all of the blank cement walls. I remember them taking me to this room that had plastic windows and nothing hanging from the walls. They took my phone away and Chris was escorted out. I sat on my bed, in my tiny cold room, pregnant, gripping my legs, and the tears wouldn't stop falling down my face. I was there for the next 4-5 days. Although those were hands down the most difficult days of my entire life thus far, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. For the very first time in my life, a Doctor finally got it right. I finally got a diagnosis, a reason, and explanation for why I had felt a certain way for as long as I could remember. I finally got a textbook answer and the doctor handed me a bunch of printed out papers with all this information about OCD. As I sat there and listened to him and read the material, I felt such a huge sense of relief. I was not alone, I wasn't going crazy, I was going to get better, and there was an actual psychological reason I was going through this expereince.
That day my friends was the start of the rest of my life. That day gave me hope. It was a game changer. It was a true gift from God. There was light again. I could see it, and I could feel it. That dark hole was getting easier to crawl out of and I felt peace for the first time. I felt contentment. You see fear, depression, anxiety, and all of those other negative emotions are from the Adversary. I believe in a God of love. I believe that hope, peace, happiness, contentment, the lack of fear, but yet confidence for tomorrow is from Jesus Christ himself. If you are not a religious person, I respect that...but a key part of my story and recovery is from my deeply rooted faith in God. However, know this. Know that there is always hope. There will always be hope. If you feel like there is absolutely no hope left, dig for it. Ask for it. Beg for it. Ask your friends and family to help you find hope. Find a doctor, and get down on your knees. Hope is the answer. Once you can find it, you can truly start to live again. And believe me this is one beatiful life and you DESERVE to live it.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
It's time to Open My Heart
For those of you that know me, you know that my name is Lyndsee. For those of you that don't know me, well my name is still Lyndsee. Good joke right?!? I am 35, happily married, have an almost 3 year old little boy, and an 11 week old little girl. I love to laugh and at times say things that are probably inappropriate. My husband tells me that my filter is well, non-existent at times. Oops!
I honestly wish I was starting a super fun fashion blog, doing amazing photoshoots, and getting freebies from Anthropologie and Makeup Forever, but unfortunately that is not the case. And you know what? That is totally okay. This is me. This is the raw me and although I love clothes, and shoes, and makeup, I also know that God has blessed me to go through some pretty tough things and given me a mouth that never shuts up, in hopes that I can help other people. Before my son was born back in 2011 I started a blog to help others with eating disorders,anxiety, and depression, but that was before I was actually diagnosed for the root cause of all of these.--OCD- Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Before I go off on too much of a tangent, I started that blog, got pregnant, and then never slept again. Just kidding, kind of. :)
In all honesty, I started that blog in the spring of 2011 and then found out I was pregnant in July of 2011. It seems like the minute I got pregnant everything changed. (which is obvious, but my psychological state changed for sure.) It changed so much, to the point that I could barely function in daily life, let alone work on my blog. I took this next paragraph from www.maternalocd.org to go into greater detail.
"Until recently OCD in pregnancy and after having a baby had received very little research attention. However recent studies suggest that OCD is more common at this time than other times in life. Some people develop OCD for the first time either during pregnancy or afterwards, whilst others find that pre-existing symptoms worsen. This increase in the incidence of OCD is likely to be related to the fact that pregnancy and early parenthood is a time when moms are naturally focused on the safety of their developing child and feel particularly responsible for them. The normal stress and uncertainties of becoming a parent can also play a role."
For me, well as long as I can remember I have always always struggled with OCD. I have memories dating back as early as five years old. I guess I was one of those people, where the pre-existing conditions worsen. The awful thing about it was I never knew I had OCD. I didn't even know what OCD was until I was diagnosed during my pregnancy with Logan. Now before I go on much further, I don't want anyone that is reading this, to think that I am trying to glorify or brag about my experiences. I mean lets be honest. If we all lived in a perfect world, we would never let others know that we have struggled. We would never admit that we have been depressed, anxious, recovered from anorexia/bulimia, have ADD, or struggle/ed with OCD on a daily basis. We would just keep all that fun stuff a secret. Which in reality, is what I want to do... But you know what? If it wasn't for some key people in my life (that I will tell you about later) I absolutely, 100%, would not be writing this blog right now. If it wasn't for the courage of others and their willingness to humble themselves, I would have never known there were other people like me. Other women like me, and even other mothers like me. I feel like I have been given a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance, and each day the numbers increase. Because you know what? Some days are really hard. There are some days where I just want to crawl in a hole. There was a time when I was 7 months pregnant with Logan that I truly didn't know how I was going to make it, I just knew that I absolutely had no other choice. I am thankful to God that I admitted myself to the hospital to get the help that I needed. I am thankful to God that I was able to get a proper diagnosis of OCD, and I am thankful to God every time I look at my loving husband, parents, siblings, and beautiful children that there were wonderful doctors and nurses out there that helped me through such a trying time. That there were other bloggers, authors, and people just like me, that weren't afraid to tell their story and let me know that there wasn't anything wrong with me. I hope that when people google OCD, depression, anxiety, eating disorders, etc, that God will lead them to my blog, just like he did for me. I am not a licensed psychologist or psychiatrist, nor do I claim to be, but I am just a regular mom trying to take each day as it comes. I am a regular person that struggles just like the next. I feel like through my experiences I have become a more compassionate and loving person. I have become less judgmental and more empathetic. If by telling my story and posting my thoughts helps just one person...than my job here is done. Welcome to my blog and I pray that God gives me the guidance to help that one person who needs it.
I honestly wish I was starting a super fun fashion blog, doing amazing photoshoots, and getting freebies from Anthropologie and Makeup Forever, but unfortunately that is not the case. And you know what? That is totally okay. This is me. This is the raw me and although I love clothes, and shoes, and makeup, I also know that God has blessed me to go through some pretty tough things and given me a mouth that never shuts up, in hopes that I can help other people. Before my son was born back in 2011 I started a blog to help others with eating disorders,anxiety, and depression, but that was before I was actually diagnosed for the root cause of all of these.--OCD- Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Before I go off on too much of a tangent, I started that blog, got pregnant, and then never slept again. Just kidding, kind of. :)
In all honesty, I started that blog in the spring of 2011 and then found out I was pregnant in July of 2011. It seems like the minute I got pregnant everything changed. (which is obvious, but my psychological state changed for sure.) It changed so much, to the point that I could barely function in daily life, let alone work on my blog. I took this next paragraph from www.maternalocd.org to go into greater detail.
"Until recently OCD in pregnancy and after having a baby had received very little research attention. However recent studies suggest that OCD is more common at this time than other times in life. Some people develop OCD for the first time either during pregnancy or afterwards, whilst others find that pre-existing symptoms worsen. This increase in the incidence of OCD is likely to be related to the fact that pregnancy and early parenthood is a time when moms are naturally focused on the safety of their developing child and feel particularly responsible for them. The normal stress and uncertainties of becoming a parent can also play a role."
For me, well as long as I can remember I have always always struggled with OCD. I have memories dating back as early as five years old. I guess I was one of those people, where the pre-existing conditions worsen. The awful thing about it was I never knew I had OCD. I didn't even know what OCD was until I was diagnosed during my pregnancy with Logan. Now before I go on much further, I don't want anyone that is reading this, to think that I am trying to glorify or brag about my experiences. I mean lets be honest. If we all lived in a perfect world, we would never let others know that we have struggled. We would never admit that we have been depressed, anxious, recovered from anorexia/bulimia, have ADD, or struggle/ed with OCD on a daily basis. We would just keep all that fun stuff a secret. Which in reality, is what I want to do... But you know what? If it wasn't for some key people in my life (that I will tell you about later) I absolutely, 100%, would not be writing this blog right now. If it wasn't for the courage of others and their willingness to humble themselves, I would have never known there were other people like me. Other women like me, and even other mothers like me. I feel like I have been given a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance, and each day the numbers increase. Because you know what? Some days are really hard. There are some days where I just want to crawl in a hole. There was a time when I was 7 months pregnant with Logan that I truly didn't know how I was going to make it, I just knew that I absolutely had no other choice. I am thankful to God that I admitted myself to the hospital to get the help that I needed. I am thankful to God that I was able to get a proper diagnosis of OCD, and I am thankful to God every time I look at my loving husband, parents, siblings, and beautiful children that there were wonderful doctors and nurses out there that helped me through such a trying time. That there were other bloggers, authors, and people just like me, that weren't afraid to tell their story and let me know that there wasn't anything wrong with me. I hope that when people google OCD, depression, anxiety, eating disorders, etc, that God will lead them to my blog, just like he did for me. I am not a licensed psychologist or psychiatrist, nor do I claim to be, but I am just a regular mom trying to take each day as it comes. I am a regular person that struggles just like the next. I feel like through my experiences I have become a more compassionate and loving person. I have become less judgmental and more empathetic. If by telling my story and posting my thoughts helps just one person...than my job here is done. Welcome to my blog and I pray that God gives me the guidance to help that one person who needs it.
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