The Pure O

...the Trees For the Forest

2012-01-28T21:48:00.000-05:00

There have been good days and there have been bad days. Many days I have thought I needed to go back on medication, but usually when I start feeling that way a resolve is also stirred within me to persevere. That resolve has so far been able to carry me through the bad days.

I feel more of an honesty sans medication. Somehow medication felt more like hiding from a problem, rather than dealing with it. The trouble with OCD is that, for the foreseeable future, there is no cure. Only endurance. Medication seems to hide that fact and, though it makes the days more easily bearable, makes acceptance of the need for endurance more difficult.

The lack of medication does cloud my thoughts, however, as racing thoughts return unbridled by pharmacology. This becomes most unmanageable in instances when I am completely unaware of how racing the thoughts have become. Particularly when I am enjoying the racing thoughts. Not all of OCD is a torture. The ability to hyper-focus on irrelevant subjects can be enjoyable and even profitable when focused correctly. However I find myself often unable to distinguish between obsessions that have potential to become beneficial and those that are a waste of everyone's time. Like sobering up from alcohol, it is usually only after the obsession passes that I am able to make a fair assessment of my thought's worth.

Yet, to a degree, I find myself able to simulate the benefits of medication in their absence. While on medication I learned a great deal about how a "normal" person views the world which, at the very least, has allowed me to sympathize with people's inability to understand my limitations when I am unable to cope. This understanding has also allowed me to untangle my obsessions from reality, allowing me to logically understand that my fear of social settings, for example, is an irrational feeling and that it's not people that I am afraid of. The fear is really my faulty brain inventing panic from within and then assuming an external cause. Even if I cannot control my fear I do not need to, I simply need to understand it's source.

Having seen the world through the two-dimensional eyes of OCD and medication suppressed OCD has given me a greater perspective with which I can understand a more three-dimensional world. Even with medication it was easy for me to fall back on the crutches of imagination when the real world seemed (or was) too overwhelming. Since childhood I had constructed a realm of daydreams in which I could hide, or imagine to fulfill what I could not fill from actual experiences. It was a great and not uncommon coping skill when I was four. Not so much at thirty-four. Our imaginations serve us well as a testing ground for ideas before they become action. But as with all things OCD it has been too easy to allow useful tactics to become self-defeating obsessions.

Coming off medication, I believe, caused a relapse of secluding myself in my forest of imagination and fantasy. But this time there was a difference. I'd been outside of the forest. I knew what the forest really looked like. This time, despite the many trees of racing and obsessive thoughts, I could see where in the forest I had lost myself. This was something I could not see where I outside the forest looking in, as I was with medication. The outside perspective of the forest was helpful for mapping it out, but it's impossible to navigate the forest from outside of it, anymore than we could successfully drive a car by observing it from an airplane. Only being in the forest, with the knowledge of what the outside of the forest looked like, could I then begin to navigate through it.

Picking My Poison

2011-06-27T23:13:00.002-05:00

I've made a decision, sort of, to stop taking my medication. Only time will tell the wisdom of this choice, but I can tell you my reasons.

It started a couple of months ago when I was no longer able to get in contact with my psychiatrist, for reasons I still don't know. I had needed to reschedule an appointment due to my work schedule, and although I left several messages asking to reschedule I never received a response. Ever. Not to this day. I still have no idea what happened.

I told my primary doctor and he was kind enough to write me a refill, but of course he wasn't going to permanently fill the script, nor would I expect him to. He gave me a list of other doctors I could contact. Unfortunately they were either not taking patients at the time or worked in clinics and only dealt with emergency cases, they had no permanent patients. At this point I was already out of meds and was feeling the effects; the anxiety, the panic, rushing thoughts, mornings throwing up.

Work was getting stressful too, and by chance I confided in a peer of mine what was going since we were working closely together and I was really tired of trying to hide anything anymore. I gave him the cliff notes version, after which he shrugged and said, "Just be OCD, man." I laughed at the time and told him he didn't understand how difficult it could be, to which he shrugged and said, "Whatever, man. Just be who you are."

The more I thought on it the more I thought he might be right. There was a time when I don't think I could have survived much without the medication, but I've learned a lot since then. I grew up with OCD without even knowing what it was. It was miserable, but I survived. Now at least I know why I am the way I am. Plus, I began to feel really irritated about being the only one who seemed to care about whether or not I was getting my medication (unless I was irritating someone with my OCD, then they cared suddenly). So yeah. Whatever, man.

All I can really say so far about not being on medication for about four months now, the first time without meds in probably nine years, is it's six of one and a half dozen of the other. It's harder. Kind of. I guess. What I mean is both meds and no meds come with their own set of obstacles to deal with. The anxiety is worse, the OCD is worse, but without the meds it's forcing me to come to grips with it as well. With the meds I was more relaxed, sort of, but there was also a fear when I wasn't anxious that the anxiety would come back. That (as it did happen eventually) I would run into a problem with filling my prescription. With the meds there was this false hope that I would no longer be OCD, instead of just accepting it. So was I really less anxious?

I can say the same with my thought process, as well. With the meds I can think more clearly, but much slower. Without the meds the thoughts race, but I can also process multiple subjects at once.

So I don't think there's a right answer. I don't know if I'll go back on meds or not. Don't really care at this point. To some degree I feel good I'm getting to know myself again, even if it feels like a horror show at times. I know there was a time I needed meds. I know there was a time they were therapeutic. I know I never would have learned to deal with OCD and understand why people without it can't understand it without having taken meds. But maybe that's as far as they could take me. Maybe meds were a nice vacation for me to see how the other half lives. Maybe it's time to get back to who I am. Maybe it's time to face the fear, face the anxiety, and just deal with life as a fact.

Maybe it's time to stop hiding.

Prozac Nation

2009-03-07T14:11:00.002-05:00

Healthcare stinks. I know this isn't news to anybody. But it stinks. I've been on again off again with my meds over the last several months, because sometimes I can afford them, sometimes I can't. I know it's not good to start and stop the meds, but I don't really see any other choice.

I just started up again the other day. I know that starting on the meds after being without is going to make me feel loopy, dizzy, disoriented. It's a weird feeling. But a relief. I know the disoriented feeling will pass and then I'll feel better.

Lost

2009-02-14T17:40:00.002-05:00

I've hit times I really don't know how to explain, or orient myself to. I feel like every single thing in my life has changed over the last four month, a feeling that I've had before and that is, of course, not true to reality. But so much has changed it's been hard for me to keep track of where I am. I'm still struggling to get my feet under me at work, though I've been in the new position for four months now. I feel like everything I do to make things better only makes things worse. It's very frustrating.

Frustration I'm used to. It's my response to frustration I no longer understand. In general I think I'm doing better with it, people don't tell me I'm cynical anymore, they usually tell me I'm positive, or they're surprised I'm still smiling with everything that's been on my plate. But I feel that I'm, to some degree, only stifling my frustrations, or choosing to ignore them. I refuse to let them drag me down into depression, but am I running up a huge frustration debt because I'm still not sure what to do with them?

I also feel that, although I'm busy most of the time doing something, I don't have much interest in anything anymore either. Nothing seems to inspire me anymore. It doesn't really feel like a depression, it's not an empty feeling, more one of apathy. I don't feel cynical towards anything, I just feel like I don't really care. Like all I really want is quiet.

I was off of my meds for about a month and survived. No trips to the hospital. No panic attacks. No one even asked if I was off my meds. I guess that's kind of a good thing, although I noticed I was off of them and I didn't like it so much. Don't like being on meds, don't like not being on them. What can you do?

Managing Well

2008-11-02T20:15:00.002-05:00

I've started a new job as a group home manager and have had many a stressful situation to deal with. I can't say that it has been easy, nor can I say that my OCD has been completely tame, but to be honest I've been surprised at how well I've been able to manage. And manage is the word. It's been something every single day, and anxieties upon anxiety. It has certainly taken it's toll on me, and I had to take a nap yesterday because my head was spinning with so many thoughts and worries. But at no point have I really regretted taking the position.

Sometimes, though, being able to deal with more has not been a good thing. I've at times over-estimated what I can do now, taken on too much, and bitten off more than I can chew. I have a new set of limitations to adapt to and accept. But in the end it's good to have limitations, it keeps us humble.

Out of the Bubble

2008-08-31T11:38:00.005-05:00

It's been good and bad of late, and I'm realizing that sometimes when things get better they get harder to deal with. Every day I feel like I'm getting out of myself a little more and I see the world outside of my own head a little better. While it's a great thing to be happening, to finally be able to understand what was happening to me for almost three decades without my knowing why, it can be a little depressing, too. It's only when I feel better that I realize how bad I felt before.

Sometimes I feel more comfortable with my old problems. I don't want them, but I am familiar with them. I realize I actually feel more uncomfortable when I'm successful, like I don't know what to do with myself. I feel a little lost. It's nice to be liberated from my anxieties but it's also disconcerting to not have them, I realize a little fear in life is good because it keeps me in check. Too much is debilitating, too little is dangerous.

I have a lot to reevaluate. I never thought my life through this far. I'm faced with opportunities I always wanted and worked for but never really thought I would get. I'm successful at work. It's a weird feeling. My kids love me, even when I'm disciplining them. It's a good thing, of course, but overwhelming. And when I see my life coming together I turn around and see the wreck of a life I leave behind me.

I feel like I'm flexing a muscle that's been held in one position for too long. It's feels good to move it but is soooooo painful. A good pain. The world outside my bubble is harsher, but real. It's more painful, but more rewarding. My bubble of self-delusion was comfortable but asphyxiating. It's good to be out, but I'm struggling to find my bearings.

Conquering Fear

2008-04-04T16:06:00.002-05:00

"He that finds his soul will lose it, and he that loses his soul for my sake will find it." - Matthew 10: 39

It astonishes me now to look back and see how much of my life has been dominated by fear. A vast majority of the difficulties I have faced in life I now realize were the result of nothing more than fear. I can now see everything from procrastinating to being being shy, from avoiding people to being hostile towards them, can be accounted for by fear.

Knowing the insidious ways fear has manipulated my life has helped me to deal with it when it comes now. I don't know that I experience any less anxiety now (some less due to medication, I think), but it really doesn't matter because allowing the fear to exist without paying it much attention has worked far better than trying to fight it, or give in to it.

Letting go of fear brings the benefit of letting go of control as well. Trying to control everything is exhausting. I had never known the joy of simply accepting what is and forgetting what I want it to be.

Breaking it Down

2007-09-14T18:26:00.000-05:00

I don't know if it's medication or just a new insight into the illness, but the world is appearing to be simpler and simpler to me. A friend told me that if you cannot explain something in twenty-five words or less you don't understand it. That's become a motto for when I'm dealing with my OCD.

It's not so much that the world seems uncluttered to me anymore, it's more that I'm learning to organize the clutter and disregard what I don't need. I'm learning to separate the wheat and the weeds. That's not to say this is easy, but it's becoming less complicated for me.

I'm also learning to budget. I just do not have time for everything and so I am learning the value of sacrifice. Giving up a life-long ambition that is unattainable is more rewarding than working towards it. I always thought the answer to my problems was more, more, more; but I'm finding it's really less, less, less.

Looking Back, Looking Forwards

2007-05-18T09:49:00.000-05:00

I was reading through my journal the other night and found myself pretty horrified. It was certainly humbling. It's scary how I can blind myself to things. It's teaching me humility, and to be more tolerant of others. It's such a hard balance to find, between being understanding and being firm.

It also made me cry when I read some things I had written in the hospital that pretty much spelled out that I have OCD. I knew so much about what I was going through but not enough to put all the pieces together. I'm also beginning to understand that none of these problems are really going to go away, it cycles. I guess I thought I was headed for a destination, that I would be healed, now I see it comes and goes. It's not the first time I've been humbled by my pride, I realize now it won't be the last.

The cool days are the days I'm obsessing in the back of my head and I'm able to ignore it, or carry on regardless. Faith in God's word has been of immeasurable help in this regard. There's nothing I can do about the past, nothing I can do about the future, all that I have is the time at hand.

A Few Rambling Thoughts

2007-04-27T21:14:00.000-05:00

To be honest I'm not entirely sure where this blog will go in the future. It's something I've been giving some thought to of late. The hard thing about treating OCD (as if there was only one thing) is that the more one pays attention to it the worse it gets. But paying it no attention and leaving it unchecked is also not a good thing. So I'm still trying to find balance on that.

I guess I could say my obsession are like the distorted images one sees in a fun-house mirror. You know it's you, and the reflection reacts to your motions so you know to some degree it is an accurate reflection of you, but it's also not because it's highly distorted. I feel scared a lot because I often don't know if my mind is distorting perceptions on me or not. If it is distorting perceptions it would be foolish to act on them, but if it's not distorting them it would be foolish not to act. And often I just don't know.

I've been processing enormous feelings of guilt. So many things I wish I didn't do, or think about doing. So many realizations of situations in my life where I was the problem and just couldn't see it. It's very frightening to me. And I don't even know how many of my feelings in the past were real or not. I felt the blame OCD coming up while watching the Virginia Tech massacre. Could I do something like that? Logically I know it's not likely, I never so much as brought a water gun to school with the intent of squirting someone with it much less a gun, but the OCD doesn't want to let the question go.

But it's my arrogance and self-centeredness that troubles me of late. Especially since for so long I've just not been able to see it. It's cyclical; blame, guilt, blame, guilt... and I tire of it. And then I cry. When I feel the regret and sorrow over transgressions I've made, intentional or otherwise, I sometimes feel like I'm going to pass out, or sometimes the walls literally feel like they're closing in on me. I get dizzy, like my head is going to drop off of my body.

But I've been more functional, more disciplined with myself, and more loving. I'm gaining hope for the future. At least the waves mostly subside most of the time, the storms coming less often and without the power they once had. Maybe they'll be stronger again one day. I just don't know. Today was the first time in a long time I vegged out around the house. I went out in service in the morning, checked in at work, and made food for the kids, but other than that I played video games and just did nothing. And no one in the family had a problem with it... so I guess I don't feel so lazy nowadays. Usually people have had to motivate me but of late I've had more people trying to get me to slow down. It's a good feeling. An unexpected one, but welcome.

Resist the Devil, and He Will Flee From You

2007-03-18T20:42:00.000-05:00

I have read in my OCD book that you should give a name to your OCD. I had unwittingly done this when I was a teenager, I called him Jack. Jack used to beat me up in my mind, quite savagely, when I made mistakes. It was bloody and viscious imagery. I've also called it "the Beast". After I watched Legends of the Fall I called it "the Madness", then after I had gotten therapy I began referring to it as "the Sickness" when it would come.

It's been a difficult relationship with the Beast. When I was in the hospital for my second stay I thought of a lot of vivid imagery whenever thinking of the anger (which I now know to have been fear) locked up inside of me. I saw the Beast when I dreamed. When I thought on it and tried to understand the Beast, a very very angry Beast, I saw him suddenly protecting a small, scared, little child. I thought, then, that I understood the Beast and I began to have compassion for him. He was misunderstood. He was only trying to protect me. My anger was trying to protect me from hurt that I had felt.

I figured through therapy, as I worked out my issues, the Beast would fade, or at least come to peace, for the child would be healed and no longer need protecting. But the Beast lied. He didn't go away. In fact, the more I tried to be rid of him, the stronger he got. Now it makes sense, the more one fights with OCD, the more one gives it power.

I began to see my OCD, even before I knew that's what it was, as a great dragon, with wings outstretched, breathing fire at me. I felt I had to fight this dragon to be rid of it, but again that only gave it power. Through understanding OCD I began to understand I had to let the dragon be, I had to let it attack me and survive it for it to go away. Alas, brain quirks die slowly, and the dragon still attacks, but I do feels power has been greatly diminished. I feel it's fire around me and have to remember it can only hurt me if I choose to believe in it.

As I continue to lessen the effects of my OCD it affords me more time for my Bible studies, something I used to dread because of the obsessions it would send me on, and I've begun to realize one term I heard used to describe OCD is true, "Imp of the Mind." My mother used to call me an imp, referring to one of it's definitions as being a mischevious child. But there is another definition for it, one more applicable to OCD, "a small devil." I think this is accurate. I wonder now if my having OCD and being a mischevious child are in any way related.

Whatever it is I am doing my OCD pulls the other way. If I am with my children I have horrible vision of them being harmed or my doing something accidentally to have harmed them. If I'm with my clients at work the same thing happens. If I'm studying the Bible I have impulses to leave the faith and work what is evil. If I have a knife I have images of being stabbed with it. If I am with my wife I have intrusive thoughts about being with someone else. Whatever it is I do my OCD does the opposite. In this respect I think a certain name becomes applicable for OCD, Satan. The name Satan means, after all, "Resistor". Whenever I hear good news or learn something positive there is in the back of my mind the OCD asking, "Is it really so?", or, "How can you be sure?" Interestingly, the OCD never asks these questions about terrible things that happen.

I have read and come to know that psychoanalysing OCD is a dangerous thing to do. It lends credence to the obsessions. Some questions shouldn't be answered, and OCD asks a lot of them. I can remember bad experiences in my childhood that I could see fueling the OCD, or maybe even causing it (getting the snowball rolling, as it were) and have made the mistake of thinking that if I could heal that memory the OCD would go away. But I was falling into the trap of the Resistor, by scratching the itch I made it worse. And it explains why I was so stubborn as a child, so rigid. No answer satisfies my OCD. When I feel offended no apology makes the obsessive thoughts go away. When I feel I have wronged others no apology I can give makes me feel forgiven. It is insatiable. The Beast may have been created to protect the child me, but it became my tormentor, far worse than what it was supposed to protect me from.

I now realize whatever started the snowball of OCD has nothing to do with the net result now. This is at the same time a relief and a bitter pill to swallow. As with the real Devil, who tempts us by pulling our attention away from God, so OCD tempts my attention away from my entire life. The only control we have in life, and it can be limited, is our control over our mind. Jesus said he conquered the world, not by dominating it, but by not letting it change his thinking, his attitude. I am learning so it is with OCD. I can't dominate it or control it, I have to resist it from controlling my mind. Some days this is easier than others, and it still hits me like a big wave sometimes. But there's nothing I can do about that. All I can do is continue to resist answering it, resist trying to solve it, resist it completely.

I regret now a lot of things I have done in my life, a lot of times I have hurt people obliviously, or worse, intentionally. My OCD doesn't want me to be forgiven, or to forgive others. Worse, it makes me doubt my own intentions. At times, when I bump into someone accidentally, I can feel it say "You did that on purpose," and I begin to worry that I did, even though I know I didn't. It has been a terrible lie to live with. My own mind has betrayed me. However difficult I have been to live with and deal with I can only say I understand what it must have been like because the same stubborness and struggle has been going on in my head. I remember when I was young I used to say "I talk so much because it's the only time my brain shuts up." That can still be true at times.

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

2007-02-23T22:56:00.000-05:00

I wish I'd been a little more steady in my posting, but I've really had my hands way too full. Since my last posting I've gone through some of the best and worst (or at least worser) parts of my life. All growth is painful, especially when you don't yet know what you are doing. I've taken several wrong turns, had moments where I felt like I was becoming psychotic, and even blanked out once or twice due to stress. For nearly a month I was throwing up every morning due to panic and anxiety, I've lost 20lbs due to not eating. At least now I can say it was not all for nothing, I've gained something and it's been worth.

I say it's been worth it, although in all honesty I can say I wouldn't wish what I've been through on Satan the Devil himself, because my OCD has made me feel like I was worse than him. Whatever thoughts of vengeance I've had in my life, they don't extend that far. It's hard to describe what the obsessions feel like. I believe them and yet I don't. I know I would never act on the evil thoughts that penetrate my mind, and yet I'm not sure. The book I read on OCD (I'll find the title later) said in it's deeper levels OCD is a sort of quasi-psychosis, in that sufferers never lose their grip on reality or their insight into their disorder, but they're not sure of it either. Most people who have severe cases at some point think they may be schizophrenic, but they're not. The two illnesses are not related and schizophrenics don't worry about being schizophrenic. A very helpful thought I read about OCD said that within the question lies the answer. If you have to ask if you're crazy, you're not. OCD people are the only ones who worry about such things. Normal people don't worry about whether they're a serial killer or not because they aren't. Serial killers don't worry about it because they don't care. Only those of us with OCD would worry about it.

I am beginning to understand the illness more. I have come to realize I am like a child who is too tired to sleep. All they need is sleep, but all they want is more stimulation. I get so stressed with the OCD sometimes I no longer realize I am stressed and think what I need is more stimulation. I have come to understand that when I don't feel like I have OCD is when it is at it's worst.

I have cried over the last month like I have never cried before. I honestly don't know how I survived this long, looking back on my life and now understanding a little bit more about myself and what was happening to me. I have several times had the terrifying realization I was treating the OCD wrong, and thereby making it worse, when I was sure I was doing the right thing, also making it worse. I have many times wanted to quit. All the while I have held on to some reassuring signs, even when all else seemed worse.

I am calmer now, even though I don't feel it. I don't feel it because I am more in touch with my panic and am no longer covering it. I know this because I am no longer sitting in front of the TV all day. Because I don't feel like people are attacking me all the time. Because when they are attacking me I feel sorry for them and want to help. Because when people make observations about me I don't feel defensive, I am curious to hear more, even if I don't like what I'm hearing. Because I'm praying more. Because I'm speaking up in crowds without feeling nervous. Because I don't feel like I have to solve everything. Because I'm not counting my money a hundred times while waiting in line. Because I'm finding ways of making smaller lists. Because I'm completing tasks. Because I can use hand lotion without washing my hands after putting it on. Because I'm biting my nails less. Because I'm not biting my lip. Because I'm disinterested in conflict.

Because for the first time in my life I've had stretches of time where there was absolutely not a single thing on my mind.

What is Pure-O?

2006-12-23T22:22:00.000-05:00

If you are coming from Repression.Depression.Redemption welcome. I have started a new blog because I have recently come to the realization that depression has only been a symptom of what I now believe I've had for most of my life, Pure Obsessional Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Pure-O is a type of OCD, one that manifests it's obsessions almost entirely in the mind. As defined by Wikipedia: "A person with Pure O experiences periods of intense rumination that are triggered by intrusive or unwanted thoughts, sometimes called "spikes.""

I've known that I've had a form of OCD since I was fairly young, I remember feeling compelled to jump over the shadow made by the fridge door as it passed me while closing, or compelled to swallow once for every on-coming car we saw while driving. But what I didn't didn't know was that every time my mother said it sounded like I was ruminating on a thought, this was Pure-O coming out, obsessions that had little outward appearance, but only existed in thought. Again, from Wikipedia: "To neutralize the perceived danger presented by the spike, the Pure O is compelled into rumination, an often intricate mental routine driven by a pressing need to "solve" the fear or uncertainty." I cried when I read this. Finally. An answer.

Recently I came off of Celexa, an SSRI for depression. I'd been getting a little frustrated because while I felt better on the Celexa there were a lot of problems I still couldn't shake. I tried taking St. John's Wort, thinking an MAOI might work better. What I didn't realize at the time was that the Celexa wasn't really helping with depression, it was helping with Pure-O. SSRI's help Pure-O, MAOI's as far as I can tell, don't. In the couple of months after coming off of St. John's Wort I felt myself becoming more and more paranoid, jumpy. It got to a point I felt like I was losing my mind, in a way I hadn't felt since the last time I went to the hospital. I kept have unpleasent thoughts about revenge. I couldn't shake them. I thought them through, I began to know they were not thoughts I wanted, but I couldn't shake them. I was obsessed. This went on for days and nothing was helping. Suddenly, in my ruminations, it hit me. I was obsessing on thoughts as I used to obsess about that refrigerator door shadow. I went online and did some research and discovered Pure-O. The more I read about it, the more I knew this was what had been vexing me my whole life. It wasn't depression. It was Pure-O.

Looking back through posts on Repression.Depression.Redemption convinced me of this. An example from when I went a month without pills because I couldn't track down my doctor: "It had been a month without pills and no paranoia... I quietly began hoping I had bested that part of myself. Other relapses had occurred, irritability, dark moods, but the paranoia had not yet surfaced. The paranoia is a tough one to beat. My heart picks up the beat, adrenaline kicks in. The phone rang yesterday and I jumped out of my chair, terrified of who might be on the other line. It was my best friend. That calmed me for a moment. I tried engaging as many people as possible. Isolation makes the fear grow. I felt the world closing in around me like I've not felt for some time. I did not believe any of what I felt the last two days. I knew it was my mind, not me. I knew things weren't nearly so bad as they seemed. But they were, in my head. It gave me splitting headache, the fear gave me nausea." Sounds exactly like Pure-O, unwanted thoughts were penetrating my mind. In a way I knew it, I just didn't know what it was called: "The black moods violate me. They violate who I am. They slander me. And they are not me."

I found this post particularly eerie in retrospect: "Felt a twinge of that old fear that comes up now and again within me the other day. It's something that to some point has always been there, and I've never known why. What was it in my childhood, infanthood (in the womb even?) that something caused the great fear, the paranoia? I've begun to wonder if it was ever anything at all. OCD is labeled an anxiety disorder. Of course, like with all mental illnesses/disorders, whether the chicken or the egg came first will always be the question. Did the fear cause the obsessive behavior, or was it in reverse? What caused what? We may never know." Now maybe we do. Here's more: "I feel exceptionally frustrated that I'm unable to articulate the fear. It's not an average or common fear, as far as I can tell. Especially because most of it is based on nothing. It's not fear of death, or getting into an accident, or losing a loved one. It's an indefinable fear. A psychotic fear? I almost fear that things are going to jump out at me from no where. What exactly I don't know. It's kind of a fear that the fabric of the universe is going to rip open and reveal some horrid universe." That was a fear I had forgotten about until I stopped taking the Celexa. Then it all came rushing back like I'd never had any therapy or treatment or anything. Like I went back to square one. Finally, it seems I was unknowingly dealing with it better at the time: "I can deal with it for the time being. I acknowledge the fear, and then give it no credence. Like John Nash in A Beautiful Mind, I too have learned to subsist on a mental diet. I indulge some appetites and avoid others. I do not know where the fear, panic, comes from (sometimes it's been so strong I feel I am not in control of my own mind), but I do know it comes and goes like the weather, and if I ignore it for long enough, it will go away."

In my research they give behavioral cognitive theory more importance than medication, though both are helpful. I think this is true. I've learned even now, not being on the medication at the moment as I wait for the St. John's Wort to clear my system, that if I acknowledge the "spikes" and refuse to act on it I don't ruminate and I eventually feel better. Trying to fight Pure-O makes it worse, and the more I tried to deny the thoughts and fears I felt the worse they got. To the point that I felt like a crazy person. But by focusing my mind and compartmentalizing the Pure-O I've found in the last couple of days I've been more productive than when I was on the Celexa.

In the coming months I hope to write more about my experiences and my successes and failures, and what I have learned.