Walking in the Shoes of OCD

It was a typical morning, feeding the cats and eating my oatmeal.  Typical, until I read a text from a friend reporting on her journey. I've witnessed the overwhelming doubt that has thrown her off balance. I've witnessed her adjust to situations, adapt to the cruel yoga poses assigned by OCD. Her text that morning was an example of her maneuvering into a new pose, a pose that worked for her.  So I grabbed a pen and notepad and scribbled this out:  Doubt was known to topple her, the unsteady territory of courage revealing cracks in her armor.  She feared the Richter Scale as fragments of hope shattered around her.  With the dulled glimmer that remained, she mapped out blueprints to board up her soul.  But she never let it become an earthquake.  Beside the dictatorship of doubt lay a fighter. She didn't need the armor.  She was the armor.  I later realized I also wrote it for me . How is ...

Having OCD used to be my dirty little secret. No one could know. No one would understand. I wish I had known about OCD Awareness Week. The International OCD Foundation (IOCDF) got the ball rolling in 2009. We were past MySpace by then. Maybe Twitter had taken the spotlight. How long have hashtags even been a thing? Was it too early for worldwide trending topics? Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake definitely hadn't done this yet. OCD Awareness Week may have began in 2009 but it took years for the power of social media to send me the memo. So let's use our imagination to re-create a new 2009. Let's pretend I was a pioneering Tweeter and hashtags were as common as periods and commas; let's pretend I saw the hashtag #OCDweek while crammed in the OCD closet; let's pretend it helped me feel less alone; let's pretend the shame dissipated earlier; let's pretend I chose to disclose earlier; let's pretend I received treatment earlier. We may have to prete...

I am lucky to have wonderful in-laws (yes, it's possible.)  They visited my husband and I this weekend. It's become their tradition-the Canadian Thanksgiving Trek (except this year they were rebellious and came a week early). The visits are always pleasant but also tough. No, not because of them. I assure you they've got the parent-in-law role down pat.  Why are they tough?  Take last year, for example:  When heading out, I'd wait for Brandon and his parents to be ready to open the front door while I did a frantic scan to make sure our cats were safe and not about to book it into outdoor turf.  Anytime they'd use the washroom, I'd try to casually saunter upstairs to make sure they closed the door afterwards so our cats wouldn't get into something and die.  Brandon's dad joked that I hid things. He'd place a half eaten chocolate bar down and I'd swoop by to store it in the cupboard to prevent feline death by chocolate.  Y...