Flexing

I’ve been working really hard to be less rigid in how I approach, well, everything, including rigidity itself.

My attempts to be more adaptable and open are usually ridiculously inflexible. I spend inordinate amounts of time mapping out precisely how I’ll challenge the OCD rules that dominate many aspects of my existence, creating charts and schedules and a general sense of control over the situation. And then, after a few days of diligently following my beautiful, horribly unrealistic plan, I inevitably become overwhelmed by it and retreat back into the comfort of the known. Taking risks is hard, especially when your brain tells you that inching out of your safety zone will result in grave danger to you and to the people you care about. (I can’t explain how OCD works, nor will I try. Let’s just say that it’s my complicated, confusing, frustrating, and near-constant companion.)

Although for years I’ve been very much ready to say goodbye to OCD/abandon it on the side of some highway, I’ve recently felt a greater sense of urgency to get the job done. Predictably, this has led to lots of talk and little action.

Self-aware enough to recognize that another perspective wouldn’t hurt, I started seeing a new therapist who’s been helping me adjust my self-expectations in order to shift my behaviours and thinking in a more measured manner. During our appointment this week, I described my latest “get out of OCD quick” scheme to her, and while acknowledging my efforts, initiative, and eagerness, she gently suggested that I was setting myself up for failure. Instead of challenging a behaviour a day, she said, I should choose one to tackle consistently. When that win is firmly mine, I can add something else from my list and keep stacking the victories from there, thus building confidence and sustainable change.

I wasn’t totally convinced, at first, that faster isn’t better, but I’m already seeing the benefits of doing things her way. It’s been satisfying to prove to myself that with dogged effort, I can take steps toward a future in which OCD isn’t a horribly destructive and unwelcome housemate, even if the pace at which we part ways might be slower than I’d like it to be. Every time I choose to keep on this path of resistance, I’m flexing my all-important, if atrophied, be-flexible muscles and using them to construct an OCD-free part of my brain. It’ll be a good place to hang out.