It was fine…until it wasn’t…
It looked fine. The ground beef I’d bought for taco night looked exactly like quality meat should. Raw meat is something I’ve had to learn to tolerate as a wife and mother. My OCD makes it a challenge for me to handle, physically and mentally, given my fears of germ contamination. I dumped the meat haphazardly into the pot, flinging a piece of pink meat on my arm accidentally. Taking a deep breath I wiped it off and moved along, using all my strength to cook the meat without tensing my shoulders like I do when I’m anxious.
Anyway, as I swirled the meat around in the pot I began to smell a stench that can only be described as nostril burning, stomach sickening, and all together awful. My kitchen filled with a rancid smell that permeated the room. The meat was most definitely bad. No good. Disgusting. Awful. I could go on, but I think you get the idea. I threw it all away and cleaned up my kitchen, resolved to serve Chick-fil-a to my kids for dinner instead of the home cooked meal I’d planned. My kids were thrilled. I lit some scented candles and hit the road to our favorite restaurant.
I went through the motions. I wasn’t fully aware of the familiar tension that was beginning to build in my gut. I intuitively use OCD strategies every day to counter many unwanted thoughts, but sometimes old fears sneak up on me and catch me off guard. Sometimes a stray worry will latch onto my brain for longer than I am now accustomed to, reminding me of days long ago when my OCD was rooted deeply in my daily activities. I’ll obsess and not even realize it.
My desire for reassurance quickly made an appearance. Before I knew it I’d asked my sister and my husband, more than one time, if I would somehow get sick from having touched the contaminated beef. My thoughts circled around and around giving me a sinking feeling. As I drove my brain whirled as I relived all the places I’d touched, how many times I’d washed my hands, and how I’d handled disposing of the meat. The dreaded “what if” questions began. What if I hadn’t washed my hands good enough? What if I get sick because I touched it? What if I didn’t clean the kitchen good enough and my kids get sick?
Suddenly it hit me, old habits die hard and I was going to have to deliberately choose a strategy. I couldn’t rely on my brain to cope automatically this time. I was going to have to pick a strategy, implement it, and walk away uncomfortable. When I say uncomfortable, I mean panicked. The main strategy I decided to utilize was setting a time limit for my worrying. I allowed myself the entire car ride to think through all the ‘what if’ questions that were looming. However, once I was home I would have to choose to stop thinking. I would have to actively make myself extremely unnerved by doing the next right thing, despite my compelling and paralyzing desire to worry instead. Eventually, the feelings of panic fade (they always do, even though everyone with OCD knows it feels impossible) and I am then able to rationalize the facts. These are techniques my therapist taught me in counseling. I must always be ready to utilize them and remember the process does get easier.
I will confess that I’ve taken too much credit for my mental health improvements. I can feel immune to the fears that once plagued my days. The situation that happened this week was a precious reminder that I have not arrived. I am not perfect. I still need to get on my knees and rely on God by using one of the many blessed strategies He provided through counseling. There is no shame or embarrassment in needing to repeatedly rely on what I’ve learned over the years. I don’t need to feel frustrated that I fell into old habits easily or that I needed to dig into my mental health tool-box for aid. God continually uses my OCD to bring me to Him. He uses it to sanctify me and show me my undeniable need for His presence in my life. I am never going to be able to do everything ‘just right.’ I won’t be able to think all the right things, in just the right ways or say the perfect prayers, but that’s okay because that’s why we all need Jesus. We can come to him broken and weary knowing that in those moments He will provide. In the case of the rotten meat He provided me with a strategy. It wasn’t a vacation and I didn’t love having to walk that familiar road again, but in the end it was a blessing. God met me there. He provided what I needed. I experienced what Flannery O’Connor says, “I can with one eye squinted, take it all as blessing.”
The quote I ended with is inscribed on the inside…it’s a sweet reminder.
