I Was a Recovered OCD Sufferer, Until Coronavirus Hit …
When the irrationality of mental illness triggers become rational, how do you contend with internal contradiction?
“When I was fifteen, I carried three bottles of hand sanitiser with me wherever I went. I would use it when I was nervous, anxious or bored – and I was almost always feeling at least one of those emotions. I washed my hands religiously and ritualistically; everything in a certain order and for a certain length of time, and if I didn’t feel like I’d done it ‘right’, I would go back and do it again. What little money I earned each month was mostly spent on hand cream, as I desperately tried to patch up the cracks in my skin – and keep people from discovering anything might be wrong underneath the surface of it, too.
Seven years and some medical intervention later, the amount of times per day I wash my hands probably falls close to average. I now happily drink from vessels other than one ‘safe’ mug, and no longer refuse hugs for fear of contaminating those I love with a myriad of unknown diseases. Until recently, in fact, whenever I wrote or spoke about my OCD, I would describe it in the past tense. Day-to-day, I’d have zero compulsions to fulfil, and even the ‘obsessive’ side of obsessive compulsive disorder usually only reared its ugly head when I was overly tired, or had what is – rationally and objectively – a genuine reason for concern. The thing is, one such genuine reason for concern might come in the form of a brand new, highly contagious and fairly deadly respiratory virus making its way around the world.
The outbreak of Covid-19 is a justified source of worry for a lot of people, for a lot of different reasons. I in no way want to minimise it, or feed into the (dangerous and dehumanising) narrative that the virus isn’t a problem because it ‘only’ affects elderly people, or those with already compromised immune systems. There is no denying that this is a serious disease, and the world is – mostly – responding to the pandemic in a way that reflects its severity.
“There will be a light eventually, no matter how far away it seems. And until you can see it, keep pushing through – with the knowledge that you are very brave, and you should be very proud of yourself for doing so”
But when those in authority are telling you to respond to a situation with extreme caution, and you’ve spent years trying to teach your brain to respond to things with literally anything other than extreme caution, things can get a little tricky. When we are being inundated with video tutorials on how to wash our hands; when the guidelines say, ‘no hugging, no touching, in fact please stay more than two metres apart from one another at all times’, it can feel like every irrational thought you’ve tried so hard to unlearn has just been validated. One of my first therapy sessions as a teenager involved a ‘challenge’ from my psychologist to go a day without washing my hands before I ate each meal. The thought of such an exercise being played out in a therapy session today is unbelievable: obsessions with contamination can no longer be easily deemed unrealistic, because they just became real. So what do we do? How do we keep from spiralling, when all of our worst fears seem inevitable, and our previously unreasonable compulsive behaviours are being adopted so casually by our peers?
As is usually the case with troubles relating to mental health, I don’t think there is an outright solution. And actually, I’m mostly doing a pretty terrible job of coping with the outbreak myself. But there are a few things that I’m constantly practising or reminding myself, in an effort to make this all a bit more bearable and a bit less confusing. In case they are helpful, these are they:
Reach out for help.
I know. That old chestnut. But I promise there is a reason this line gets repeated so often. It might not always seem like help is available, especially right now when everyone and everything is struggling more than usual (hello, overstretched and underfunded NHS) – but it is still always worth looking for. And though ideally it should, ‘help’ doesn’t always need to come from a medical professional; talk to friends, family members, colleagues or teachers you trust, and see if they can offer a bit of perspective. (Also pets. I honestly feel like my dog should have some kind of psychology qualification to his name at this point).
Don’t compare yourself to what everyone else is doing.
In the U.K., we have now reached a point of Coronavirus lockdown where things have started to ease up, and public places are resembling ‘normal’ more and more by the day. One thing I didn’t anticipate is how this is actually just as difficult – if not more so – as the beginning of lockdown was. Within five minutes of scrolling through Instagram, I see people with masks on; people without masks on; people 2 metres away from their friends; people hugging their friends; people telling me to #StayHome, and people celebrating the re-openings of their favourite pubs, cafes or shops. Obviously, this creates a huge conflict in my mind. The best advice I have is to keep moving forward at your own pace. Whatever other people are doing, this is going to go on for a while – there is absolutely no need to put yourself in situations that don’t feel right to you yet.
Go easy on yourself.
Along a similar anti-comparison vein – you cannot hold yourself to normal standards of productivity when things are not normal. I realise this is impossible for some: those still having to go out to work, those who have taken on additional caring responsibilities, or those still trying to meet academic or work-related deadlines. But whatever reasonable adjustments to expectations you can put in place, you should.
Find a distraction.
My brain is only ever silent when I’m at the stables, and if I’m honest I’m not sure how I’d have made it through the most intense period of lockdown without having that as a reason to leave the house once a day. I obviously understand what a massive privilege that is, and am not for a second assuming that everyone has the means or the desire to go out and get a horse to ride. But I knew from past experience that periods of poor mental health can very easily make me fall out of love with my hobbies: typically when I feel bad, I don’t want to do anything except sit in bed, listening to Radiohead and eating cereal. This time round, I’ve been trying to make sure my thought process is less, ‘I am a person who feels bad and useless and therefore I do not deserve good things’, and more ‘I am a person who feels bad and useless and therefore I must remind myself of the good things’. So find the good things, whatever they look like for you.
Avoid self-sabotaging.
It might sound obvious, but if you know reading the news every day will make you feel worse and trigger your intrusive thoughts, then don’t read the news. Alternatively, if you think looking at facts and statistics will help bring your overreactive brain back down to Earth, then do it. There is no one-size-fits-all solution to OCD, but try to remember everything you’ve learned as an OCD sufferer so far. Just because this situation is entirely new, that doesn’t mean the coping mechanisms and tips you’ve picked up throughout your experience won’t be useful. Remember also that – even if you can’t see it, or can’t seem to stay the right side of it – there is a line between the common sense/basic hygiene of the official coronavirus guidelines, and the extreme steps your disordered brain wants you to take. If you think you’re sneaking too far into the disordered territory, you probably are – and while you might not be able to stop that from happening, recognising it is a start.
It can be really exhausting to keep trying when it looks like there is no light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s important to recognise above all that this situation is still temporary, and that means these feelings are temporary, too. There will be a light eventually, no matter how far away it seems. And until you can see it, keep pushing through – with the knowledge that you are very brave, and you should be very proud of yourself for doing so.”
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Thank you so much to the wonderful Hayley for contributing such a vulnerable and brilliantly insightful piece. If you’d like to read more from Hayley, you can read her previous TIGC submission, Suicide, Social Media and Why ‘Be Kind’ Is Only The Beginning, or follow her on Instagram at @hayleywx_.