3 Lessons OCD Taught Me About Life
How my journey with mental illness reframed my perspective, and could do the same for you
In the spring of 2020, something happened that turned my world upside down: I was diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. (Oh, and that other thing happened too…)
Frankly, it couldn’t have come at a worse time in my life.
On top of the lockdowns, elections, political unrest, (yadda yadda), we had also just found out my wife was pregnant with our first child. The next day, the World Health Organization labeled COVID a “global pandemic.”
Total buzzkill.
While the world gradually slipped into a collective mental breakdown, my mind launched into chaos like buckshot.
But I’m not writing this article for pity. (Although, I will accept it.) I’m writing this article because, looking back on the last few years, my journey of learning to live with OCD has taught me a few lessons (three in particular) that I think span beyond the realm of anxiety disorders, and into the realm of life in general.
Here are the 3 key lessons OCD taught me about life:
LESSON #1: Perfection, as a goal, is not only impossible — it’s destructive.
Have you ever had the feeling that something’s just not right, but you can’t really put your finger on it? That’s what OCD feels like.
For me, it’s locks and light switches (among other things). I live in a house that was built in the 50’s. No matter how many times you change the locks or switches, the house still feels like it was built in the 50’s. So when I lock my doors and turn off the lights at night, it’s hard to trust that nothing is going wrong under the surface.
OCD tends to latch onto uncertainty and imperfection — or rather, the anxiety resulting from that uncertainty and imperfection — and seeks to eliminate it by acting out compulsions. (E.g., pulling on the door handle a dozen times to make sure it’s locked.)
But here’s the catch: those compulsions actually make the anxiety worse.
The more you check, the less convinced you are that it’s secure. Or even worse: the more you check, the more you loosen the screws on the deadbolt or wear out the components inside the switch. The act of “achieving certainty” actually increases the chances of the thing you’re afraid of (like a lock not locking or a switch burning out and causing a fire).
We all know perfection is unattainable, yet we still strive for it. We want the perfect job, the perfect partner, the perfect vacation, the perfect house, perfect mental health. But in the process of striving, we often bring about the very agitation we’re hoping to avoid.
We create conflict with coworkers by trying to “fix” broken systems. We get in spats with our partners by pointing out how they bother us. We over-analyze how much fun we’re having on the trip, and in doing so, miss out on the fun entirely, and so on.
Of course, none of these things are bad in their own right. Conflict can create change, arguments can be cathartic, and analysis can lead to deeper awareness. The problems come when we imagine an idealistic scenario in which those imperfections can be completely avoided.
Imperfection is an enduring reality. Recovery from OCD involves learning to tolerate imperfection and uncertainty, and accept the reality you’re living in. Most of the time, there’s nothing you can do to bring your ideal to life, at least not fully. All you can do is be honest with yourself about the way things are, and go from there.
Now that all sounds fine and good, but you’re probably asking: how? Which brings us to Lesson #2.
LESSON #2: We can’t control our thoughts, but we can control our focus.
Have you ever been to the top of a mountain? I have. (Before you get impressed, just know that we drove most of the way up.)
Even if you haven’t made the trek, I’m sure you can imagine this with me. Picture yourself at the summit. Below you is a busy highway. From where you stand, you can see hundreds of tiny red tail lights driving away into the distance. (See below)
At one point or another, we all have big, scary thoughts. Thoughts that we didn’t choose to think, and wouldn’t choose to think again. In the OCD world, we call these “intrusive thoughts.” (Although, that language has started to make its way into TikTok and meme culture, so you might already be familiar with it.)
It’s tempting to get hung up on these sorts of thoughts. For folks with OCD, we can even begin to act out certain compulsions to reassure ourselves that the thoughts meant nothing, or that whatever we’re afraid the thoughts could mean couldn’t possibly be true. In moments like these, it’s like anxiety’s in the driver’s seat. But it doesn’t have to work that way.
In reality, our thoughts are like the cars on the highway. We don’t exactly know where they came from or where they’re going. They sort of just… appear. We can’t control them, no matter how hard we try.
But we can control how much we choose to focus on them.
Above the highway, up at the peak of the mountain is our mind. While our brain might be infiltrated by intrusive thoughts, our mind can still be a place of calm — a snow-capped summit, where the only sound around us is the wind. When anxiety presents itself, we can zoom out, and see those thoughts for what they really are — just another pair of tail lights driving away into the distance.
I used to think that allowing my big, scary thoughts to slip from my mind was just another way of suppressing my anxiety. (Ironically, people with OCD hate suppressing their anxiety. We’d much rather “solve” it.)
But ever since my therapist gave me the metaphor of the mountain that I just shared with you (which he adapted, I believe, from Dr. Dan Siegel — clinical professor of psychiatry at the UCLA School of Medicine) I’ve noticed a drastic shift in my ability to cope with my intrusive thoughts.
Whether you have OCD or not, we all experience anxiety. Maybe you have a test coming up, or a big project at work. Maybe it’s a first date, or new neighbor and you want to make a good impression. Maybe it’s just the weight of being a responsible adult, or parent, or partner in a world that gets harder to thrive in every day.
Anxiety in these situations is to be expected, but it doesn’t have to be overwhelming. Who you are is so much more than even your biggest, scariest thought. And when all is said and done — even if the worst does come to pass — you’ll still be you. So take a few deep breaths, and remember Lesson #3.
LESSON #3: We’re all trying our best, so be kind to yourself (and others).
For the months leading up to my OCD diagnosis, I genuinely felt like I was losing my mind. I felt like I couldn’t trust my own thoughts and feelings, and I was constantly acting out compulsions that I knew rationally were pointless, but functionally were the only way to “get rid of my anxiety.” (Or so I thought.)
To be completely honest, 3 years later, I still struggle with the feeling that my mind is working against me. The only difference between now and then is that I’ve learned to go easier on myself.
Being human is hard enough. Add an anxiety disorder — or whatever else you might be dealing with, be it a lost job, or a crumbling relationship, or existential angst, etc.— and it all becomes too much to handle.
And yet, somehow, we’re handling it. Some of us have been given the tools and perspective to deal with the messiness and complexity of our lives in a healthy, constructive way (though still imperfectly). Others of us haven’t yet been given those insights.
Regardless of the way it may seem on the surface, we’re all just trying our best — and that includes you too. So be kind to yourself. And when you find you’re at your wit’s end with someone else, take a few deep breaths, bring yourself back to the top of the mountain, and do your best to be kind to them too.
