Even Loved Ones Who “Should” Know Better Sometimes Get it Wrong

Image by Der_Mentor from Pixabay

Being a loved one of someone who has Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder is hard. It’s hard because you watch that person suffer, and, when you love someone, you don’t want them to suffer. Very commonly, when someone we love has OCD, we get caught up in doing things that don’t help. One way we do this is by accommodating. That is, we do things that OCD wants (e.g., washing our hands because maybe they touched something suspect, we reassure our loved one that of course the feared thing won’t happen, we do things our loved one is capable of doing themself so that their OCD doesn’t get triggered – the list goes on). Accommodation, although it feels loving, actually keeps our loved one stuck in the OCD cycle.* On the other end of the spectrum, but also problematic, is what I did with Blake the other day. I got into conflict with him over his OCD.

Yes. Yes. I did get into conflict with him. I was downright not very nice. I share this with you at the risk of being judged harshly, but I have a purpose for sharing it. I want to emphasize something for loved ones everywhere. Loving someone with OCD can present some challenges – and you will not always meet those challenges in the best way. You are human. You will mess up. I messed up the other day, and I am a psychologist who is an OCD specialist. I deal with these issues every single day of my professional life. I should know better. And I can admit that this is hard.

So, here’s what happened. Blake and I went grocery shopping. He was not thrilled to go. I actually didn’t give him a choice. He’s been in the house almost nonstop and I thought it was important for him to interact in the world for a brief bit. With our masks donned, we moved through the medium-sized store as I grabbed some bread and produce. Blake was clearly anxious about the experience, although he did stop briefly to say hello to an employee he recognized from his volunteer work. When we got home, I still had one more errand to run. Blake was to take the two bags of groceries into the house. He walked around the back of the car and lifted the hatch.

“I don’t know what to do about this, Mom. Can you help?”

I got out of the car to see what the problem was. One of the bags had fallen over and the apples inside it were now lying on the car liner. Without thinking much of it, I picked up the apples and placed them with their mates in the bag. Blake seemed to recoil. I knew right away what it was. OCD was saying all the apples were contaminated. I felt frustration rising in me; that should have been my sign to stay quiet and leave. Instead, I confronted Blake.

“You’re upset about the apples, aren’t you?”

“Well, I just don’t know what to do with them now.”

“Blake, we wash our produce before we eat it…”

“But they were in the back of the car…”

“Apples grow outdoors. They fall on the ground before they get to the store. They touch all sorts of things. You’re not going to eat these now, are you?”

“No. Probably not.”

Nice, huh? Great example of a loving exchange between mother and son. And the mother is an OCD specialist! So, it went on for just a bit more and ended up with me saying something really brilliantly supportive like, “That sounds like such a hard way to live, honey,” before I drove off, leaving Blake with the grocery bags.

Within moments, I knew I’d been out of line. I’d been unkind. Airing my frustration at my already-anxious son was not going to make anything better. What he did or did not plan to do with the apples was not my problem. It was his job to either challenge his OCD and eat them or to miss out on a favorite fruit. As I drove I crafted my apology in my head. I would write it as soon as I was parked, but before I even arrived at my destination I received a text from Blake.

“Hey Mom. Sorry for how I responded. I’m tired and I’m panicking and I felt like I just couldn’t deal with the situation. I went with what made me most comfortable in the moment.“

Tears stung my eyes and rolled down my cheek.

“Hi Blake. Thank you for the text. I was just about to text you, too. I feel terrible. I cornered you about the apples and that was wrong. I am so sorry.“

We spoke some more when I got home and each acknowledged our part. We recognized areas where we are each a work in progress. Will I be perfect now and never mess up again? No. I will absolutely mess up again. What I refuse to do is to beat myself up over it as I have done so many times in the past. It doesn’t help me and it doesn’t help Blake, who worries about me when he can see I’m doing that. Instead, I can strive to improve. I can acknowledge that I am flawed. I can recognize that growing signs of frustration in me are not imperatives that I act or speak, but signs to step back and evaluate. And I can remember that when Blake is appearing anxious that he is not going to be able to take feedback from me; it’s best I wait. We can learn and grow – together.

*Note regarding accommodation. Please, if you see yourself in this and recognize that you engage in accommodating your loved one’s OCD, refer to more information on the subject. Do not change and remove your accommodating behavior until you have consulted with your loved one, a professional, and/or professional resources that can teach you how to do this. One possible resource is the International OCD Foundation: https://iocdf.org/

Double Duty

Image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay

It has been emotionally exhausting to be a mental health therapist this past year! Actually, it’s been emotionally exhausting being a human. As a psychologist, I have never before experienced a time where I have felt so many depending on me, while I try to navigate similar circumstances to the people I work with. And I have felt so drained after hours in front of the computer screen doing teletherapy that I have honestly found no energy to sit and write in this blog – until today.

Without going into details in this post, I will note that Blake and Michael are back in our home with the hubby and myself. What the future holds for them, and so many young adults I know and work with, is still to be written. For now, Michael is completing a graduate program from a distance, and Blake…. Well, Blake returned home wanting to go into therapy (not for OCD; for something else), and we are supporting him in doing that.

Now, here’s something to note: when you are a mental health professional, you cannot be therapist to your own family members. First, it’s actually considered a professional no-no. At the same time, your spouse and your children absolutely do not want you digging into their psyches. I mean, really, who among us wants our parents probing our emotional health? Makes sense, yes?

Oh, and also, the more you know about a subject, the more your family has absolutely no interest in hearing what you know. Yes. It’s true. I have specialized in anxiety and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder for over a decade, write articles on these subjects, teach professionals at workshops, educate the public…BUT I KNOW NOTHING! If I even move to share information about anxiety or OCD among family, it is of no interest. So, I have learned (as my mental health professional colleagues have) to listen to my family, and even my friends, talk about their symptoms while I keep my mouth shut. I offer no recommendations or information unless I am specifically asked, lest it I be reminded, “Stop playing psychologist with me!” (and, yes, you do detect some frustration there – it’s like I know the coolest information, but no one wants to hear it. I digress.).

Anyhow, this state of “Mom-knows-nothing-about-anything-that could-be-helpful-to-me” made something that happened today all the more stunning.

“Mom…” Blake says. “How was it that I used to deal with intrusive thoughts when I was in ERP therapy for my OCD? I’ve been trying to purposely think the thoughts, but I’m only getting more uncomfortable.”

“Hmmm. Tell me a little bit more.”

“Well, I couldn’t sleep last night in part because of the thoughts, so I tried to think them, but it just felt worse. I didn’t feel better.”

“Would you be willing to tell me a little more, or would you like me to connect you with a colleague who can help you sort this out?” I ask.

“I’d like to see if you and I can figure out what I’m doing wrong,” he says.

“Of course,” I say. “I’m heading out to take something to Grandma. When I get back, you let me know when you’re ready. Set aside time with me.”

And I fully expected that would be that. When I returned home, though, Blake found me again. He actually wanted to learn what I know! And so we sat down. I was able to share the little understood secret of OCD: if you practice exposures with the goal of making your thoughts or discomfort go away, it will backfire on you. Your brain is too smart. OCD already tells you that you can’t handle being uncomfortable and that you’d better do something to make yourself feel better – and that is where it traps you.

“So, my job is to practice getting good at being uncomfortable,” Blake deducts.

“Yes,” I say, “but you have to have a really good reason that it’s worth doing that because why do it otherwise?”

And together we find his “why” and we create a mass of exposures he can use. He picks one he’s going to try over the next week. And then he says THIS:

“Thank you, Mom. It’s so nice having a therapist for a mother.”

And my heart is grateful.