This blog will be seven years old in July of this year. When I began writing it, Blake was a 14-year-old who was tortured by his own thoughts, but refused treament for his Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). I was a terrified mom, one who struggled to stay out of her son’s compulsions, despite being a psychologist who specialized in treating OCD, and who should have known better. In three months, Blake will be a 21-year-old man – one who has grown tremendously over the years. As for me, I hope I’ve grown as well. Now, as the world struggles with fear and uncertainty and our family practices physical distancing to do our part during a pandemic, I am reflecting on where we are.
My blog began with a post titled, “We Are Here.” I was in despair and fear when I wrote it. I didn’t know where our journey would take us, but I did always have hope (though sometimes it was barely holding on). Over the years, there have been ups and downs. At first, Blake’s OCD was a constant in our lives. There were arguments with his brother, tears for each of us, and family events lost. There were also small triumphs. Then, the rituals went mostly underground and depression took center stage. Though Blake went off to college at 19, he came home at the conclusion of his first semester after spending much of it in bed and losing so much weight I barely recognized him. Through it all, Blake did not want to talk about OCD.
Lately, though, something is changing. Blake has been sharing his inner world more and more. He’s been spending his time writing. He’s been working on a fiction novel (it’s at just over 200 pages as I write this post), and he has been writing for an online gaming news site. The writing has been incredibly challenging – the novel in particular.
“My mind,” he told me one day the other week, “it never stops. I keep thinking ‘what if this’ and ‘what if that.’ It loops into so many things. I think about why I’m not a good person, or what if I’d been born into a different family – whatever it is, I just can’t stop it. It can go on the whole day. It’s why I like to sleep. It’s the only time I get a break from my thoughts.” He shares that even his movements are dictated by OCD – they are subtle, but even walking must be done according to rules.
“Thank you for sharing that with me, honey. You’ve given me a window into what it’s like to be you,” I answered, realizing that my son’s OCD never really took a vacation. It morphed into mental rituals – tricks and contortions he must do in his head until his brain finally feels satisfied for just a brief moment. I realize it is a true feat that he’s written so much of his novel thus far. And it is GOOD STUFF – really good.
Earlier today, there was another “a-ha moment.” Blake finished a volunteer shift at the local food pantry, came home and wrote a quick gaming article, and then disappeared. I found him a couple hours later fast asleep in his room. I coaxed him out of bed and into the family room.
As he became less groggy, he shared that he’d gone to sleep because of thoughts that he wouldn’t hit his writing goal for the day in the time he had. “I was afraid and I couldn’t get out of my head,” he said.
“Well,” I said, “maybe it’s time to face that fear and start writing.” A short time later he did and soon thereafter he called to me.
“You know what, Mom? Earlier, I didn’t write because I was afraid. Now, at the rate that it’s actually going, I realize I would have written even more than I expected in the time that I had. Ironically, it’s my fear that got in my way – giving in to my fear may have prevented me from reaching my goal.”
In my mind, that was a wise observation. It wasn’t ability or creativity that held Blake back – only his own fear. By listening to his fear instead of to what was important to him, he was held back from his goal. It made me think of a quote I’d heard long ago by Franklin D. Roosevelt. It turns out it was from his inagural address in 1933, at a time when the United States – and the world, for that matter – was in the depths of a depression and faced much uncertainty. I’ll conclude this post with that quote. I think it rings true for Blake’s recognition today and, perhaps, for all of us as we face our own challenges in the form of COVID-19.
“...the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.“