I'm going to begin this as bluntly as possible. Three nights ago, our world fell apart as it became crystal clear that our oldest daughter was suffering from moderate Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. As of now she has not been diagnosed, but you know OCD when you encounter it.
For two years now, Bren has been obsessed with washing her hands. It started in 6th grade. (this will matter later on) For the first year we really worked on trying to help her stop and thought it was just growing up and puberty mixed with tween-age difficulties. But as the year passed, I realized more and more that though she could gain control for a while, she would fall back into her hand washing habit rather easily. As a mother, it is devastating to see your daughter's hands so raw from the harsh scrubbing. But no matter how I asked or how I pleaded, Bren couldn't tell us why she was scrubbing her hands so frequently. Household restrictions were placed on soap usage and we began monitoring her hand washing as a daily ritual. This was just a stage, and that is what we clung to.
Fast forward to 7th grade. From the beginning of the year I noticed that Bren had added some more quirks to the mix. Suddenly, if a shoe touched her bed, she refused to sleep in it. The entire bed must be stripped and washed before she would relax and sleep in it again. We also began to notice that her homework was taking her 3-4 hours a night. I assumed that her middle school teachers were crazy tyrants, loading on the homework, but after conferences with the teachers and conversations with other parents, I realized that she was the only student working this long and hard. This led us into an investigation as to why she was doing so much. What we found was yet another harsh reality.
What takes most students 30 minutes to complete, will take Bren an hour to an hour and a half to finish. Why? Because every word must have the same shade of pencil markings. If a word is lighter than the others, then she will erase the entire paragraph, not just the word, and fix it. If a letter isn't written just perfect, or looks the least bit wrong, she will erase the entire paragraph instead of just the one word or letter. My counters and tables became cluttered with piles of eraser shavings. And because she wrote so darkly, my white countertops were stained each night with pencil. My heart broke a little more each time I broke out the cleaner to clean up the mess she left behind, and I wiped away the evidence of her obsessions.
Recently, she started showering for 45 minutes. We literally have to go in and turn the water off, which results in screaming and yelling and tears, from all of us.
Up until this week, Bren had never really opened up about the "why" though we spoke to her about the things she was doing quite often. We hoped we could get her to talk one day, but hadn't pushed her. Don't get me wrong, we fought often about the things she was doing, but we could never get a "why" out of her, and we fought more about the inconveniences of the events for everyone involved. I know that seems selfish, to fight with your daughter suffering from OCD about her inconveniencing the family, but we haven't always understood that it was OCD, so please keep your judgments to yourself unless you have walked in our shoes.
The other night, everything just went wrong and it all came to a big fat head. There was a huge argument over her rituals, and then she just started talking. And the more she talked, the more my heart crumbled into a million pieces. Now I have seen some terrible things, and I have experienced fear. But until you hear your own child coming undone from their own uncontrollable fears, you don't truly know helpless fear.
And then, as I sat on the floor in the locked bathroom, crying my eyes out in pain for my child, so many memories poured in on me and I began to drown. I remembered everything that happened to me as a child, sitting on the bathroom floor, and I saw myself doing what I learn to do in those times of desperation and fear: I touched each of my fingers the same, and completed the circle around my nail bed until they were all equal. In that quiet moment, I understood that OCD is apparently genetic. Of course there are other things I do, though I've never really noticed, such as checking the doors at night even though I know I've already locked them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not hindered in any way with my habits, I just recognize their existence. Bren is struggling far worse than I ever did, despite out complete opposite childhoods.
The next morning brought us new hope. With tear stained cheeks, I called a friend and asked for help. Help is not something I am accustomed to asking for, but I knew this was beyond my control. And that is where we are now in this journey...in the very early steps. My friend knows of a very knowledgeable therapist that deals with behavior modification for addictions and those with OCD. We are trying to figure out the payment portion, as most therapists do not accept insurance. But I have faith in the Lord and know that He knows that my sweet Bren needs this help more than anything. I also know that He gives us nothing that we cannot handle or that He is not willing to help us endure, so I know she will have a very successful and happy life. I just need to help her through this trial in her life.
So this is the beginning of our journey. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is a life changing condition that can destroy a life if not properly managed and monitored. This is our story about living with OCD. Thank you for coming along for the ride.
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