Both Sides and Now

Photo credit: Anne Taintor

Searching the water for signs of a riptide while my kids played happily in the big waves was not the way I intended to live in paradise. But that’s what happened. I didn’t know I had a problem before I moved but I sure as hell knew at that moment I looked, in vain, for signs that the ocean would turn on us. When you can’t enjoy paradise, you’re fucked and you need to admit it. So you find yourself a therapist and work on fixing yourself.

I carefully described the things that went through my head to my therapist. “I see stuff. Bad stuff” I told her. “And sometimes I think my visions are a sign that I need to prevent something from happening. But I can’t.” I had completely misunderstood what OCD was until then, thinking it was about needing order or an extreme fear of germs. Little did I know that it was about seeing shit and doing shit to ease the anxiety that seeing shit makes you feel. This can manifest itself in being convinced that your hands are covered in germs and washing them over and over again to get rid of that anxiety or, in my case (and there are several spokes to my case), seeing things that cause me distress and doing things to try and prevent those things from happening. Example— “Could you drive home in the right lane tonight and not the left lane? I saw an accident happen.” Yup, that’s me.

For me, all this OCD stuff really amped up when I became a Mom. Having children changes you for the better and a little for the worse, it really does. In my experience, my body became this vessel of life and the movements in my womb were constant reminders that I was no longer alone in this fight. It’s a lot of pressure for one person and if you have undiagnosed OCD, the pressure doubles if not triples. Can I do this? Let me Google it. Let me Google it again, and again, and again, and again. What’s that twinge I feel? Let me Google that too. All of that is the “C” of OCD—compulsion. So, naturally, after birthing these new beings into the world, keeping them alive and well depleted me. Lack of sleep, full-time job, calling doctors/Googling, and dealing with my own weird medical condition (idiopathic angioedema) was the recipe for a whole lot of bad. Then Sandy Hook happened. Then the marathon bombing. Those images were seared into my brain. We knew Krystle and how she died. I was trained with active shooter drills at my school using blanks. It was all just a little too much. I just didn’t know it at the time. Hindsight—20/20 but also a real kick in the ass.

Thinking that Hawaii could fix me or us was ridiculous. Sometimes, when you’re on a dark path and it splits in two, you go all Robert Frost on yourself, take the “road less travelled”, and end up not knowing who you are, where you are, or how you got there. Then you get a message on your phone that there is an inbound ballistic missile to your island state and you realize just how powerless you are against all things bad. You cry, and I mean ugly cry. You make a decision to return to the land that you know. You fall back in love with all things horrible and beautiful about that land. You learn to deal with the bad stuff you see in your brain. You smack OCD in the face like the naughty little gnome it is. You get your life back. You actually like yourself, and your ass. You realize that this one life you get is pretty damn precious and you better get going with living it.

When I debated with my therapist on Kauai about whether or not I should return to Massachusetts, she told me that it was like I was in the clouds at the Kalalau Lookout. The Kalalau Lookout is one of the highest points in Waimea Canyon and often does not reveal its spectacular view because of all the mist that clings to this spot. She asked me if I had ever been there when the clouds cleared away and I told her yes...it was when my parents had visited us and we had a crystal clear view of the Napali Coast below. “Someday you’ll no longer be in those clouds and your path will be as beautiful as the Kalalau Lookout on a clear day” she said. “Be patient with yourself. You’ll get there” she advised. I didn’t believe her at the time nor did I have any idea what the future held, which drove me crazy as a person with OCD. But, as she promised, the mist slowly dissipated and the view is, for the most part, clear. I will share this piece with her so that she knows just how grateful I am for her words of wisdom and gentle guidance. Though I do not regret our amazing experience on Kauai, I am proud of this full-circle journey I have made. Thank you, Beverly. You were so very right.