6 months, 4 days.....

Six months and four days ago I entered into treatment to get help for my OCD. Some days the tunnel seemed so long, that I wondered if there was light at the end at all. Other days, the light seemed to be shining bright, giving me hope that I was progressing. With each transition through this journey.....from "residential" in L.A., to residential in Wisconsin, then back to L.A. for intensive outpatient.....I've had a whirlwind of emotions and fears.

Today is my last day at the intensive outpatient OCD program at UCLA medical center and again, I have a mix of emotions.....a beautiful mix of emotions. Ya, I'm nervous about transitioning back into "full-time normal" life, but I'm so excited as well. I feel different than I did 6 months ago. By no means am I skipping through my days living in the ecstasy of being free as a butterfly, but my overall approach to life is more relaxed. My automatic response to stress and anxiety is not compulsions anymore. I still feel anxiety, and I still have compulsions, but to such a lesser degree that it feels as though I'm a new person.

My time at UCLA was predominately spent fine-tuning the skills I had learned at Roger's. I also crossed the line from "normal" into some things that aren't quite so "normal" while at UCLA, in regards to exposures that is. :) Research has found that most patients who go through treatment for their OCD, tend to slip back a little after treatment. So turning up the heat and doing some slightly extreme exposures is necessary to allow for patients to settle into the "normal" range. That's a brief explanation, but I will address this whole topic again very soon.

My car is packed, and in just a few minutes I will be leaving L.A. and driving back down to Dana Point and unpacking and settling in at home for hopefully a long time. :) The challenge is going to be not feeling too comfortable in my home. Exposures will have to continue to be a daily part of my life. Facing fears and doing things that cause me anxiety every day is a necessity. Sounds sadistic, I know......oh believe me, I know......but it's what is going to keep me from relapsing.

My journey is not over. Just those words well up excitement within. In some ways, it seems like life may just be beginning.

Grace.

Grace is what comes to mind right now. God's grace is crazy amazing, crazy humbling, and passionately gentle. I'm so thankful.

Here I go.....

Voice of Reason vs. Devil in my Head

It's a pretty day today. The weather is nice. IOP started with me picking up my therapist and then going to the gas station to pump gas without using paper towels as a barrier.

Several years ago I was watching the evening news when they did a little blurb on how gas pump handles are dirtier than public toilets....and that marked the beginning of a new fear, another precaution that had to be taken, one more step in my already step-filled life. If a gas station did not have paper towels available, and I did not happen to have sani wipes in my car, I would drive to another gas station, frustrated at the inconvenience the first station had caused me by not being prompt enough to refill their paper towels. Obviously, the problem is mine, not theirs. The little devil in my head whines and says, "But it's so much easier to blame other people." And the voice of reason bluntly says, "This is not about other people, so pull up your boot straps and face your fears." That voice of reason is getting louder and louder and becoming more and more firm with the little devil in my head (affectionately known as OCD), because I know for a fact that about six months ago, I would not have responded so well to, "Pull up your boot straps and face your fears." In fact, I don't know that reason had a voice at all when it came to how I dealt with my anxiety.

So with my therapist next to me for support, I lifted the gas pump and maintained double hand contact as I put in $23 of gas. The cold feel of the metal. The sticky texture of the rubber. The built-up grime in all the nooks and crannies of the handle. Gross. I don't really like this. It would be nice if I could wash my hands, but I can't, so oh well. I placed the gas pump back where it belonged, got back into my car and touched everything in sight.....including the precious picture of my niece on my dashboard. :( I really, intensely didn't like touching the gas pump without a protective barrier, but I didn't feel like I was going crazy, that I might become paralyzed from the germs.

What's happening? Could it be that I'm really, actually habituating to the idea of being dirty and covered in germs all the time? I've been lifting toilet seats up and down for the last two weeks. Is my brain really generalizing all that I've learned? Where is the anxiety I have always felt? Where is the creepy crawler sensation? Why is my heart not beating rapidly, and my left ear not turning red and burning with heat?

This is weird.

Hollywood Highway of Hikers (alliteration at its best) :)

I was introduced to a fabulous hiking trail last week. A couple friends and I hiked it together and without a doubt, I was feeling the effects of it the next couple of days. But I love the hike. It's ten minutes away from Theo and Jessie's house, and it's like a luscious forest in the middle of this chaotic city....sorta....you have to use your imagination, which I do; therefore, I truly believe I am in a mountainous forest for the 45 minutes that I am hiking. :)

Yesterday I ventured out to do this hike on my own. I needed an outlet. I needed fresh air.....even though I clean black grime out of my nose each night from the "fresh" air here in the city, I still enjoy getting outside.

Black grime in my nose. Awesome.

I love my new hiking spot.....and apparently, so does everyone else in Hollywood. During "peak" hours, its seriously like a highway of hikers. But, rush hour hiking in the Hollywood hills is much more entertaining than being in a car stuck in traffic. One of these days I'm going to eat dirt when I take a face plant on the trail from attempting to hike while staring backwards at whatever interesting person just passed me on the trail. Seriously, some of the things people wear to hike! I have to have a second look. Did they really look at themselves in the mirror and say, "yep, I'm ready to go hiking."

Oh my.

My favorite has been the lady who was hiking with her dog strapped to her chest in a fancy baby carrying contraption. Are you serious? You are carrying your dog like a baby while hiking? Really?

....only in Hollywood. :) Oh, the entertainment!

Besides the pure joy of people staring and the opportunity to allow my imagination to create vivid stories about the awesome mountain I am climbing, I love that exercise has become a more regular part of my life. I usually default to running, but I'm trying to go outside my comfort zone a bit. I'm trying not to be so rigid. I don't like being a rigid person. I don't like being confined to what is familiar and safe. I want to live with my eyes and mind and arms wide open....ready to embrace life.

Next step..... yoga in the park. Oh boy.

Living fearlessly.

I want to do big things with my life. Rather....I want God to do big things with my life. I don't really know what exactly that looks like. I've been discouraged lately, feeling like I'm not doing anything of importance.....therefore, I'm not important.

It's not really about the big things, is it? It's about the small things. The small, intentional things. Sometimes it's hard being ok with the small things.

IOP is still going well. It's hard. I touched the inside door handle of a public restroom last week. I didn't think I could do it. The fear. The piercing fear. My eyes poured forth a stream of tears as I made contact with something that I believed would paralyze me. My head ached from screaming thoughts of not being able to move freely because of all the germs. My therapist talked me through movements, helping me prove to myself that germs and dirt do not paralyze me.....my fear paralyzes me.

My parents were in town visiting for the weekend, and we were talking about.....life. There are many things that I want to be doing....those "big things".....but time passes and my dreams seem to get clouded by fear....paralyzing fear. My dad said to me, "You never used to be this way. You never used to be scared of anything."

"I know, Dad....I know. That's why I'm getting help. Somehow I've become scared of everything."

It was a tender, reflective moment for me. It's true....I never used to be scared of anything. The world was my playground.

The IOP program at UCLA is so different than residential at Roger's because my day is less structured, giving me the opportunity to practice living life outside of the confines of my OCD rules. Sometimes I hate it and just want to go back to doing life the way that I used to because I hate fighting against my body. But, I keep fighting.....accepting that some days are just going to be harder than others.

.....may I fearlessly approach the small things in life, so that I can fearlessly welcome the big things.

A picture story.

My intensive out patient (iop) program is going really well.

I like my therapist.

She has an English accent.

I don't have a lot of words today. I probably touched over 60 public door handles today. Maybe that's why my brain is a little fried. I still don't like touching door handles, but I'm proud of myself. I was pretty normal today, opening doors. :) And all the while, I kept hearing Mr. BTs voice (that's my BT, Nick, from Roger's) saying over and over again....."You don't have to like it."

Monday through Friday I live with Theo and Jessie in their 400 sq ft studio apartment in Hollywood. It's cozy. :) I love them. They challenge my OCD and encourage me to keep fighting for my free spirit.

Below is a series of pictures that will tell the story of yesterday evening. One of my most spontaneous adventures in quite a while.

A.) Don't know why Jessie looks like she is throwing up on me?

B.) Silly photo shoot in the bathroom....it had a super cute little mirror-seat-cubby-thing. :)

Only in Hollywood....

Always thought it would be cool to get a nose ring....an actual ring....not a stud. Not sure now though....

Wow....my expression is scary....maybe cause this whole situation is scary.

Don't be fooled....this is just a nervous laugh.

The scary piercer man was sooo reassuring....he told me not to be nervous....my nose falling off is the worst that can happen he said with a straight face. Thanks.

Freaking out already and he's just getting ready to clean my nose. Lovely.

I'm perfectly calm. :)

I was startled when he stuck a q-tip drenched in rubbing alcohol up my nose. Hello there.

The anticipation. Mr. scary piercer man told me I had to sit on my hands. Jessie was an EXCELLENT cheerleader and documenter.

Breathe in, breathe out.....breathe in....STAB!!!

Look closely....you can see the big, long needle sticking through my nose. Awesome. I'm calm as a clam....cool as a cucumber.

Sopping up the blood. Fabulous.

A.) Love it, love it, love it.

B.) Half smile.

A.) Still being a big baby. Jessie demanded a thumbs up.

B.) Best picture ever!!

And....the best part of the evening.....while waiting to cross the street at a stop light, I managed to convince an ambulance to drive Jessie and I home (4 blocks) because we were tired of walking and it was 11:45pm. They asked if we had been out partying. Our response.....

HECK YES!!

We've been out since 7pm.

People watching was non-stop entertainment.

One drink each at a cute little pub.

I got my nose pierced.

We are crrrrrrraaaaazzzzzzyyyyyy!!!

They laughed.

Church.

Church. The very word makes me nauseous at the moment. It's the scariest and loneliest place I can think of. Interesting, since the very core of what it is supposed to be is accepting and safe.

What is the point of that stupid meet-and-greet time? Seriously. Five to seven minutes of awkwardly shaking hands and faking a "Hi, nice to meet you." BS. To be quite honest I hate shaking your clammy hand and it's really not that nice to meet you because, let's be honest, we'll never talk again because we don't really know each other and people at church don't care to meet other people.....everyone already has their little friend group.

I'm seriously considering going to an AA meeting every Sunday morning, where time is actually set aside for you to introduce yourself. "Hi, my name is Kristen, and I'm messed up." And in response, everyone welcomes me. Not only that, but people take time to drink their coffee TOGETHER and talk about REAL life $**t.

Seriously, it's no wonder that "non-church-goers" don't want to become "church-goers." Can't say that I'd recommend it. I've been going to the same church (off and on through all my moves) since Jan 2001 and haven't met a single friend there.....not ONE. Pretty awesome. But I still keep going.....because I love Jesus. I love learning about Him. I love the freedom to sing my love for Him. I love His love. I love His truth....His acceptance....His grace. And for that hour and a half, there is no where else I would rather be. I dread the end because I want to stay in that moment forever....with Him. But then "church" ends and the reality of the world....people.....life over comes me as quickly as the lights are switched on. Ugh.

It would be great to meet new friends who share my faith. Ever since graduating from a tiny, Christian college 6 years ago, I'd venture to say that I've made more friends that don't share my faith than those who do. Interesting. And I love those friends. I feel accepted. But it's hard, because my soul longs to talk about spiritual matters.....spiritual matters in the every day sense. Life is spiritual. There are a million different "religions" in this world, and don't all of them embody some sort of faith factor and spiritual dimension? I would think so. Aren't we all, in many areas of our life, drawn to certain types of people or places? Because of that, I'm drawn....or at least, desire....to also meet friends who value, challenge, and hang onto the same faith as I have chosen. And so I try. I introduce myself to people at church. Awkward. I've tried small groups. Awkward. I've gone on missions trips. Awkward. I've gone to church events. Awkward and usually miserable.

Listening to a sermon podcast and going to an AA meeting sounds like a much less awkward approach to this thing called church.

A tribute.

I can't believe it's been two weeks since I've properly blogged. I can either feel guilty and beat myself up or I can just be. I'm going to just be. So I didn't blog for two weeks....oh well. That's all I need to say about that.

I started the Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) at UCLA medical center this week. Monday was rough....we kinda threw it out the window and officially started yesterday. Yesterday and today went really well. It's different than residential, but I'm really impressed so far.

During the week, I'm staying with Theo and Jessie since they only live 10 miles away from UCLA. A couple hours ago Theo and I were just hanging out in the apt when a rather large OCD issue came up and I was struggling. Theo began to engage me in conversation about my fear, my spinning thoughts, and my feelings and emotions. Towards the beginning of the conversation, Theo asked me to recall a specific example of an exposure I had worked through at Roger's....any example as long as I could remember it specifically. I thought of one. He then said, "Now, what did your Behavioral Therapist tell you as you faced that fear?" For about 45 minutes, Theo challenged me to use the tools I was taught while at Roger's.

I really did learn so much during my time at Roger's. It's seriously the most amazing program! It's as though my BT, on day one, held out a silver platter presenting my life....my free spirit....and said, "Here, these are for you. Over the next several months I'm going to teach you how to take these back." My BT spent countless hours helping me push through minutes and hours of what seemed like torture. Even though I yelled, cried, cussed, and argued with him, he did not give up on me and would not let me give up on me. I truly am so grateful for his dedication to helping people with anxiety disorders and am blessed to have had him on my team.

Introducing.....my Behavioral Therapist....the man who for four months told me countless times, "Don't feed the parrot on your shoulder....don't feed it!" :)

Nick Ferrell - THE BT.

I told him to do something funny. This is my BT being funny. LOL.

My two biggest cheerleaders. Heather, my social worker therapist (helped me with my emotions and feelings) and Nick, my behavioral therapist (helped me with my behaviors). You guys are the BEST!!!

Overwhelmed.

Monday morning. First week back at home. Feeling overwhelmed......

California!!

Oh CALIFORNIA....how I love thee!! I'm here....basking in the warmth!! :) Just landed a few minutes ago, all my bags made it, and I'm excitedly waiting for Theo and Jessie. :) LA traffic...there's nothing like it! And...my iPhone....I love having my iPhone again! Oh...I'm just so happy to be "home." I feel free.

Making a splash before I leave.

Holy Moly! The humor!! The irony! The insanity!

My emotions have been ALL over the place the last few days!! My anxiety has physically felt unbearable at times. The stress of change, packing, planning, expectations....had my body all tied up in knots and my mind spinning faster than a tornado.

Tonight after dinner, I grabbed my phone and headed for the restroom. Planning to read and respond to my texts while "resting"...as I often do. After laying down my toilet paper barriers on the seat (yes....I still do that) and squirming out of my jeans while reading a text, I sat down and for some reason decided I wanted to set my phone down on the toilet tank so that I could fully relax during my pee. I set it down on the extra roll of TP sitting on the toilet tank, and as I turned my torso back around, I caught a glimpse of my pink phone slipping off the TP roll and falling. What seemed like a slow motion action move, I tried to remain seated, but flung my hands behind me to grab my phone, half hoping that my booty was completely sealing the toilet seat. Um...not so much!! PLOP!!! And I'm talking the biggest plop and splash I've ever seen! The splash was as big as if I had chucked my phone as hard as possible into the toilet bowl. REALLY? SERIOUSLY?? DID MY PHONE REALLY JUST FALL INTO THE TOILET?? And was there just a tidal wave that not only showered my booty, but also drenched my back and soaked my thighs. I am not even kidding! I don't know how it is even POSSIBLE for a tiny little phone to make such a huge splash!

I had NOT peed or done anything besides just sitting prior to all this chaos!! I promise! All the toilet paper is what I used to dry myself...seriously! Look at how soaked the TP is on the seat...literally, a tidal wave! Good bye, precious pink phone. :(

Of course...I let out some sort of audible noise....I honestly can't remember if it was just a loud screech or some explicative....likely both. I JUMPED up, turned around in mid-air to land facing the toilet and staring at the bright blue glow of my phone resting at the bottom of the toilet bowl. Lovely!!! Just lovely!!! Pants still down and literally toilet water dripping ALL the way down my leg, I reached in and grabbed my phone immediately yelling and screaming who knows what. With ONE hand, I awkwardly wiped up as much toilet water from my legs and back as possible. I managed to pull my pants up, but couldn't zip up my zipper or buckle my belt. As I flew out of the restroom, I almost ran into the gathering of staff and fellow residents as I was still trying to pull my shirt down to cover all necessary areas with my one hand, while staring at my OTHER hand in disbelief. I couldn't decided whether to laugh or cry. As I spewed my thoughts of utter disgust, staff was laughing so hard and interrupted with, "Well, you wanted fireworks when you left, Kristen!" :) Um...fireworks!! ...not a tsunami!!

I did wash my hands....probably more than necessary. Later, half laughing, I offered my phone to four of my peers sitting in the living room, three of which are here because of contamination issues. Needless to say, if looks could kill, I wouldn't be writing right now. :) Wow!

A lot of emotions have transpired since the incident which I will spare for another time; however, all humor aside, this whole thing speaks volumes to how far I've come. :) On January 3rd (the day of Theo and Jessie's wedding), Karyss and I were touching up our makeup just before the ceremony when my eyelash brush fell into the toilet. I had a mini-freak out just seeing it. My mini-freak out was cranked up quite a few notches when Karyss reached right into the toilet and grabbed it out and threw it in the trash. As I jumped up and down and expressed my anxiety by squawking and carrying on, Karyss just rolled her eyes, washed her hands ONCE and carried on with her make up!!! She probably hasn't thought about that since. Less than two months later, I DID THE SAME THING....not quite as calmly and nonchalantly as she did.....but nonetheless, I put my hand in toilet water!!

There are so many more details.....thoughts.....feelings....emotions.....blah, blah, blah.....running through my head right now, but I think this story is sufficiently long enough, so I'll end it here. Call me for coffee, and I'll fill you in on all the dirty details I left out. Bada bing! Haha! :)

God really does have a sense of humor! I would have never, in all my planning, asked for what happened tonight, but in soo many ways.....it's the perfect ending, the perfect exposure, the perfect memory for my time in residential treatment. My hand STILL feels extremely dirty, but....I'll sit with it. :)

9:30AM tomorrow....I walk out the doors of Roger's Memorial Hospital in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. My struggle with OCD is far from over, but I feel more free than I've felt in years. Thank you, Roger's, for helping me....teaching me....how to fight for my free spirit. I am forever grateful!