I continued Cognitive Behaviorial Therapy work with Dr. T for a number of years. One day, as we mulled over the latest panic episode I’d had at school, which included a full tachycardia episode in which I needed to put my face on ice in order to bring my heart back to a normal rhythm, he asked me:

“How do you know you can handle panic feelings?”

“Because I do all the time,” I scoffed. Thinking I was just being a smartass. But this wise man sat quietly in front of me for a moment longer so that what I had just said echoed in my mind.

“Huh,” I nodded. “That’s it, isn’t it? I know I can handle feelings of panic, because I survive them ALL the time!”

He smiled, that twinkle in his eye beaming with pride.

“Huh.” I breathed again while he turned back to his desk, pen in hand, and scribbled the words I’d said on the bottom of his legal pad. He tore it off and handed it to me. I read it aloud,...

What does bravery mean to you? In my upcoming memoir, Every Day, I'm Brave I recount the moment in which I realized that bravery exists on a spectrum and I could finally, for once, place myself upon it.

I'd been so scared of so many things in my life, stuff most people don't think twice about: potlucks, second floors of a mall, the random and unlikely possibility that the floor beneath me will suddenly crumble. Lettuce. 

But there are things that others are afraid of that I'm willing to do or be around, nervous or not: get on stage to sing, quit a steady, well-paying job because it's just not personally fulfilling, bees.

I had spent years believing that I was one of the few that had phobias or other fears while the people around me ate with little to no worry or went for the promotion not worried about the travel or all day meetings they'd now be stuck in. I had partners that flew across the ocean without issue, or got on a roller coaster for the fun and thrill of it.

As I...

My therapist and I talked today about the OCD loop from last week. He had some new ideas about what I could try moving forward, if I was willing. Over the last two years, I've done some seriously good work to overcome many things that give rise to panic and anxiety, but I've not been willing to work on the food stuff. It is truly the biggest challenge for me, and I have to confront it regularly.

I have a running list in my head of the foods I won't or can't eat. (Having real food sensitivities compounds the issue) so it's often easier to list the things I will eat. I'll spare you the time and details for now, but let's just say that nearly everything I eat is pretty boring. Especially when one is eating the same thing for days...

We went back to the basics of psychology. Remember Pavlov's dog? Well, humans aren't much different. We are conditioned to respond to triggers, cues, and environments based on what has been paired up in our brains. How many of you hear a cell...

Yesterday I got seriously stuck in an OCD loop. It's something that rarely happens, but the combined energy of roaring PMS, a brief argument with my partner, and maybe some planet in retrograde made it so that I had to keep assuring myself that the dishes I had just put away were in fact clean.

I was preparing my breakfast and had taken a bowl down from the cabinet and filled it with a half a cup of dry oats. Then the intrusive question came: Did I actually run the dishwasher last night?

The doubt settles in. I go back in my mind and retrace my steps. I see myself putting the soap in, pressing start, turning the clean/dirty magnet on its side--the cue to anyone in the house that the dishwasher is running and not to open it. 

When I came into the kitchen this morning the magnet had been on its side, but the "clean" light was off. Someone had opened it before I put the dishes away. Because I didn't see the light on with my own eyes, it triggered more doubt.

I am...

Last night, as I scrolled through Facebook, a friend of mine revealed she was looking for remote work. Having recently been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, she is hoping for a way to make money without having to leave home while she works through next steps. 

As someone who wasn't accurately diagnosed with OCD until my 30s, I was filled with so many mixed emotions upon reading her post. I was glad that she had that clarity, and I immediately wanted to reach out and help her (I also work remotely and it is game changing in so many ways).

For me, receiving an OCD diagnosis after years of battling anxiety and depression meant I would have a more accurate map to managing symptoms of intrusive thoughts, safety behaviors, and avoidance. Correlated with the panic that often comes along for the ride, the knowledge was empowering for me. I'm hoping my friend feels a sense of that as well. 

As a rebel, I don't like to be categorized too much. I feel that putting labels...

Three months ago, I could barely leave my house. Even at home, the anxiety and panic would overwhelm me at times, leaving me feeling pretty worthless, irritable, and probably not that much fun to be around. 

As I write this, my brain wants to just skip to the good part, but the messy middle is always where the gems lie. You have to root around in the muck to find the diamonds and pearls.

It was a long, slow descent and not wholly unexpected as we globally became more aware of words like "viral load" and ideas of contamination. For someone like me, diagnosed with OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) more than ten years ago, the pandemic was both a blessing and a curse. Isolation brought me relief and control over my environment (it also brought its own brand of loneliness, new anxieties, a whole lot of reckoning, and some really, really good stuff, too).

When the world started opening up and I was feeling forced to adapt to life outside the confines of my bubble is when things...

So, a couple weeks ago I started with a new therapist.

Dr. T, who was the amazing psychologist I worked with on and off for more than 10 years, retired at the end of 2021. Dr. T referred me to this new guy because he helped mentor him and knew it would be a good fit.

Dr. T was right, and even though it took 6 months to get an appointment with Mr. New Guy (post about our healthcare system needing funding and support another time...), I'm glad I got in to see him ...and whoa, is it intense--in the best of ways.

Some of you know me pretty well and have seen my stories and struggles over the years with OCD and anxiety. I talk openly about the importance of mental health and finding ways to cope and heal that work for each individual. There are always peaks and valleys with this work, like life itself, it ebbs and flows.

Mr. New Guy has an in depth approach to diagnosis and treatment--which, if I'm consistent, will lead to quick transformation (especially since I've been down this road...

It’s not gone. It’s just quieter, I think as I take a second bite of the salmon. I’m still often weighing the effects of different foods on my body. I am still often reminding myself with first or third bites that what I’m ingesting is not going to have adverse affects. Sometimes I know it will and am willing to take the risks (sugar) and other times it’s enough to stop me mid-bite and reassess the whole situation. I’ll eat around the offending piece. I’ll slyly slip the dog some morsels so it isn’t wasted. 

OCD isn’t gone. It’s managed and settled. It’s livable.

I don’t really want to go anywhere.

Not sure how much covid is a reason or an excuse.

I am taking many good, long, hard looks in the mirror--especially after disagreements about exposures and decisions. 

The dark night of the soul, they call it. But I had that years ago. I only get glimpses now and am able to acknowledge and work with what...

I’ve written a lot about how it all started--the foods slowly removed, one by one, as my belly ached or the news report of another e.coli or salmonella outbreak. Red meat. Lettuce. My beloved ranch dressing. 

I’ve written about how, over the span of a few months, my weight dropped and my handwashing went up exponentially. Hotter water. More soap. Do it again.

What I haven’t written about is the lingering anxiety that rears its head in certain situations, generally social, when there is less knowledge about ingredients and more probability of cross contamination with others’ hands or breath.

OCD isn’t gone. It’s settled and re-related to. Exposures help, as does a really good support system.

And now, 13 years since severe onset, 10 years since official diagnosis, and 8 years since beginning Cognitive Behavior Therapy and winning a bunch of anxiety wins, we are living in a new era where a lot of people around me are carrying hand sanitizer,...

It's getting closer. I am doing and saying all the things I know need to be done and said, but I am scared. Petrified, actually. 

I know I am so damn lucky to live in a place and be in a profession that has covid vaccines available. My partner just got his second one this week, and my dad got his first. Oh goodness, to be able to be with my parents again. It will be a sweet dream come true. 

But I don't want it. 

No, I'm not an anti-vaxxer. My kids are all up to date and I got a tetanus shot two years ago (you can find that fun video story in my FB history). I believe in the miracles of modern science (in addition to the spiritual science of all things!). 

But I just don't want it in me. No shots. No medicines. 

I get migraines that last three days and I'm only willing to take Tylenol.

I barely take my multivitamin, not because I don't remember, but because I pretend to forget.

Phobias, OCD, anxiety--whatever you want to call it. My mind swirls with refusals...