Case in point: when I was growing up, I loved books but hated required reading for classes. When knew I was being graded on what I read, I was obsessive. If I didn’t focus on every single word, I felt like it was lying to report 100% on my reading. Therefore, I would read the same lines over and over again until I felt like I gave each line the appropriate amount of attention. Needless to say, reading for homework was a painful process, and one I did not look forward to. I was dead set, however, on getting good grades, so this created a lot of inner turmoil.
Fast forward to college. For a (very) brief moment in time, I contemplated majoring in philosophy. I enrolled in two philosophy classes my freshman year. One of the courses was, "The History of Philosophy", which was about as interesting as it sounds. There was an exorbitant amount of required reading, and it was undeniably complex. We were given a grade at the end of the semester for how many pages we read and this factored heavily in to our semester grade. Skimming was not a skill I developed, as I did not feel like it was honest. I put off most of my reading until the end of the semester. My professor asked us to report how many pages we read at the end of our final paper. We had to turn in our essays to the envelope outside his office by 5:00 pm. on the last day before winter break. I knew I had some time on the airplane to get some extra reading done and thus ensure an A- in the class. With some hesitation, I wrote down a number that was fifty pages more than I had yet read and turned it in before the deadline. As I traveled home to California that night, I read voraciously on the airplane to finish reading the pages I reported. It wasn't my best reading, and certainly not the kind of reading I felt was acceptable. But I finished.
I lived with intense guilt for years after that semester. I felt like I did not deserve my scholarship, or even a diploma. I agonized over the choice I made. I lied. I cheated. I was undeserving of the A-. Getting good grades helped me get part of my schooling paid for through a scholarship funded by tithing. I was not only lying, I was stealing money from church members. Even if I did finish the fifty pages on the airplane, what if I didn’t read them well enough? What if I skipped words or didn’t focus? What if I skimmed it?
I could not let it go. I asked for constant reassurance from my family; yet, even their assurances did not help me long term. It got to the point where I could not stomach the suffering any longer. A few years later before I graduated, I looked up the email address for my professor. The class was large and there was no way he would remember me. But I had to tell him everything. I sent him an email with all the facts. His response was brief. I completed the reading. I didn't need to worry about it. I knew when I emailed him that my story would sound a little irrational. I knew psychologically that what I was doing was most likely unnecessary and extreme. But I was driven to neutralize the intense anxiety I felt. Hearing him say I did nothing wrong was the only thing that would appease me.
The tragedy in this story is that I wasted copious amounts of energy suffering over something that was not worthy of my diligent attention. But to me, it was monumental. It took over my mind and disrupted my peace for years. Imagine all the things I could have done if I stayed present instead of agonizing over something so minor. In my defense,I didn't know when I took that class at age 18 that my ability to think rationally was impaired by an illness called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I hadn't yet received treatment. I was at a disadvantage, as are all those who suffer from mental illness without help.
Even after getting on an effective medication, however, I still need techniques to compensate for the imbalance in my brain. During therapy this summer, I worked hard to stop mentally reviewing my behaviors. I also stopped seeking reassurance from friends and family that what I said or did was "okay." I learned to live with uncertainty- knowing that I can never be 100% sure about anything. The OCD mind wants total security and will do anything to create near-absolute certainty as possible. Sometimes it does this by jumping to conclusions and turning them in to truths. This is highly destructive to one's self-esteem. Definitively labeling myself as a liar felt more certain than not knowing one way or the other. Once I determined I was a liar, I "resolved" the issue by confessing to my professor. I couldn't rest until I did.
Now, I stop looking for certainty. I am learning to live my life instead of allowing it to pass me by while worrying about things I can't change or control. It is indescribably liberating. To "live in the moment" is to accept oneself- the imperfect, growing, changing, and learning self- and to move forward in faith, one moment at a time.
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