Chapter 3
My Malaise of Mental Illness
"In the quiet heart is hidden
Sorrow that the eye can't see."
—Susan Evans McCloud
M. Scott Peck, M.D. famously began his bestselling book, The Road Less Traveled, with an unforgettable three word phrase:
Life is Difficult. (0)
Dr. Peck is right.
Life is indeed challenging and painful—for everyone.
No one is exempt from life's crucibles and vicissitudes.
Moreover, there is little value in spending our time comparing, contrasting, and/or complaining about how your or my problems may differ in scale or scope from one another.
Why?
Because we cannot change who we are, where we were born, and many other elements of our life on this planet. Some variables are simply fixed facts upon which we have no control; and self-action leaders avoid focusing their mental, emotional, and physical energies on things we cannot control. Instead, we do everything in our power to harness that same energy onto things we can control, beginning with our own thoughts, speech, actions, attitudes, and beliefs.
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| My Personal marked up copy of M. Scott Peck's classic, which was published the year before I was born. |
My life has been no exception to Peck's proclamation about the inherent pain and difficulty of being a human being.
My life, admittedly, has been very blessed.
But, it has concurrently been very difficult.
The next three chapters chronicle my own personal, professional, and relational difficulties in great detail.
More importantly, these chapters describe the Self-Action Leadership principles and practices I diligently learned and then courageously and indefatigably applied in an effort to manage and/or transcend the crosses I have been called upon to bear.
I do not share these things to impress you by what a great self-action leader I am.
Rather, I share them to impress upon you the power that is created when SAL and Serendipity are synergized together over long periods of time in a sincere hope that YOU might similarly channel these same powers into your own life, career, and relationships.
REMEMBER: there is nothing inherently special about me.
But everything is special about SAL and Serendipity and the synergy summoned as they mix and mingle together in your life.
Such synergy has proven to be so productive in my own life, career, and relationships that it has produced a powerful paradox wherein my blessings and prosperity have steadily risen to the same stature of my terrors and trials. Moreover, with each day that passes along the tramway of my life's sometimes terrifying, but ultimately terrific trajectory, it becomes increasingly evident that the laws of compensation and compound interest have just begun to pour out their coffers of favors and fortunes into my life and career.
In other words, the best is still yet to come...
Making every last effort and struggle on my part infinitely worth it.
And now, without further ado, I present the TRUE Stories of my mental illness as they really happened...
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This chapter is divided into THREE (3) different sections, or PARTS.
PART 1: Explains what OCD is and how it is treated.
PART 2: Shares details of my own experience with OCD, anxiety, and depression.
PART 3: Recounts the steps I took to seek help, gain relief, and develop skills to effectively manage the disorder.
PART 1: What is OCD and How is it Treated?
Throughout my life, I have struggled with mental and emotional illness in the form of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder—more commonly referred to as "OCD"—and its accompanying anxiety and depression.
This devastating affliction burdens homes and stresses lives in every corner of society, including many high-profile persons from the present and past who suffer, or are believed to have suffered, from varying degrees of OCD and/or OCPD (obsessive-compulsive personality disorder)—a related, but distinct form of obsessive neurosis. These individuals represent a wide range of fields, including ART (Michelangelo), the MILITARY (Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson), SCIENCE (Charles Darwin and Albert Einstein), MUSIC (Ludwig van Beethoven, Katy Perry), BUSINESS and POLITICS (Estée Lauder, Steve Jobs, and Donald J. Trump), ATHLETICS (Ted Williams and David Beckham), and ENTERTAINMENT (Howie Mandel, Leonardo DiCaprio, Justin Timberlake, Cameron Diaz, et al.).
Common symptoms of OCD include: obsessive thoughts, compulsive behaviors, and a variety of anxieties that accompany both. For persons suffering with OCD, obsessive thoughts are obtrusive, unwanted and often evolve into agonizing ruminations that cause great mental, emotional, and sometimes physical distress.
Compulsive behaviors are then undertaken in an effort to reduce and relieve the anxiety produced by obsessive thoughts. Such actions often evolve into self-imposed rules and rituals that are irrational and unnecessary, yet become deeply imbedded habits and patterns of behavior that are difficult to break.
While everyone may experience some obsessive thoughts and/or compulsive behaviors, a person with clinical OCD experiences symptoms that noticeably interfere with normal, daily functioning and may consume significant amounts of time.
Causes of OCD
It is difficult—if not impossible—to identify exactly what causes OCD in a given person, but a combination of genetic, social, chemical, personal, and environmental variables is typically involved in its onset and exacerbation.
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| An obsessive fear of germs, combined with compulsive hand washing is a common symptom of those with OCD. |
Common OBSESSIONS include: intrusive doubting, unwanted sexual thoughts, committing religious blaspheme, incurring harm to self and others, and irrational fears of dirt, germs, and bodily fluids.
Cleanliness, neatness, orderliness, and symmetry are other themes upon which obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors thrive.
Typical COMPULSIONS include: checking, cleaning, ordering and organizing, repeating words and phrases, praying, and washing.
Excessive hand washing, in particular, is one of the more iconic and stereotypical OCD practices.
Compulsions can also involve—or be accompanied by—involuntary body, facial, and verbal "tics."
Trichotillomania (hair pulling) and/or Dermatillomania (skin picking) may also accompany an OCD diagnosis. I have personally struggled with the latter since I was in second grade. In fact, I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but as I type these words today (as a 45-year old grown man) I have a band-aid on my right middle finger and thumb—a result of skin biting and picking just this afternoon.
Over the course of my life, I have spent hundreds of dollars on thousands of band-aids and a commensurate amount of Neosporin salve to treat the ever-recurring symptoms of my self-inflicted wounds—a tell-tale sign of dermatillomania. 
One of my mental health professionals once explained OCD to me in the following way...
Cognitive Therapy (CT) focuses on what a patient is thinking.
10 Cognitive Distortions
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At first glance, this approach may sound cruel and self-flagellating. And initially, ERP will almost certainly increase a person's anxiety—sometimes severely so—at least in the short-run.
Pharmacotherapy or medicinal approaches—i.e. drug treatments—are also commonly used to treat OCD.
Homeopathy is a lesser-known treatment method for OCD.
Coarsely Crossed
I grew up in a religious family that valued faith, family, fellowship, and freedom. Moreover, I was—by nature and from an early age—sensitive to religious and spiritual matters. Adding OCD to this personality and mimetic mix concocted a toxic cognitive-emotional cocktail to my life, causing me to develop a strain of OCD known as "Religious OCD"—abbreviated as ROCD (8)—and also referred to as "Scrupulosity." (9)
Being thus worried that I was sinning by simply having a sexual thought, my obsessive mind reflexively became preoccupied with sex—and not in any kind of sexually charged way; but rather in a purely cognitive, neurotic, and self-flagellating way. Virtually any female I would see would trigger the unwanted, obtrusive obsession, and I would become anxious that others would discover my thoughts.
I also became fearful of blood—my own, and that of others. My fear was borne out of a dubious association between blood (generally speaking) and a concomitant fear of contracting Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS)—a condition caused by the Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV).
Accompanying my blood, germ, and religious obsessions was a growing fixation on my need to be completely and totally honest—often to an inane and irrational degree. It was an obsession that would torment me for many years to come, and that still troubles me to varying degrees. While it stemmed from an inherently positive pursuit and noble quest—it soon became pathological as OCD's grip began to tighten its grip and squeeze.
The SECOND event happened the same year (9th grade). That fall, I'd procured a license to hunt mule deer—which were pervasive in southeastern Utah where I grew up.
Before I finally gave up, I did manage to make about a dozen sales. However, at the end of the summer, I discovered that I had charged many of my customers the wrong sales tax percentage. It was a slight error of mere tenths or even hundredths of a percent per customer. In fact, the error was so small that Cutco was apparently under no legal obligation to follow up with the customer and fix my error because they never said anything to me about it. Like my inadvertent mistruth while deer hunting, this issue should have been an easy "water under the bridge" distinction in my mind.
Nevertheless, I fastidiously totaled each order up to the very last cent and then mailed refunds to a dozen or so customers with a detailed, formal business letter explaining my mistake, the numbers involved, and the alleged misappropriated funds—which in several cases amounted to less than the stamp it cost to send it in the mail.
I exhibited a propensity for academic achievement early on in my educational journey. In elementary school, I got mostly A-grades. I also scored above average on most standardized tests.
As I've struggled with OCD, anxiety, and depression over the years, I've fallen prey to all ten (10) of Dr. David Burns' Cognitive Distortions shared previously.
Several months later, in January 1997, I had my first visit with a psychiatrist at the University of Utah Mental Hospital in Salt Lake City—a five hour drive from Monticello. I saw the same doctor who had diagnosed my father with bipolar disorder the previous summer. This psychiatrist officially diagnosed me with OCD and wrote me a prescription for Luvox (Fluvoxamine).
I have always felt a measure of frustration at my—and the medical community's—inability to precisely pinpoint exactly what was making me feel better (or worse) along my ongoing mental health journey. One of the realities with which I have had to make peace is that pharmacotherapy (medicinal / chemical / drug treatments) is both an imperfect and an imprecise science that requires a measure of old-fashioned "trial and error" to maximize its efficacy.
Due to my continuing struggles with OCD my senior year in Spokane, I met twice with a counselor at the social services division of my Church. Later that fall, after graduation, I attended two additional counseling sessions with a therapist in Denver, Colorado, to whom I had been referred by a maternal Aunt, who kindly paid the bill for my psychotherapy.
17. Wordsworth, W. in Rolfe, W. J., editor (1889). Select Poems of William Wordsworth. Google Books version. New York, NY: Harper & Brothers. Pages 120-121.
This particular obsession and compulsion has been the single most difficult symptom of OCD I have ever faced or sought to address, battle, and resolve. No matter what I have tried over the years—and I've tried several different methods of treatment, including professional psychotherapy—I have never managed to completely or permanently break this insidious and deeply-rooted compulsive habit.
As you continue to read through my narrative on mental health, you will notice that I have made a lot of progress in most areas of my struggle with OCD, anxiety, and depression. But alas, I confess that my struggle with dermatillomania not only persists, but remains at the forefront of my ongoing difficulties and frustrations with the disorder.
It is currently only about 20-30% resolved.
You may recall from BOOK the SECOND, Chapter Two, where I shared the story about how I resolved to stop sucking my finger when I reached my tenth (10th) birthday. I attempted the same goal—with regards to dermatillomania—when I turned 40. At the time, I believed I would be similarly successful. But it was not to be. My resolve to leave my fingers alone lasted only for a month-or-so before I fell off the wagon.
I am now 46 years old and have never entirely gotten back on the wagon since.
Despite the seemingly insurmountable nature of this particular obsession and compulsion, I am a firm believer that HOPE springs Eternal. As such, I will never give up hope that I may—with the ongoing aid of SAL and Serendipity—beat this affliction. However, the fact that I still struggle so much with this element of OCD is a testament to the fiendish nature of the beastly struggle.
OCD's Insidious CYCLE
OCD manifests itself as a three-step, CYCLICAL process.
The first step involves intrusive, unwanted, obsessive thoughts that trigger anxiety. The second step involves carrying out a ritualistic, compulsive behavior aimed at alleviating the anxiety. The third step involves a feeling of momentary or temporary relief engendered by engaging the compulsion. If step three were to occur without becoming a pattern or cycle, there would be little to no problem.
The disorder arises from the fact that any relief experienced on step three is short-lived. Instead of garnering permanent relief from the anxiety, step three merely triggers a new obsessive thought.
This insidious pattern then painfully repeats itself over-and-over-and-over again unless and/or until a combination of time, therapy and/or medication, and personal growth breaks the cycle.
OCD's Insidious CYCLE
The Window Screen Metaphor
All human beings have a variety of potential thoughts waiting to enter their minds at any given moment. However, our brains have a filtering process—a cognitive screen of sorts—which filters out most of the thoughts that would be perceived as obtrusive or unwanted.
For those with OCD, however, the "HOLES" in the cognitive screen become enlarged, allowing a host of thoughts to pass through that would typically not rise to the level of conscious thought for most people.
There is evidence to believe that certain medications, referred to as Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors, or SSRI's for short, may decrease the size of these "holes," thereby preventing some (and perhaps even many or most) obsessive thoughts from slipping past one's cognitive filter. Symptom alleviation for many patients—including myself—serves to anecdotally corroborate this medicinal hypothesis.
In other words, SSRI's really can help.
They certainly have helped me!
The Impact of OCD on Loved Ones
Having OCD can produce negative effects and impacts on significant others, family members, friends, and colleagues. In fact, a substantial percentage of those with severe OCD do not marry and those who do wed tend to tie the knot later in life and have trouble sustaining healthy marriages. (1)
These deleterious effects can impact friends and other family members as well. In serious cases, these effects can include "serious disruption of family functioning and overt conflict." (2)
While serving my two-year church mission from 1999-2001, my Mission President suggested to me that my OCD would influence and affect my role as a husband and father. I interpreted his observation as an important warning about my future. To me his caveat was clear: if I did not get help and learn to manage my OCD at a high level, I would have problems in a future marriage and family. Even worse, it might prevent me from getting married and having a family in the first place.
This potential projection scared me, albeit in the most positive and productive way possible.
I deeply—even desperately—desired to avoid failure in marriage and family life, and I earnestly sought to avoid damaging future family relationships with my OCD. These authentic, sincere, and deep desires motivated me to attack my OCD with great determination and exceptional vigor both during and after my missionary service.
My father's bipolar disorder had severely strained my parents' marriage, and my hyperawareness of those consequences further factored in my decision to proactively seek out treatment and the determination to see it through to completion. I yearned for emancipation from my OCD and its concomitant anxiety and comorbid depression. But I also knew that an authentic pathway to real freedom would not be traveled quickly, nor would it be achieved easily.
Nevertheless, I held out great HOPE that if I was willing to pay the price in time and effort (SAL) then Serendipity would empower me with whatever else I might need to succeed.
In the end, my hope was not in vain, as the balance of this chapter carefully chronicles.
Methods of Treatment
There are many methods of treating OCD.
The two (2) most common are Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (CBT)—including Exposure-Reponse Prevention (ERP)—and pharmacotherapy, also referred to as medication or drug treatments.
Other, lesser known treatment options include: Homeopathy, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), Progressive Relaxation Training (PRT), repetitive Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (rTMS), and in extreme cases, neurosurgery.
My experience with treatment includes CBT, ERP, and medication in conjunction with self-help and religious and spiritual practices (e.g. prayer and fasting).
Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy
Behavioral Therapy (BT) focuses on what a patient is saying and doing.
When you combine the two, the goal of Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is to rationalize, minimize, diminish—and where possible eliminate—obsessive thought patterns and processes and their accompanying compulsive behaviors and habits.
CBT is usually undertaken with a help of a licensed professional, such as a professional counselor or clinical psychologist or psychiatrist. Generally speaking, CBT—including Exposure Response Prevention (ERP), which is an OCD-centric form of CBT and will be explained in the next section—is considered the BEST method for treating OCD. The reason CBT and ERP are so effective in the long-run is because they target the genesis of the obsessive-compulsive neurosis and then reprogram a patient's thoughts and actions in new and healthy ways.
I can attest to the primal importance of CBT in treating OCD, anxiety, and depression. This form of psychotherapy has been absolutely essential to my long-term success in managing OCD.
As part of my CBT, I was introduced to Dr. David Burns' list of cognitive distortions—which effectively and succinctly summarize the essence of most neurotic patterns of thought and behavior.
- All or nothing thinking
- Overgeneralization
- Mental filter
- Disqualifying the positive
- Jumping to conclusions
- Magnification (catastrophizing) or minimization
- Emotional reasoning
- Should statements
- Labeling and mislabeling
- Personalization (3)
My own obsessive-compulsive and emotional neurosis was impacted by most (if not all) of these cognitive distortions. Thus, my personal and therapeutic goals were to escape the shackles of these errors in thinking, many of which had a grim stranglehold on me. I desperately wanted to see things as they really were, as opposed to the way my troubled mind made them appear or seem. By applying insights from my CBT-oriented counseling sessions, I was able to confront and replace cognitive distortions with clearer and more accurate images of reality.
This, in time, led me to achieve much personal growth and freedom.
Exposure Response Prevention
Exposure Response Prevention—known as ERP—is one of the most prominent and beneficial methods of CBT for treating obsessive-compulsive disorder.
ERP is a counterintuitive healing method that requires a patient to confront the very thoughts one is trying to avoid by consciously focusing on them until they begin to lose their power and loosen their grip on one's mind. The patient must then refuse to engage any accompanying compulsions.
Similar methods are often utilized in the treatment of phobias.
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However, if a patient courageously persists, his or her anxiety will gradually diminish over time. The more one "Exposes" and "Responds" to their OCD in this manner, the more power and freedom one will gain as OCD symptoms begin to shrivel up and lose their power and influence. Repeated mental and physical "Exposures" can eventually lead to a welcomed reprieve from both an obsession and its concomitant compulsion.
OCD is a BULLY.
ERP empowers a patient to stand up to one's bully until it backs down and stops tormenting him or her.
ERP can be so effective that in some cases a patient's OCD symptom may die out completely—although such an ideal scenario is usually the exception rather than the rule.
In my own experience, most obsessions and compulsions are never entirely terminated. Rather, they are managed to a greater or lesser extent. Thus, even in the best-case scenarios, a given obsession or compulsion will likely linger to some degree. But I have found that if I can get to the point where I am successfully managing a given symptom 85-90-percent of the time, I usually consider that a huge success worth celebrating.
ERP is not easy.
Conducting it successfully takes a lot of courage, commitment, and consistency, and is ideally undertaken under the careful supervision of a licensed, professional counselor.
But the long-term benefits almost always outweigh the short-term anxiety and pain. Indeed, research continually validates ERP as one of the BEST methods for treating OCD. Research further corroborates that ERP and other forms of Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy have the capacity to positively affect—and even alter—brain chemistry in the long-run. This fact is salient and significant because it means that ERP may be able to permanently accomplish what medication alone can only temporarily manipulate and palliate.
From my own extensive experiences, I can vouch enthusiastically for CBT's and ERP's capacity to alter brain functioning and decrease my OCD symptoms in the long-run. By committing to extensive—and in some cases extended—CBT-oriented psychotherapy and ERP, I've been able to drastically reduce—and in some cases largely eliminate many strains of both obsessions and compulsions that plagued me in the past
Medicinal (DRUG) Treatments
Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs) are typically the drugs of choice for psychiatrists and other medical professionals prescribing medicinal treatments for OCD.
Common examples of SSRIs used to treat OCD include: citalopram (Celexa), escitalopram (Lexapro), fluoxetine (Prozac), paroxetine (Paxil), and sertraline (Zoloft).
Other drugs used to treat OCD include the tricyclic antidepressant (TCA) clomipramine (Anafranil), the serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor (SNRI) venlafaxine (Effexor), and the benzodiazepine (BZD) alprazolam (Xanax).
Common side effects of these drugs include lethargy, restlessness, and dizziness. Sexual side effects are also common, although they are often minor and can be acceptably managed.
Pharmacotherapeutic approaches are an imperfect science requiring a degree of "Trial-and-Error" to maximize efficacy for any given person. As such, an OCD patient should work closely with one's psychiatrist or prescribing doctor to achieve the right dosage over time in an effort to maximize benefits and minimize side effects.
A patient should also be prepared to exercise patience throughout this process because it takes time—and sometimes lots of it. Unlike a broken bone or other physical injury, which often comes with a set and predictable timetable for recovery, mental illnesses and issues are very unique in how they may differ from others experiencing similar challenges.
The effectiveness of one drug over another depends on a patient's symptoms and his or her unique genetic code and physiology. Moreover, family members tend to respond similarly to corresponding medicinal treatments because of their shared physical and genetic makeup. (4)
Since 1997, when I was first diagnosed with OCD, I have personally been treated by seven (7) different drugs for OCD, depression, dermatillomania, and other, related issues. I currently take two different medications every day—to my benefit.
Medication does not eradicate all my symptoms.
Nor can it replace CBT and ERP.
In fact, medicinal results are usually less impactful in the long-run than the benefits derived from CBT and ERP. Drug treatments can, however, serve to take the edge off of symptoms—making them more of a "faint hum in the background, rather than a blaring bugle in the foreground of a patient's mind and life." (5) This is especially true in the short-term and mid-term.
In the long-run, adjustments to medication will usually need to be made over time to maintain the same (or similar) results one has achieved in the past.
While medication can, and in many cases should, serve as a tool or weapon to combat mental illness, it should never be viewed as the weapon or tool. CRP, ERP, and other counseling-oriented psychotherapeutic approaches should always be a patient's PRIMARY treatment method. Thus, drug treatments are ultimately secondary or tertiary tools.
Rather than being considered a cure-all, medicinal approaches ought to be viewed as one method in a multi-tiered approach to effectively combatting mental illness.
Homeopathy and Self-Awareness
Australian Mark Simblist promotes homeopathic treatments that could potentially align effectively with SAL principles and practices. According to Simblist, homeopathic methods include: "a humane and caring approach" (6) that focuses on comprehensive treatment plans including:
- Different forms of vibrational medicine (e.g. flower or shell essences)
- Counseling, therapy, or group therapy
- Regression techniques to confirm facts (e.g. kinesiology, hypnotherapy)
- Various forms of energy clearing techniques, breath and bodywork
- Techniques to change a person's "core beliefs" (e.g. affirmations)
- Meditation and raised spiritual consciousness
- The homeopathic similimum (7)
While I do not have specific experience with homeopathic treatments for my own OCD, I am an advocate of Simblist's philosophy that therapy should be comprehensive, holistic, and promote self-reliance. I am also a proponent of trying a variety of different treatment options in a diligent and focused quest to find what therapeutic approach works best for each patient.
REMEMBER: While treatment methods for many physical maladies are fairly consistent from person-to-person, every case of mental illness (including OCD, anxiety, and depression) is singularly unique. There is, therefore, no "one-size-fits-all" treatment approach, nor is there a set timetable for—or guarantee of—healing. As such, the need for SAL character traits such as: determination, diligence, focus, proactivity, persistence, and vision may be even more important in combatting mental and emotional illness than they are in combatting physical illnesses and injuries.
PART 2:
Dr. JJ's Personal Experiences
with OCD, Anxiety, & Depression
Coarsely crossed, the angst-filled smart
Of agony did fill my heart.
An outgrowth of my humbling path,
Bedecked with the Refiner's wrath,
That ripped my soul and taxed my mind,
Beat me through life's unending grind,
That was ordained to make a king,
Who after night is o'er will sing
A thousand praises to the cause,
That aided an end to my flaws.
As for the realms of royal right,
I will transcend the cold, dark, night,
And gratefully begin to see,
The road into eternity's
A path that starts and ends with He—
And all between calls upon me!
—Dr. JJ
The Unpardonable Sin
One common pattern of obsessive-compulsive neurosis involves religion.
Some of the first severe OCD symptoms I experienced involved ROCD. My scrupulosity symptoms began in the late summer and early fall of 1992, when I was just starting junior high school (7th grade). At that point in time, I was still four years away from any awareness than I was suffering from a clinically diagnosable mental disorder.
According to my church's doctrine, the most serious of all sins is to "Deny the Holy Ghost" (10) and become a "Son of Perdition." (11) In this particular doctrinal case, the "devil" is truly in the "details"—monumentally meaningful minutia of which I was not initially aware. In my myopic mind's view, merely thinking—or subvocalizing the words: "I deny the Holy Ghost"—was tantamount to committing the unpardonable sin.
In this particular doctrinal case, those devilish details—the all-important footnotes—clarify that to commit the unpardonable sin, one must have a sure knowledge (eyewitness) of almighty God and then both deny and vehemently fight against Him and His work as a mortal enemy of goodness and light.
I, however, was not clear on these vital details at the time, and so my mind—newly afflicted and recently enflamed with OCD—began to obsessively ruminate that I was guilty of this heinous-of-all-crimes by involuntarily fixating (obsessing) on the mere thought of denial.
Such thoughts were, of course, anathema to me; and that's precisely what triggered and then fed the obsession.
OCD is a vicious bully that takes great glee in dangling everything a patient holds most dear over a cliff of cognitive distortions. Indeed, it is common for OCD to stir up massive amounts of cognitive, emotional, or spiritual angst about a patient's most precious beliefs, ideals, and relationships. And the more awful or repulsive the image or idea, the more OCD takes delight in replaying it over-and-over-and-over again—to the great distress of the patient.
In grave desperation, and naievly fearing for the welfare of my eternal soul, I broke down and shared my thoughts and fears with my parents. Lacking the education or experience to discern the symptoms of a mental disorder, they perceived my plight to merely be a case of childlike misunderstanding—which it certainly was.
Mom and Dad were not the slightest bit worried about my spiritual state or welfare, and being the concerned and loving parents that they were, simply explained the doctrinal "footnotes" and assured me I was in no danger of becoming a son of perdition.
These logical and loving clarifications eased my mind on the matter. Without knowing it, my parents had provided me with a powerful dose of cognitive therapy, and it worked! I never again struggled with a son of perdition obsession.
Unfortunately, this episode was just the beginning of my experiences with OCD, which immediately followed up on the son of perdition obsession by wrapping its toxic tentacles around a slew of new objects and subjects it knew would horrify me. Thus began a terrible and extended saga of cognitive (obsessive) and behavioral (compulsive) captivity in one prison cell after another—a severe and unrelenting sentence that would last for more than a decade to a greater extent, and for the rest of my life to a lesser extent. (12)
Unwanted Sexual Thoughts
Like religious-related obsessions and compulsions, unwanted sexual thoughts are also among the most commonly reported symptoms of OCD—and I was not spared!
As a teenager, I liked girls and was therefore naturally curious about female anatomy and sex. Most of my sexual thoughts, however, were not triggered by my natural sexual inclinations, but by my OCD—and more particularly by my ROCD.
The connection between religion and sexual thoughts stemmed from my Church's counsel to "avoid preoccupation with sexual thoughts," which is good advice for any teenager. However, at the time, I didn't understand the difference between "preoccupation with" and natural, passing thoughts on the subject. Thus, much like my son of perdition obsession, I conflated one with the other and was quick to "damn myself" for my self-supposed "sinful" thoughts.
It was a classic "Catch 22" and a wretched experience, to say the very least.
After a few weeks of horrific mental and spiritual anguish over this new obsession, I again went to my parents. Once more, they assured me I was okay. My father, who clearly—albeit erroneously—viewed my symptoms as the natural inclinations of a typical teenage boy, was especially comforting and reassuring, saying to me: "Jordan: there is not a thought you've thought that I haven't thought a lot more and a lot longer than you have."
Such an outpouring of attention, concern, empathy, and love from Mom and Dad made all the difference... but only for a few hours. While I went to bed that night feeling free and comforted again, I woke up the next morning to find that my mind had simply flipped a switch from obsessive heterosexual thoughts to obsessive homosexual thoughts.
Agonizing over this new variation on a theme, my suffering continued in earnest for another painful and poignant period of time, which amounted to several months this time around.
When I could take it no more, I went again—in tears this time—to my parents for the much-needed comfort and relief I had received from them previously. It was evident this time, however, that my parents were growing increasingly perplexed by the pattern developing in their sixth child—a pattern they had no previous experience with, with any of my other six (6) siblings. Thus, they lacked the education, experience, and wherewithal to help me in any significant way beyond momentary palliative sympathy and soothing. Completely unaware that a diagnosable mental disorder lay at the root of my affliction, they were simply running out of tools and ideas to further assist me.
Following this third, dramatic, tear-filled episode, I stopped opening up to my parents on a regular basis about my obsessions and compulsions—several of which had begun to accompany my sexual obsessions.
FIRST of all, it was difficult and embarrassing to disclose intimate details of such troubling thoughts to them. SECOND, I was beginning to sense that I likely had "miles to go before I slept" (13) with regards to my malicious and ever-morphing mental malaise. THIRD, because I myself was unaware that I had a treatable mental disorder, I increasingly began to accept the fact that there was something terribly wrong with me and I would simply have to learn to live with it while simultaneously hiding my compulsive symptoms from others as best I could.
The fall of 1992 was an especially hellish time as it was the first semester I had experienced severe OCD symptoms on an ongoing basis. I recall New Year's Eve 1992. I lay awake in my bed—and on my knees next to my bed—hoping, praying, begging, yearning for a miracle that I might wake up the next morning and greet the New Year with this inexplicably ponderous and painful burden lifted from off of my mind, heart, and soul.
It all seemed like a terrible nightmare and I desperately wanted to "Wake Up" and have it all just go away. I yearned for things to return to the way they were before I had been taken hostage by this horrific mental and emotional plague.
While I believe in miracles, the miracle I sought that night was never granted, leaving me to figure out how to best deal with the situation over an agonizingly extended period of time.
As my OCD continued to morph and evolve, some of the obsessions and compulsions I developed in relation to my unwanted sexual thoughts included the following:
- Excessive hand washing (also triggered by germ obsessions).
- When giving someone a hug, I would awkwardly contort my body to ensure the chest and/or genital areas of my fully-clothed body did not come into contact with the chest and/or genital areas of another fully-clothed person.
- I would sit in exaggeratedly awkward positions on chairs and couches to avoid making contact (through my clothes) with the seat and my genitals. My mind would further obsess over who had last sat in a given chair or couch and then add sexual thoughts with that person into the caustic cognitive cocktail.
- Avoid touching or washing my genitals while showering or bathing. This habit initially persisted for several months and led to a poor hygiene-related issue that only cleared up after I forced myself to begin washing properly again.
- While washing or folding laundry, I would refuse to the parts of underwear that would eventually come into contact with another person's genitals or buttocks. Since the job still had to be done, I concocted a very awkward method of handling the side edges of a pair of underwear in a crab-like "clipper" fashion, using my only my thumb and bended index finger. One of my sisters eventually noticed this behavior and started teasing me by calling me: "clipper boy." I did my best to laugh along with her and downplay my compulsion while concurrently developing stealthy techniques in an attempt to hide my compulsions from others.
Harm to Self and Others
Another struggle I faced with obsessive thoughts involved a fear that I would cause harm to come upon myself or others, either intentionally or arbitrarily.
For example, one evening I was with one of my older siblings in our home garage when the thought entered my mind of picking up a nearby hatchet and attacking my brother with it. My mind then began ruminating on the thought because it was such an awful thought. Or, while using a knife in the kitchen, I would have thoughts of turning the knife on a loved one standing nearby. Or, while out target or skeet shooting, I would have thoughts of turning and gunning down whatever friends or family members were shooting with me.
Such thoughts were, of course, utterly horrifying to me—and that is precisely why my OCD bully would target me with such tormenting ruminations.
Another strain of this obsession involved similar scenarios involving self-harm. For example, if I was hiking, running, or driving on a high mountain road or cliff, I would start to have obsessive thoughts of leaping to my death off the cliff or driving off the road to a similar demise. Or, I would experience obsessive thoughts of jerking the steering wheel while driving at high speeds on the freeway, inducing a potentially deadly rollover accident. Or, when I was at church (or elsewhere), I would ruminate that I was bashing my nose into the back of a pew, or brick wall, or other hard surface, causing massive bleeding and other physical damage.
I would also ruminate about terrible things happening to either myself or others if I did not perform a given compulsion. For example, if I did not say a prayer before leaving on a road trip, I would obsessively worry that I would get in a car accident. Or, that family members or friends driving to my hometown to visit us would get into an accident and die if I did not do my chores perfectly, or read my scriptures, or perform some other self-imposed ritualistic behavior before they arrived.
Another example is when I would be out running—something I did a lot of as a teenager—and would see a nail, broken bottle, or some other object that might potentially be a hazard to someone else passing (or driving) by. I would then feel an obsessive duty to remove or dispose of the item in a self-approved manner lest I be guilty of indirectly causing harm to whoever might later stumble precariously onto the object I had seen and carelessly passed.
In time, I learned to practice Exposure Response Prevention (ERP) and force myself to keep on running and not try and take responsibility for every potential hazard that might cross my path; otherwise, my runs would become far too interrupted, making me a little crazy.
As counterintuitive as it might seem, ERP actually helped me in managing the other symptoms described in this section as well.
Germs, Blood, and Steroids
Accompanying my sexual obsessions was a growing fear of germs—another classic OCD symptom. As previous mentioned, I became a compulsive hand-washer—albeit not to the same extent that marks even more severe cases of OCD.
My fear came from a factual association between blood and the transmission of HIV (and AIDS). My fear, however, was irrational because I was not engaging in any behaviors that carry the risk of HIV transmission. Even more irrational was my fear that I might infect or contaminate someone else with my own blood, despite not carrying any diseases myself.
Thus, in concert with my dermatillomania compulsion—which had actually begun earlier than any of my other OCD symptoms (as early as 2nd grade)—I compulsively wore band-aids and generally avoided objects I believe may have been exposed to blood (my own or someone else's).
These fears of contamination would often extend to several generations (or levels) of contact. In other words, I wasn't merely worried about coming into contact with someone's blood directly—or having someone else come into contact with my blood directly. I was also concerned I might touch something that had touched something else that may have brushed up against another thing which had, in-turn, come into contact with blood, germs, bacteria, human flesh, genitalia, etc.
It was extraordinarily irrational and neurotic, and it spawned an ongoing misery I was unable to escape for any significant length of time.
As I became more involved in athletics in high school, my germ, blood, and HIV/AIDS obsession evolved into an equally paranoid fear that I might inadvertently or unknowingly ingest anabolic steroids, which is, of course, against the rules. This fear and obsession combined and conflated with another obsession of mine—being 100% honest and always following "The Rules"—to form an absurd fear that I was going to be dishonest and break the rules by somehow inadvertently using steroids.
Even if I had wanted to use steroids, I didn't know of anyone in my rural community who had, used, or had access to them. I never had an opportunity to even see, much less use, a banned substance like steroids. Moreover, I have never had the slightest desire, temptation, or intention of doing so. Such a dual act (drug use mixed with dishonesty) was completely anathema to my character and personality.
Thus, you can clearly see how ridiculously irrational such a fear and obsession was.
But, an OCD-afflicted mind doesn't operate on rationality or reason.
It hijacks both and holds the patient hostage against their will and rational judgment. That is the very nature of the BEAST... and make no mistake: OCD is a hideous beast of monstrous proportions whose insatiable appetite grows ever hungrier the more you feed it by engaging in compulsions.
Speaking of which...
In response to these obsessions, I developed various compulsive behaviors involving when, where, and how I would sit, stand, move about, and wash and dress myself. Such behaviors dictated where I placed my personal belongings to avoid the seemingly calamitous event of accidentally ingesting steroids or picking up particles (however microscopic) of blood or germs that would eventually end up in my bloodstream.
For example, I was very uptight about my bare feet touching the floor and then touching my underwear as I dressed. I recall one day observing one of my older brothers get dressed after taking a shower and feeling jealous of his ability to put his clothes on with such ease and speed—without having to complete the tip-toeing, squirming, grimacing, heart-palpitating, and compulsive routine I had developed for the same purpose.
I recall another occasion when this same brother and I were camping with some family members. It was nighttime and we had laid down in our sleeping bags for the night when all of a sudden my brother slapped and killed a mosquito and then nonchalantly wiped the blood and guts off on his shirt and sleeping bag as if he was just taking another breath of air. I sat there eating my heart out at his lack of stress over the incident. Had it been me, I would have had to leap out of my sleeping bag, properly wash my hands, clean off all the blood and guts, dry my hands, and then go back to my sleeping bag and lie down again.
I often experienced these kinds of jealous feelings when I would observe the ease with which others around me seemed to live their lives in a virtually stress-free manner compared to the ticking "Stress-Bomb" (13a) that was always going off in my mind and heart.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder is E-X-H-A-U-S-T-I-N-G!
"These people have no idea how good they have it!" I would often think to myself.
During my junior year of high school, I became increasingly successful as a runner. As my victories and medals and local media coverage piled up, my fear-of-steroids-and-blood obsessions and compulsions grew ever more severe and tiring. It seemed as though the more races I won, the worse my symptoms became. It was as if my brain was intent on sabotaging the success—or at least the satisfaction of the success—I was increasingly enjoying. I experienced the worst of it in the two weeks leading up to the State Championship race in late October 1996.
As I packed for the trip, I obsessed about it. As my team and I rode up to Salt Lake City for the meet, I obsessed about it. In the hours leading up to the race itself, the obsessions and compulsions maintained a firm grip on my thoughts and behavior. Continual efforts to hide my compulsive symptoms required ever more conscious thought and energy.
It was exhausting...
And I still had the race to run!
Then, to make matters even worse, after the State Championship race—which I won—was over and I had received my champion's Gold Medal, I began to worry about a tiny sliver of the race where I had been confused about which direction to go. I had been in first place at the time and therefore had no one to follow. For a few brief seconds, I began running in the wrong direction (left) when I should have gone right. I quickly discovered my error and made the necessary course adjustment to get back on the correct course to the finish. Sounds simple and innocuous enough, but my mind was not satisfied. Instead, it began furiously obsessing over whether or not I had cheated and should be disqualified. In my mind, I had not covered the course with perfect precision and exactness and therefore may have been a candidate for disqualification.
The craziest part of my rationale in all this was that that in reality, my error had almost certainly caused me to run a few too many strides, not too few strides. In other words, my mistake actually hindered rather than helped my overall time and finish—albeit only by a second or two at most. And then there is the fact that it wasn't a close race; I finished 17 seconds ahead of the second place runner.
Nevertheless, this rational logic only marginally mitigated my obsession and misery in the matter.
In reality, I had absolutely nothing to worry about. But my mind refused to be comforted by rationality and reason in the matter, and I ended up stressing about this for several years after the race was a thing of the past. I became so worried I had somehow broken a rule and cheated that I even considered contacting the Utah High School Athletic Association (UHSAA) to confess my error and forfeit my Gold Medal.
No matter that my error was extremely minor. No matter that my error almost certainly hindered rather than helped my race. No matter that I won the race by 17 seconds. No matter that no judge had flagged me for any reason. None of this rationality or reason held full sway with my OCD-afflicted mind. The bottom line in my brain was that maybe I was an illegitimate State Champion; maybe I was a cheater; maybe I was a fraud.
Now you know why they call it the "Doubting Disease!"
The Devil himself couldn't have been more effective at tormenting my flame-scorched mind and soul.
I was in Hell!
Fortunately, after a lot of CBT and ERP, I eventually made peace with this absurd scenario, and no longer worry about it today. Thus, there is no doubt in my mind that I was the complete, legitimate, and honest 2A State Champion at Sugar House Park in Salt Lake City on Wednesday, October 30, 1996. (13b)
HONESTY... the Best Policy?
This obsession was an outgrowth of Religious OCD or ROCD and led me to obey the absolute Letter of the Law—its impact on relationships be damned. Unable to comprehend the overly pious attitude and spirit involved, my personality increasingly morphed into something of a well-intentioned, but profoundly myopic and socially unpopular Pharisee.
I can trace this honesty obsession back to two (2) specific events.
The FIRST event took place in my ninth grade Seminary (religious) class, where I was reintroduced to a verse of scripture I had already read several times previously. This time, however, it struck my mind with obsessive force and refused to let go.
The verse read: "Woe unto the liar, for he shall be thrust down to hell."
I had always been an inherently honest person. It wasn't in my nature to lie, cheat, steal, or manipulate. Nevertheless, something in my brain snapped that particular day in ninth grade when I read about liars being hurled to Hades and my mind became seized-up by a fresh new crop of honesty obsessions and compulsions that were unnecessarily extreme.
As this obsessive-compulsive strain evolved, my personality became increasingly distant and austere; and my behavior became increasingly perplexing and off-putting to others, thus further damaging my social life.
One day, I was hunting on my dad's land with my cousin. As we took turns shooting at deer off in the distance, a pickup truck came rolling along a nearby dirt road. When it arrived, a man got out of the truck and asked us where we had been pointing our high-powered rifles. He was understandably interested and concerned because his home (and family) was about three-quarters of a mile or so southeast from where we had been shooting.
As he point blank asked me if we had been shooting in the direction of his house, my mind nervously replayed the shots we'd taken, most of which were toward the west, and I quickly blurted out that we had not taken any shots in the direction of his home.
But, almost immediately after I had said this, I remembered that while most of our shooting had indeed been to the west, we had also taken a few shots to the east—in the general direction of his home. As this realization dawned on me, I immediately began to feel sick to my stomach, knowing I had told the man—at very best—a half-truth.
Already feeling anxious from the man's unexpected confrontation, I was too afraid to admit my accidental deception, which had taken place inadvertently before my full recollection of all the facts. After calmly and cordially imparting a word or two about safe hunting practices, the man got back into his vehicle and returned to his home.
As my cousin and I rode home that night on our four-wheel ATV (all-terrain vehicle), I was beside myself knowing I had not been completely honest with the man. The fact that my partial fib had been unintentional and committed in the heat of a high-pressured moment brought me little or no solace. The fact was that I had told a lie, and therefore supposed that I was in danger of hell fire if I did not fully repent.
For the better part of the next year, I might as well have been damned to hell because of the mental and spiritual anguish I suffered over that single inadvertent mistruth. I replayed the incident in my mind and reflected upon it over-and-over-and-over again. As I did so, the guilt, fear, and anxious agony I suffered reached proportions of the most poignant extremity.
The feelings it produced within me were indescribably agonizing and troubling.
On countless occasions, I contemplated going back to the man's house to confess my "lie" and apologize, but as bad as my obsessive guilt was, my social fear of further confrontation and confession was even worse. Every time I would drive by his home, and on countless other occasions, the obsessive guilt and vacillations about what to do would return.
My mind, heart, and spirit could find no peace or rest.
It was about this time that I began to notice that my obsessive thoughts tended to swoop down and attack me at the very moments I was feeling happiness, joy, or peace—thus sucking the goodness out of whatever positive emotions or happiness I would begin to enjoy. The disorder was, in this way, an insidious enemy of my happiness, inner peace, and well-being.
For example, one night, as I lay in bed thinking about my potential as a competitive middle-distance runner, I was filled with a spontaneous, joyful anticipation about the future. It was a wonderful feeling that filled my mind and heart with excitement and happiness. In the midst of this joy, however, my obsessive brain almost immediately reminded me of the accidental mistruth I had told while hunting. Suffice it to say, much of the moment's erstwhile joy was summarily squelched and swallowed up in anxiety, fear, guilt, stress, and worry.
This hellish experience lasted for about nine months, at which point I could take it no more. Mustering up all my courage and praying for strength, I returned to the man's house one Sunday afternoon immediately following the conclusion of church services. I knocked on his door, confessed my error, and apologized.
He was probably very surprised to see me on his doorstep, and was probably even more shocked to hear what I had to say; but, to his credit, he was gracious, kind, and understanding under the circumstances—for which I was grateful!
Finally, I could once again know peace!
But... there was one, BIG problem.
However morally noble my confession may have been in theory, it actually had the counterproductive practical consequence of further fueling my OCD.
Why?
Because my ultimately unnecessary confession played right into OCD's insidious cycle, meaning that I would continue to feel the need to compulsively confess for similar inadvertent mistruths in the future—whether it was morally necessary or not.
The truth is that as human beings, we all tell inadvertent mistruths or even accidental untruths from time-to-time. It's just part of being an imperfect, mortal communicator. If everyone were to confess every slight deviation from "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth" that they ever uttered, human communication would become chaotic, confusing, and unwieldy.
The moral fact of the matter is that there is a difference between a malicious lie and an inadvertently mistruth. Malicious lies are bad and restitution should be made for them. But an inadvertent mistruth can usually be chalked up to reasonable human error best categorized as "water under the bridge" and "I'll do better next time."
Instead of recognizing that my mistruth had been inadvertent—a mistake rather than a sin—and forgiving myself while committing to do better in the future (Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy), I fed more deeply into my own OCD cycle by refusing to be comforted unless I completed my own self-imposed compulsion, which, in this case involved an overt confession.
Had I understood the true nature of the situation—and the role my actions played in it—I would have applied the CBT described above and then followed it up with Exposure Response Prevention (ERP) to the incident by forcing myself to not confess until the anxiety and guilt eventually lost its power and control over me.
Giving in to compulsions guarantees not only that the obsessions will return, but increases the likelihood that they'll return with even greater force and malignity in the future. Because I played right into OCD's insidious cycle, this incident became the first of many where the only solution was a forced confession to a perceived "authority figure" or other relevant person. Many of these confessions were unnecessary, damaging to my social life and reputation, provided me with only temporary relief, and simply fed into the same obsession and compulsion—thus reigniting negative cycle after negative cycle.
Now, just to be crystal clear: had I purposely lied to the man, or placed him or his family in further danger because of my deceit, a confession and/or other amelioration and restitution of the situation would certainly be merited—and necessary—from both a moral and practical standpoint.
But an inadvertent mistruth that had no clear-cut consequence or direct bearing on future events was a different matter. Just imagine how stressed out and socially awkward we would all be if we were constantly holding ourselves to such an impossibly high standard of communication that demanded an immediate and exact correction of every accidental inaccuracy or minor misstatement!
Politicians, pundits, lawyers, journalists, and many other communication-centric professionals would all have to quit their jobs immediately and never re-enter their fields!
What really mattered most in this situation was that my cousin and I allow the experience to turn us into safer hunters who were more aware of our surrounding when pulling the triggers of high-powered rifles—a lesson that was deeply underscored for us both that day!
The deeper I plunged into this new strain of obsessive thinking and compulsive confessing, the more my mind punctiliously policed my every word and deed. The slightest deviation from the absolute truth, regardless of the situation, became intolerable to my obsessive-compulsive conscience.
Amidst the magnified myopia of my mind in the matter, I simply could not comprehend that completely honest communication in every particular is not only unrealistic, but also unkind and unwise. To wit: sometimes my compulsive confessions and apologies did more harm than good. They also created awkward social situations for myself and others. At their best, other people were left confused and/or sympathetic to my pitiable plight. At their worst they were irritated and/or offended by my bizarre and off-putting behavior.
Over long periods of time (years and even decades) I have thankfully come to recognize the difference between intentionally misleading someone and accidentally neglecting to mention every conceivable minor detail. I have also come to discern the clear difference between outright lying and omitting certain information for relevant reasons, or compassionately embellishing (or downplaying) out of concern for another person's feelings or welfare.
For example, if you visit someone's home and they ask you what you think of their new renovations—or the dessert they offered you at supper—is it kind, or right, or wise to say that you honestly think their décor is tacky, or their dessert is disgusting?
Or, if a five-year old queries about the word "rape," is it in the child's best interest to provide a wholly accurate definition of such an adult term?
Mentally healthy persons clearly understand and instinctively comprehend these distinctions; however, in the midst of my OCD-afflicted mental malaise, I was often confused and conflicted about them.
Another related strain of obsessive thoughts and compulsive apologies that accompanied my penchant for absolute honesty involved a fear of offending other people. I would, of course, go to great lengths to avoid offending others in the first place—because, if possible, I wanted to avoid having to confess and/or apologize to the person I had offended, or, perhaps just as commonly, to the person I believed I had offended. In other words, I would sometimes confess and/or apologize for giving offense only to have the other person respond in surprise because they had not taken any offense in the first place!
At best, people appreciated that I was trying so hard to be kind and sensitive. At worst, they were annoyed at my oversensitivity and sought to avoid me in the future.
As a means of mollifying the intense guilt, fear, and anxiety produced by my OCD, I became addicted to whatever "reassurances" I could obtain from real (or perceived) authority figures. In other words, I continually sought for the same kind of loving reassurances my parents had granted me when I first approached them about my religious and sexual obsessions. Sometimes this involved confessing and/or apologizing to a person I believed I had hurt or offended in some way. Other times it involved confessing to a scholastic, ecclesiastic, or some other real or perceived authority figure.
Such reassurances always gave me temporary peace of mind and relief. What I did not understand at first—and for several years thereafter—was that it was all part of a negative PATTERN, which played right into the hands of OCD's insidious cycle of: OBSESSION, COMPULSION, RELIEF, and REPEAT.
OCD's Insidious Cycle
Sales Tax Refunds
In between my junior and senior years of high school, during the summer of 1997, I joined a sales team managed by my oldest brother whereby I began peddling Cutco Cutlery in my hometown and surrounding areas.
I once heard my Uncle, Hyrum W. Smith—a master class salesman—say that "people do not try sales; sales tries people... and it chews up and spits out about 95 percent of them." Uncle Hyrum was right about his assessment of the general population and sales; and it only took me a couple of weeks to figure out that I was clearly not one of the 5 percenters.
It took a good deal longer for me to fully accept and admit this deeply deflating reality. Aside from being dissatisfied with myself, it pained me to disappoint my older brother—who I admired and, like Uncle Hyrum, was a natural salesman who had already enjoyed a decorated career in something at which I was so clearly a failure.
But the enemy within—my OCD—wasn't about to let me off so easy!
Instead of chalking it up to just one of those things, not sweating the small stuff, and moving on, my mind became filled with guilt, worry, and concern. After stewing over the situation for several weeks, I finally gave in to a compulsion to find relief.
I went through all the receipts from my summer sales and calculated exactly how much excess sales tax I had accidentally charged each customer. By the numbers, my error amounted to mere pocket change—the kind you find in between your couch cushions on any given day. In fact, the largest order of the entire summer (over a thousand dollars) merited less than a $3 refund. Every other order merited less than a $1 refund, and the refund on most orders amounted to a few nickels or dimes.
I can only imagine how surprised the recipients of those letters must have been to open my letter and find a nickel and a few pennies, or a dime, or a quarter, etc. I'm sure that many of them smiled—or maybe even laughed out loud. Others probably shook their heads and felt sorry for me. Some might have admired my integrity in the matter; however, the legal and/or ethical and moral need to fix such a miniscule error remains dubious in my mind to this day. There was never any proof I had actually done anything wrong, or that Cutco hadn't fixed the error on their end.
So many questionable suppositions!
Bottom line: my diseased brain had judged that I was in the wrong and I would find no peace until I had engaged in whatever compulsion my troubled mind deemed necessary and appropriate to make proper restitution.
Being under no external or legal requirement to take any action, it would have been a good opportunity for me to practice Exposure Response Therapy and "not sweat the small stuff" by just "letting it go." Unfortunately, I still did not know anything about ERP, and therefore assumed I was not only doing the right thing, but the only tenable thing, morally speaking.
I was caught up in a damnable mind trap, and I would remain imprisoned unless and/or until I could learn that the only authentic way to break the insidious cycle would be to stand up to it and show it who was boss. In other words, I needed Cognitive Behavioral Therapy in conjunction with Exposure Response Prevention. Until I received necessary doses of both kinds of treatment, the awful cycle would continue.
Thus, the awful cycle did continue.
OCD and School
But, as OCD began to take hold of my brain, behavior, and life, my academic success began to commensurately suffer.
OCD was not the sole source of my scholastic slide. Beginning in 5th grade, I also struggled with higher-level mathematics. Up until that point, I had demonstrated outstanding abilities with simple arithmetic and the memorization of the times tables. My difficulties began as algebraic elements were introduced into the curriculum.
I have always been good with letters and numbers and pride myself on my literacy and numeracy. But I began struggling with math as soon as it began involving both letters and numbers together. There is something about combining the two that causes my brain to rebel and go to mush!
Moving forward into junior high and high school, I faced similar challenges in science, particularly biology, in which I scored D-grades. To this day, I struggle similarly with electronics and technology and tend to be "all thumbs" when it comes to the higher level operation of gadgets, computers, tools, appliances, etc.
My preeminent interest in athletics and general lack of motivation (laziness) in my schoolwork were also to blame for my secondary academic struggles.
OCD conspired on top of everything else to make things even worse.
Seventh (7th) grade was particularly hellish. It was unquestionably the worst school year of my entire formal education, which spanned 19 years of time. It was also the worst year of my entire life because it marked that extra precarious point in time when OCD was at its newest, strongest, and most poignant zenith in my life.
I don't suppose there are many human beings out there who speak overly fondly of their junior high (or middle school) years; but, my bullies—including OCD and some animate schoolyard foes—made mine extra unpleasant.
Part of the trial was the atmosphere of junior high. I was already extra sensitive to moral, religious, and spiritual things. Add OCD to the mix and junior high seemed to be a stinking cesspool of indecency, degradation, and disrespect.
I was horrified by the profanity and other foul language and jokes I heard in hallways, classrooms, and the boys' locker room. And I was mortified by the way students talked about sex and in some cases had already had sexual experiences.
For example, I'll never forget one day in my seventh grade English class when a friend of mine repeated something a girl in our class had told him. She had allegedly said: "I f----- four different guys last night." I was aghast. I glanced over at the girl, who looked completely exhausted and a little "high."
She was only in seventh grade!
Elementary school had been an innocent bubble of childlike bliss compared to this disdainful den of jejune debauchery.
While nothing particularly bad happened to me personally in seventh grade, the relentless barrage of OCD triggers led me to despise much of the time I spent in school. I loved to be home and hated going to campus. A measure of peace and relief would fill my mind and heart as I hopped on my bicycle to head for home at the end of each school day—especially on Friday afternoons or before a long weekend or holiday.
Returning to school each new day became a dreaded chore. Plus, the more I suffered from obsessive thinking and compulsive behaviors, the less I cared about my grades.
While I still got good grades (A's and B's) in seventh grade, the lofty ambitions for academic excellence and rigor I had cultivated as a grade schooler began to gradually deteriorate. Between my increasing struggles in math and science and my worsening OCD, I just didn't have the bandwidth to shoot for the scholastic "stars" anymore.
In between seventh and eighth grades, my family moved from suburban Mesa, Arizona back to rural Monticello, Utah—the obscure community where I was born and raised up the first seven years of my life. At age 14, and in the thick of my undiagnosed battle with OCD, my family's move back to small town Utah was a blessing because it simplified my life and added an element of innocence back into my experiences at school and beyond.
It was, however, just the beginning of my honesty obsessions and compulsions, which would plague me throughout the rest of junior high and high school.
Just like everything else in my life, I began to take my schoolwork to unrealistic extremes when it came to "honesty." When I would receive an assignment, I would mentally assess what my personal, perfectionistic standards would be in order to complete the work with acceptable integrity. These standards were self-imposed and mostly unnecessary. Because of the extra mental stress and physical effort required to adhere to the letter of my own self-imposed "rules," I would sometimes neglect to turn-in, finish, or even start an assignment because completing it "honestly" was simply not worth the extra effort and anxiety it required.
Indeed, it started to become easier mentally and emotionally to just not do certain assignment and accept a ZERO-grade.
Other times I would feel guilty when I would score higher than I felt I deserved.
One concrete example of this phenomenon occurred my sophomore year in high school in my Advanced Placed (A.P.) American history class. My assignment was to write an essay on a given historical topic. I had not done the reading for the assignment. However, history has always been a strong subject for me, so I decided to just do my best using whatever background knowledge and common sense I possessed at the time. In other words, I did a measure of "guessing" on my essay. I did not consult anyone else and completed all the work by myself.
When I got the paper back, my score was 92 out of 100, which constituted an A-grade.
Almost immediately, I began to feel guilty.
In my mind, I hadn't honestly earned a score that high because I'd done too much "guessing." In my mind, to honestly earn an A-grade on the assignment, I would have to complete a self-imposed amount of homework, including reading, studying, and pondering the topic before I wrote my essay—all actions I had not taken prior to penning my A-grade essay. Furthermore, the fact that I had "guessed" on some of the information meant I didn't really know it for sure; and in my mind, "winging it" was peripherally tantamount to cheating.
To make matters worse, this particular essay was one of the last assignments and grades of the semester. Considering I received a D-plus (D+) grade for the fourth quarter (14), I reasoned it was possible that my A-grade on the essay might be the only score keeping me from failing the class. I then rationalized that if I had gotten the grade I really "deserved" on that paper, I might have gotten an F-grade instead of a D-plus grade; and if I failed the class, then I would be ineligible to run cross-country my junior year, which was the year I ended up winning the 2A State Championship as an individual and team.
That summer, between my sophomore and junior years, I replayed this theoretical grading scenario ad nauseum in my mind. Maybe I really shouldn't be eligible to run cross-country after all.
What should I do?
The correct answer was to engage Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy until I recognized there was nothing morally wrong with the approach I took to complete my essay—and then practice Exposure Response Prevention until I eventually broke OCD's insidious cycle and its iron grip of guilt on my mind.
The last thing I should have done was confess to an authority figure.
But, I was still several months away from an official diagnosis of my disorder, and several years away from understanding ERP. So, I did what I felt I had to do to find peace, which was give in to my compulsion to confess.
A few days after school started my junior year, I went to talk to my A.P. American history teacher from the previous year. Even at the time, a part of me questioned my perceived necessity in doing so. I was also sufficiently socially conscious to recognize that she might think I was a little bit weird, if not crazy, to make such a confession.
Moreover, making a confession for such a thing was also embarrassing.
After all, who worries about things like this, especially as a teenager?
I understood rationally that my behavior did not constitute actual cheating. Indeed, it was well within the realms of what other upstanding and honest students would do without hesitation. Moreover, I knew that no one else would return to confess for such a thing.
But my OCD would not let the issue rest.
I do not remember exactly what I said to the teacher when I returned to confess, but whatever she said in return provided me with sufficient reassurance to put the matter to rest. This enabled me to stop doubting the legitimacy of my athletic eligibility. This was a very good thing, especially given I would go on to win an individual and team State Championship that fall cross-country season!
Nevertheless, instead of interrupting and terminating OCD's vicious cycle of Obsession ~ Compulsion ~ Relief ~ Repeat, my forced confession further fueled it.
Promptings from "God"
Growing up, I was taught that God can viscerally communicate with my mind, heart, and spirit via the intuition and promptings of the Holy Ghost (or Holy Spirit). To this day, I remain devout in this belief, which has served as a huge blessing in my life—and an omnipresent aid and support in the creation of this Life Leadership textbook.
As a teenager, however, OCD hijacked this spiritual belief. This led to my receiving an unusual quantity of pseudo messages seemingly from the Holy Spirit, but which were, in reality, just obtrusive, obsessive thoughts. These faux promptings ranged from the supposedly spiritual to the religiously (and ridiculously) random—and everything in between.
One of the more concrete illustrations of this new strain of OCD occurred during my senior year of high school. It involved my enrollment in an Advanced Placement (A.P.) European history course.
Academically and intellectually speaking, enrolling in this particular course was a perfectly sound and wise decision. History was my best subject, and I was already a skilled writer for my age. This course provided an outstanding opportunity to appropriately challenge my growing intellect in a subject I was naturally talented in and enjoyed.
After being in the class for a few days, however, I began to feel strong "impressions" or "promptings" that I should not be in the class—for absolutely no apparent or rational reason. These visceral intuitions were so strong that I finally gave in to them and withdrew from the course—a decision I regret to this day.
Once I had dropped the class, I had to fill the hole in my schedule with a new course. I chose regular 11th grade American history. It was a completely illogical move—and ridiculously redundant to boot! I had already passed A.P. American history—and the Advanced Placement exam—as a sophomore; and that was to say nothing of the quasi-expert status I had already achieved as an amateur historian by that point in my life.
Now I was a senior in high school enrolled in an average, junior American history course because I was "convinced" God didn't want me in A.P. European history. It just doesn't get much more inane, insane, and neurotic than that! I am embarrassed to admit that I actually did this. Nevertheless, it is an unusually salient example of the ways in which OCD would undermine and sabotage not only my happiness and peace, but my academic progress and success as well.
Looking back on this mystifying move, I can only shake my head in disgust and regret at how badly affected I was by my mental disorder.
Instead of expanding my historical knowledge and stretching my intellectual capacities in the A.P. European history course, I suffered day-after-day through the tedious lectures of what may have been the most boring and monotonic teacher I ever had—in any subject—relearning basic U.S. history, a subject I already knew frontwards and back compared to most students my age.
I love American history; but, that class was almost as painful as my OCD was. That's how bad the teacher—and how basic and reiterative the curriculum—was. As a result, I ended up sleeping much of the time. When I wasn't sleeping, I had to be wary of several jejune juniors who sat behind me and got their jollies from crass and crude conversations carried on quietly and clandestinely to avoid the censure of the teacher. Unlike the teacher, I could usually make out what they were saying and their daily dose of foul language and rude repartee induced enormous anxiety and deep resentment within me.
After several weeks of enduring this negative atmosphere in class, I eventually went to the teacher to make a complaint. He said he would watch for it in the future; but, most of the time he couldn't (or wouldn't) hear what was going on and thus did nothing. He did call the offenders out on at least one occasion, but it was a feeble attempt that the stinkers did not take very seriously.
The teacher simply lacked the self-confidence and gravitas to command much respect from his students.
Thus, my tormenters—and my torment—continued.
One day, it reached a breaking point for me. I could take it no longer, and was determined to take a "stand." I swiveled around in my seat and directed a pointed comment in their direction about how I viewed their pungent and puerile prattle. My preaching predictably only made things worse, causing me to be singled out for persecution from that point onward.
After enduring additional weeks of ongoing foulness and increased verbal bullying, I reached another, more explosive threshold point. The burning fuse had reached the powder keg...
And I exploded!
Compulsively compelled to act out my self-righteous indignation, I rose from my desk to dramatically summit my soapbox. I then proceeded to angrily upbraid my offenders in conjunction with preaching a brief sermon on the pathetic nature of their inane and inappropriate discourse and how they all needed to grow up. My dutiful diatribe was purposely proclaimed in a tone furious and loud to ensure the entire class—including the teacher—would be sure to hear.
To this day, I have rarely (if ever) seen a classroom full of students more dumbfounded, flabbergasted, or surprised—nor have I witnessed a teacher so caught off guard and speechless—as those students and teacher were that winter day at Joel E. Ferris High School in Spokane, Washington, in December 1997.
Before concluding this extemporaneous speech, I appealed directly to the rest of my classmates, questioning their own acceptance of the language and immaturity of my tormentors. Inside, I was hoping other students might rally behind me, or at very least show some vestige of acquiescence or assent to my message and cause.
Alas, the only thing that prevailed that day was utter shock and profound silence.
I was all alone in my efforts and passion.
By the time I had finished my speech, you could have heard a pin drop in that classroom. I had certainly gotten everyone's attention!
Humiliated and bereft of any followers, but somewhat relieved after blowing off all that pent-up emotional and mental steam, I picked up my backpack and strode to the far side of the classroom—as far away from my bullies as possible. Without any permission from the teacher, I planted myself in a new seat on the opposite side of the room, which is where I sat for the remainder of the semester.
The students said nothing to me.
And the teacher made no attempt to stop me.
I do not recall if he even spoke to me after class about my dramatic outburst. I think he was too surprised and shell-shocked to know how to respond other than just let me be.
With only one exception, no one else bothered to reach out to me after class either—for the rest of the semester. The one exception was a girl who, in another class we shared together, confessed that she agreed with me about the immaturity of my tormenters and appreciated my courage in standing up to the offenders.
It felt nice to have at least one supporter.
Later, I asked her out on a date.
She stood me up.
To this day—after more than 700 dates with 100 different girls or women over the course of my life since I turned 16—she is the only gal who ever stood me up without so much as a phone call of warning. It was perhaps the ultimate "icing" on top of one of my life's more embarrassing and humiliating "sundaes."
It was, however, good timing. I had caught a bug and was running a high fever the evening of our scheduled date. When she did not come to the door, I was relieved to be able to go home to bed and quickly chalked getting stood up to just one of those things that sometimes happen in life.
While this classroom incident was a lot more colorful and dramatic than most of my OCD-related experiences, it remains emblematic of my all-too-often naive and misguided approaches to personal problem solving—and especially in my social life. Instead of approaching situations thoughtfully and with care, compassion, logic, and poise, I preferred to soldier through situations with a frenzied fatalism fraught with folly.
Like Napoleon's Grand Armée at Waterloo, Burnside's boys at Fredricksburg, Pickett's men at Gettysburg, or the Royal Newfoundland Regiment at Beaumont Hamel on the opening morning of the Somme Offensive, I'd leave my post or exit my trench, put my head down, and charge blindly into a cannonading hail of metaphorical grapeshot, machine gun, and sniper fire with a blind and fierce courage that would have been noble, if only it hadn't been so misguided. In the process, I would demonstrate an utter disregard for the disastrous consequences—socially or otherwise—that would follow from my begrudging and misguided verbal assaults and/or passive-aggressive grudges.
Such approaches predictably ended in failure, and I was continually "shot down" whilst attempting to "take the high ground."
This "Promptings from God" flavor or strain of OCD produced some of the severest—and most distressing and embarrassing—symptoms I would ever experience. I shudder to think about some of the things I once thought, said, or did while battling these kinds of obsessions and compulsions. Moreover, it proved to be one of the more difficult and time-consuming strains to learn how to effectively manage. It was many years (and even decades) before I had a really solid handle on it.
Consternated Underneath
Consternated underneath
A soul that's ever burdened,
With all I am,
And all I'm not,
And all I want to be!
O please, dear God, do not forsake
My ever-anxious mind.
Be always near me,
Is my prayer—
And peace
Help me
To find.
—JRJ
Missionary Angst
My compulsive honesty and propensities toward strict adherence to the Letter of the Law made my missionary service especially difficult. Handing an obsessive-compulsive "Rule Follower" a sizeable handbook full of new and fresh additional rules is kind of a recipe for disaster. In hindsight, I feel sorry for those who had to serve as my missionary companions because, quite frankly, I could be a real jerk sometimes.
While I take some consolation in the knowledge that I was well-intentioned and struggling with obsessive-compulsive neurosis, the fact remains that I could still be a jerk.
In my present estimation, those who served closest to me were far more saintly for tolerating my obsessive-compulsive quirks and moments of moodiness than they were sinners for any minor deviations from the letter of every mission rule. Moreover, in most cases, my companions were quite obedient and hard-working—and then had to deal with me on top of any and/or every other stressor with which they may have already been struggling.
Poor fellas!
About halfway through my 2-year missionary service, it became clear to my Mission President that I needed professional counseling beyond what he was able to offer me from a practical and ecclesiastical standpoint. Thus, I was blessed to be able to work with a professional mental health counselor on my mission who tried to help me avoid valuing rules above people by teaching me to "always err on the side of love for my companion." It was one of the most insightful and valuable pieces of advice and counsel I ever received. To this day, I still lean on this aphorism of his in making Letter of the Law versus Spirit of the Law distinctions and decisions in my life, career, and relationships. Unfortunately, the full impact of this wisdom did not sink in until well after I returned home from my mission, as the following incident—on the final day of my two-year service—evinces.
As preface to this sad story, I should note that as missionaries, most secular music was off-limits. But on one final occasion, while we were on our way to the airport, our driver (also a full-time missionary who was not returning home) popped a cassette into the van's tape recorder. The tape's tracks were designed to rouse our excitement, enthusiasm, and patriotism as we returned home to our beloved Country—the USA.
For example, Neil Diamond's legendary song—Coming to America—was the opening track.
Any sane and sensitive person would have recognized the apropos nature of this special moment—and its legitimacy as an "exception to the rule"—at the conclusion of our long, dedicated, and difficult missionary service and sacrifice. Sadly, I wasn't entirely sane or sensitive at that point in time. Like Javert from Victor Hugo's Les Miśerables, I was neurotically unable to see past the "fact" that these missionaries were staining their—and my—last day in the mission field by willfully breaking the rules through playing unauthorized mission music.
What happened next was one of the most myopic and regrettable moments of my entire life.
Burning with frustration and anger, I opted to "courageously" speak out about how unfortunate it was that we would all choose to "blow it" by breaking the rules on the very last day of our missions.
Most missionaries in the van responded to my condescending and petty rebuke with awkward silence. One missionary, however, had had enough, and proceeded to let me have it. Angrily confronting me he bellowed out so that all could hear:
"Shut up Elder Jensen! Just shut up! You aren't going to ruin this moment for all of us."
But sadly, I had ruined it.
The moment had been stolen, and I was the thief.
At that point, no one could retrieve what might have been. The music continued to play, but an awkward and gloomy silence replaced the camaraderie and mirth; and that awkward and dour atmosphere persisted for the rest of our trip to the airport.
By rigidly raining on everyone's parade, I ruined what should have been a special and memorable moment for all of us. After two years of diligent, faithful, and unpaid selfless service, everyone in that van rightly deserved a little lighthearted celebration and patriotic parading. But they would not get to do either because of me and my insensitive, selfish, and shortsighted obsessive-compulsive neurosis.
In intervening years, I have had the chance to personally apologize to at least two of the missionaries who were in the mission van with me that chilly day of March 7, 2001 in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. If any others who were also with us ever happen to come across these words, I want to say to YOU: I am so SORRY. I ask forgiveness for stealing that special moment away from you, and want you to know that I have changed and would never do such an unkind thing again.
Weight of the World on my Shoulders
The toxic amalgamation and negative synergy of these distortions not only created unrealistic expectations for myself, but they also induced an immense sense of unnecessary responsibility for other people and things. The result of this was not only an inordinate amount of pressure, stress, and toil on my part, but I sometimes found myself becoming inappropriately entangled in other people's business as well—a consequence of assuming personal or moral responsibility where, in reality, none existed.
Over time, this horrifying, neurotic, and completely unnecessary pressure transformed me into a mentally ill Atlas archetype, continually overburdened by my own shortcomings, the world's endless imperfections, and the morally questionable speech and actions of virtually everyone I knew or came across.
It also conjured up many situations and circumstances that did not even exist—except in my own troubled mind. In an effort to troubleshoot these largely imagined scenarios, I often felt a deep sense of panicked urgency to act when no action was necessary or required.
Such actions almost always did more harm than good, and I can only imagine how surprised and perplexed people must have been as they observed the odd, insensitive, and in some cases inappropriate things I said and/or did in an effort to compulsively relieve whatever obsessive concern or fear was running through my head at the moment.
To this day, I shudder with chagrined embarrassment when I recall some of the cringey things I either said or did because of this neurotic moral responsibility I carried around with me everywhere I went. Such an anxious and discontented spirit made it difficult to develop normal, functioning, and mutually satisfying friendships, much less romantic relationships (more on this in the next chapter).
Amazingly, I was held hostage to these self-imposed and unrealistically high standards for an ungodly number of years. It wasn't until I started seriously attending regular psychotherapy (CBT) sessions after my mission that I finally started to gradually let go of this terrible weight and burden.
Each year that passes, I get a little bit better at clearly recognizing what I am and am not responsible for in my life, career, and relationships. It has taken a long time and a lot of effort to shrink my perceived moral responsibility down to its actual size, but it has been well worth the effort. With help from that Higher Power and my amazing personal and professional network of support, I have finally been able to achieve a significant measure of existential relaxation, happiness, normalcy, and peace of mind.
Social Diffidence and Unease
In elementary school—before the onset of my OCD—I was charismatic, cheerful, extroverted, and popular. I had many friends, was well liked by my teachers, and was a good-natured and entertaining class clown to boot. As a naturally gifted athlete, I was routinely one of the first ones chosen on peer-selected teams on the football field or basketball court.
As a first grader, I persuaded my teacher to hold an election to appoint a class president; and YOU can probably guess who won the election. I took great pride in this practically meaningless position and largely task-less title.
It felt GOOD to be popular and well liked among my peers.
In third, fourth, and fifth grade, this social success continued unabated as my classmates elected me to represent them on the student council. In fifth grade, I was cast as the leading male role in the school play. Suffice it to say, I was very well adjusted, intelligent for my age, and adept—socially speaking and otherwise.
In fifth grade, I was even popular with the ladies!
In fact, three different girls were concurrently vying for my affection so enthusiastically that each one asked me if I would "go out with her" (be her boyfriend) at various points during the school year. I turned all three of them down on principle because my Church taught me not to "date" until I was 16.
Had I any idea of the long and treacherous trek through the desert of romance that awaited me after fifth grade and before I met my future wife, I might have reconsidered their proposals (wink).
This youthful popularity and social success came to a dramatic and screeching halt as OCD made its tortuous entrance into my life in seventh (7th) grade. From that point onward throughout the remainder of my teenage and young adult years, I was never as socially "normal" as I had been before OCD entered my life's stage.
It was a long, difficult, and painful journey.
It took me 14 years to recover from the social repercussions OCD levied on my life as a young teenager. My high school and college years were particularly affected, and especially as it related to romance—a drama-filled debacle I will recount in detail in the next chapter.
The Ultimate Joy Killer
Whatever style or strain it may come in, OCD is an anxiety-producing JOY KILLER.
Demon-like, it is craftily capable of figuring out whatever obtrusive thoughts will heap the most misery onto whoever it afflicts. It doesn't matter whether one's symptoms are typical or atypical; as long as it squelches joy and stamps out peace, OCD has done its job.
According to Alan Weg, an OCD expert, OCD is "like ice cream" in the sense that it "comes in different flavors." (15) And there is no limit to the "flavors" and strains that OCD can take in the mind and heart of someone.
In the words of OCD expert, Fred Penzel, Ph.D.
"Many people in the general public and the media have a very stereotypical image of what OCD is all about. Individuals with OCD are seen as people who either wash their hands too frequently, or who are super organized and perfectionists. Thus, it can be difficult to recognize the types of OCD that don't resemble these common stereotypes. The reality is, there are many forms that OCD can take. The types and topics of your obsessions and compulsions are limited only by your brain's ability to imagine. OCD is insidious, as it seems to have a way of finding out what will bother someone the most." (16)
Depression Joins the Mix
One of the things that makes OCD so awful is that depression often accompanies it. In my case, depression developed alongside my OCD right from the beginning. For every 10 days I've spent under the yoke of OCD, three or four of them have been further tainted by depression.
Over time, this comorbid depression has morphed into its own unique manifestation of obsessive thinking.
The joy-killing process plays out like this: I feel authentic and spontaneous joy or peace for a few short seconds, but it is immediately sabotaged by a concatenation of unpleasant, or downright terrible thoughts and feelings marked by nihilism, pain, and despair—which completely envelope, smother, and overcome the initial peace or joy I felt.
This depressive obsession has been one of the most nefarious of OCD's insidious influences, as it seeks—and to an extent succeeds—in stamping out joy and peace whenever and wherever it attempts to blossom in my mind and heart. This joy-dampening and peace-damning metaphysical storm cloud has wielded a continual—not to be confused with a continuous—presence in my life for over three decades now. To this day it still afflicts me—especially in the early morning hours after I first arise from a night's sleep.
This is one of many reasons why I have never been a "Morning Person."
It does seem as though the ultimate goal of OCD is the death of my joy and the destruction of my peace, making it a veritable metaphysical torture chamber of my mind, heart, and spirit.
Philosophical and Existential OCD
Most of the flavors of OCD I suffered in junior high and high school have either diminished significantly or been largely extinguished.
Thank Goodness!
And good riddance.
This does not mean that OCD does not afflict me as an adult. It does. However, as an adult, my OCD tends to take the form of a more generalized anxiety about life, including the stress that accompanies unanswerable queries surrounding life's ultimate questions.
This may come as a surprise in light of my strong religious faith and devout spirituality.
Nevertheless, the reality is that faith, religion, and spirituality do not come anywhere near to answering all questions in this world. If it did, there would be no need for faith.
All human beings face trials and challenges of one sort or another. OCD is one of the core crosses I have been called upon to bear, and I highly doubt I will ever be completely free of OCD in this life and world.
The good news is that there is always hope for growth, progress, and improvement. The bad news is that it never entirely goes away. If I am managing the disorder so that I have 80-90 percent control over my thoughts, I am doing very well. Indeed, such is the threshold I continually aim for in my own self-care and mental troubleshooting efforts.
Thus, the goal is never PERFECTION.
The goal is always PROGRESS.
Panic Attacks
As an adult, I have often experienced OCD-influenced panic attacks where I feel existentially trapped, imprisoned, and psychologically strained to a near breaking point, almost as if I was going to explode (or implode).
These panic attacks are accompanied by a frenzied sense of nihilistic dread that sweeps over me like a cold, wet, soggy, and ponderously heavy metaphysical blanket. The best way to escape such moments is to completely immerse myself in an activity that places a substantial cognitive load on my brain, thus distracting me from the obsession.
There are several activities that provide this complete mental immersion and distraction; they include, but are not limited to: speaking, teaching, writing, engaging conversation, eating a delicious meal, watching an interesting movie or documentary, downhill mountain biking, doing detailed yard work and/or other physically vigorous manual labor, playing video games or fantasy baseball, and making love with my wife.
I am deeply grateful to God that such activities exist as a healthy, productive, and appropriate reprieve from the existential demons that OCD delights to place as stumbling blocks along my pathway.
These panic attacks are sources of momentary grief and despair, and lead to a deep dislike and fear of life. They also instill a desire for death, nonexistence, or at least a divine reprieve from the continual suffering of life—and more particularly, life with OCD.
Such moments have provided me with an appreciation of, and empathy for, the madness that drives some to suicidal ideation and execution. I am grateful to have never been suicidal myself. But I have dealt with enough obsessive thoughts on the subject—and the depression that accompanies those obsessions—to appreciate what drives others to attempt and/or succeed in such a dark and tragic undertaking.
The sonnet below, composed in the middle of the 2000's decade gives vent to—and provides insight into—some of the tortured feelings that accompany these obsessive thoughts.
SONNET
The Passage of Time
Thanks be to God for the passage of time,
That life marches on to a welcomed grave,
Where at last we may hasten the sublime
Status of living in a new enclave
Outside of TIME—that fleeting enemy—
Which serveth death to each blessed moment
We fain would prolong throughout eternity,
Yet elongates obsessive moments sent,
Perpetuating all with interest
Into the rusted trappings of the mind,
Wherein we may perpetually invest
In joy that ne'er dies, or pain that e'er grinds
To piece and powder all my use of time.
I pray that I may yet summit the climb.
—JRJ
In one of his poetic masterpieces, William Wordsworth lamented the woeful state of the world when he exclaimed in his immortal sonnet:
SONNET
The World is Too Much With Us
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
Little we see in nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
The sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are upgathered now like sleeping flowers—
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn,
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn,
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea,
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. (17)
My obsessive ruminations about the otherworldly and the endlessness of existence have caused me to wish I could be more present in the "here and now," as many around me seem to do so well. Drowning in existential anxiety profoundly inhibits my ability to be an emotional participant in my own life, causing me to miss out on the magical momentary minutia of happiness.
Such experiences inspired me to pen a response to Wordworth's original sonnet, wherein I approach the same subject, but in reverse, as follows:
SONNET
The World is Not Enough With Me
The world is not enough with me—NOW,
Too much time spent thinking and forecasting,
Trying too hard to see it all—blasting
The feelings of peace—I fail to allow
Real emotions, the wonder—the WOW!
The satisfied sense of sweat on my brow;
That pure joy—so spontaneous in youth—
The unsullied acquisition of truth:
It moves me not! Great God, I'd rather be
A zealot, willing to fight and to die
For any just cause that might make me free,
Unshackle my brain from perplexing whys,
What e'er it may take, or how I must cloy
To gain the God-granted privilege of joy.
—JRJ
PART 3:
Seeking Help, Gaining Relief, and Developing Skills
M. Scott Peck insightfully suggested that rather than classifying the human race into an either mentally healthy or mentally ill dichotomy, it is more accurate to view mankind as existing along a spectrum of mental health and hygiene.
"[The] tendency to avoid problems and the emotional suffering inherent in them is the primary basis of all human mental illness. Since most of us have this tendency to a greater or lesser degree, most of us are ... lacking complete mental health. Some of us will go to quite extraordinary lengths to avoid our problems and the suffering they cause, proceeding far afield from all that is clearly good and sensible in order to try to find an easy way out, building the most elaborate fantasies in which to live, sometimes to the total exclusion of reality. In the succinctly elegant words of Carl Jung, 'Neurosis is always a substitute for legitimate suffering.'" (18)
According to Peck, "all psychological disorders are basically disorders of consciousness." (19)
This idea breaks with Freudian concepts that mental illness is rooted in the unconscious. This paradigm shift about where neurosis originates is significant in that it empowers patients with more AGENCY (choice and control) if they are willing to take complete personal responsibility for their past mistakes, present condition, and future treatments.
After all, no therapist (no matter how skilled) and no pill (no matter how powerful or effective) can nix the neurosis of someone who lacks the desire and will to change. In the long-run, a person's willingness to be honest with oneself, remain completely committed to reality, work very hard, and open oneself up to Serendipity are the four (4) most significant sources of success.
According to Peck, achieving higher levels of mental health and hygiene require a heightened "awareness of [one's] own feelings and imperfections," (20) "self-control," (21), "great internal strength," (22) a willingness to "tolerate pain" (23), and a "willingness to think in broader ways or to handle different situations creatively." (24)
Peck equates "a high degree of consciousness" and "self-control" with "psychological competence" (25)—which is a key goal of therapy. Hence, victims of neurosis are, in the final analysis, only victims if they choose to be. (26)
My own struggles with mental illness corroborate Peck's paradigm of personal responsibility in effectively treating neurosis. While there are many different medicines, people, and techniques that can help palliate neurotic symptoms, it is ultimately the choice of each individual the extent to which they will grow, progress, heal, and change.
My motivation to get help came in part from observing my dad's hellish experiences with—and mixed results in combatting—bipolar disorder. I was also deeply motivated because of my desire to accomplish certain life goals that were exceedingly important to me—and especially as they related to marriage, children, schooling, my career, and service in/to my church.
Over time, it became clear to me that if I failed to take full responsibility for my OCD, anxiety, and depression, I would relinquish control of my life to external forces and fail to obtain the family, career, life, and future I so desperately desired.
In high school, back when I was still just learning about OCD, I completed a research paper on the subject. One article I came across in my research, written by the Australian homeopathic therapist, Mark Simblist, shared a viewpoint that deeply resonated with me both then and now.
Said Simblist:
"Our aim should be to raise a victim's awareness to the level where they know they have a choice—a choice to think what they want to think and a choice not to be a victim of intrusive thoughts or compulsions any more. This naturally involves healing very negative thought patterns built up over years and releasing bottled up emotions. ... In general I think patients will need to take responsibility for their condition and work quite intensely with a number of different healing methods, particular some form of therapy, and be prepared to make changes to their lifestyle. ... Most of all, patients must realise that compulsive behaviour began with a choice at some level, and conscious choice is the key to breaking it." (27)
To me, Simblist's words were practical, realistic, and hugely inspiring. They championed my own capacity to successfully confront my illness through professional assistance, self-help, and spiritual aides and strategies. I felt empowered and emboldened by the idea that conscious choices—my own AGENCY—could play a vital role in conquering—or at very least, better managing—my mental illness and emotional struggles.
From ages 13-17, during the zenith of my OCD's direst symptoms, I lacked the education and self-awareness to know what was wrong with me. I just knew something wasn't right with my mind.
During these agonizing adolescent years, I hid my obsessions and compulsions from others as best I could because I did not, of course, want to be known as or labeled by others as "different" or "weird,"—even though I viewed myself that way.
While my parents were always loving and supportive of me, they were acutely ignorant of what was actually wrong with me and how they could best help.
Despite this lack of insight into abnormal psychology, my dad's concurrent struggle with bipolar disorder turned out to be instrumental in helping me discover my OCD. As I observed the deeply distressing—even suicidal—depression he faced, I had one of the most enlightening and hopeful epiphanies of my life.
"Maybe," I thought to myself, "there is something wrong with my mind just like Dad has something wrong with his mind—but with a different name."
With this engaging and hopeful idea in mind, I began to search out information on the subject of abnormal psychology. I started out by reviewing literature on the subject from the small library in my rural high school in Monticello, Utah.
I initially came across a book about agoraphobia. While some of its symptoms looked and sounded familiar, it didn't exactly mirror my experiences.
My next step was to browse the Internet, which, it being the mid-1990s, had just recently come to our rural community's high school. Before long, I came across some information online about OCD. The more I read, the more certain I became that I had OCD.
It was an invigorating search and a glorious discovery because it helped dispel my growing belief that I was "just weird" and might always be so. Now that I had a name to my nemesis, I could seek out help and healing.
Thus began an extended, albeit sometimes intermittent, journey of medicinal treatment that continues to this day (2027).
I felt much better after going on medication the first time. Part of my improvement may have been the result of a placebo-effect. Part of it may have been improving circumstances. But part of it was likely also a result of the biochemical reactions in my body and brain.
Consequently, my psychiatrists, doctors, and other prescribers and I have tried a variety of different medications and dosages over the years and decades in an ongoing effort to find that elusive "sweet spot" where I achieve maximum benefits with minimal side effects from whatever medication I am taking at any given point in time.
I don't remember exactly when I stopped taking Luvox, but I don't recall taking any medication for OCD after I moved to Spokane, Washington in August 1997—5-6 months after I first began taking the medication in Monticello (as prescribed by my psychiatrist in Salt Lake City). In hindsight, this likely played a role in the overall difficulty of my senior year in Washington, which proved to be the second most difficult and unpleasant school year of my life. Only 7th grade—the first full year following the full onset of my OCD—was worse.
The primary purpose of my meeting with the counselor in Colorado was to obtain a psychological clearance to serve my two-year full-time Church mission.
The sessions were helpful and productive, but I was mostly relieved when the counselor cleared me to serve my mission. At that point in time, I was much more concerned about remaining on track with my peers—and living up to cultural mores and familial and social expectations of me—than I was about authentically tackling my OCD. Thus, my four therapy sessions to date were little more than band-aids, which, in time, I would have to rip off and revisit in order to authentically address my underlying psychological wounds.
I entered my Church's Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Provo, Utah on February 17, 1999, where I received preliminary training to serve as a full-time representative of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. On March 10th, I flew to Edmonton, Alberta, Canada—where my assigned mission was headquartered.
As a full-time missionary, I met with my Mission President every 4-6 weeks for a private ecclesiastical interview. Over time, it became evident to him that I needed more than just practical insights and spiritual counsel, so he referred me to the social services division of the Church, where I attended four or five highly illuminating and encouraging professional therapy sessions.
I feel very fortunate because it seems as though I have been extremely blessed over the years to be paired with the right counselor at the right time. As a person of faith, I believe these arrangements were not coincidental, but graceful and tender mercies from a loving and all-powerful God. I feel privileged to have been able to work with a wide array of wonderful professionals who have effectively assisted me along my ongoing journey to successfully managing my OCD, anxiety, and depression.
One concrete cognitive-behavioral life lesson I recall from the therapy sessions I attended on my mission involved the way I tended to treat my fellow missionary companions. One of the things I struggled with on my mission was interacting with my companions in positive and productive ways while simultaneously being fixated on and obsessed with the rule book (Letter of the Law).
To combat this negative tendency in my work relationships, my counselor invited me to: "Always err on the side of love for your companion."
In other words, the next time I was in a situation where I found myself thinking: "It's my way or the highway" with regards to the technicalities of the rule book, I should query whether it would help or hinder the relationship with my companion; and, if the latter, perhaps I should consider letting it go and not sweating the small stuff for a change.
In sharing this insight with me, the counselor was not suggesting I disregard or flout the mission rules; he was simply providing me with some perspective about reality and relationships. It was a wise lesson in sociality that would stick with me for the rest of my life—benefitting countless relationships in the future, including my eventual marriage with my wife.
In my missionary exit interview—the last interview I had with my Mission President before returning home at the end of my two years of service—he gave me both a compliment and a caveat regarding my OCD.
His compliment involved certain positive by-products of OCD he had noticed, such as my commitment, determination, focus, obedience, and work ethic. Said President Andrus: "You know, Elder Jensen, OCD has not been all bad for you."
His caveat involved the influence OCD would have on my future marriage and family. I took this caveat very seriously. It was, in fact, a driving motivator for me to proactively seek out further help after I returned home.
My flights from Edmonton to Denver and then on to Salt Lake City were scheduled for March 7, 2001.
I was coming home after completing the single most difficult task I had (or would) ever undertake.
Several months after returning from my mission, I experienced a profoundly painful and disappointing romantic letdown and rejection. My mental health fallout from this event was so severe that it triggered my seeking out professional help. This time, however, I did so entirely on my own, without the assistance, nudging, or suggestion of anyone else. It was also the first time in my life that I would enter formal therapy on a regular basis for an extended period of time.
It was one of the best and wisest decisions of my life.
As a poor college student, one of my initial concerns was how I would pay for professional counseling on my own. Fortunately, I discovered the Comprehensive Clinic at Brigham Young University (BYU) in Provo, Utah—where I was living at the time.
The Comprehensive Clinic was a counseling center where graduate students provided psychotherapy services at a vastly reduced rate. It didn't bother me that the counselors were not yet fully licensed professionals. I had faith in the education and training they had received up to that point, and felt as though they would, in some ways, be even more energetic and sincere than some older and more experienced (aka: cynical and jaded) professionals.
Most importantly, at only $15 per session, the price was right!
The clinic would even waive the $15 if I could not afford it; but, I was always able to afford that much, and it felt good to be making a tangible monetary investment in my mental and emotional health and hygiene.
A receipt from one of my counseling sessions.
BYU Comprehensive Clinic. Provo, Utah
May 23, 2002
Taking full advantage of this highly affordable opportunity in the fall of 2001, I pursued regular, ongoing therapy for the first time in my life—nearly a decade after the initial onset of my OCD symptoms in 1992.
I started out meeting with my counselor at least once a week, every week. After a few months, I tapered off to once every other week, etc., until I discontinued therapy about 10 months later at the confluence of my having made desired progress and my counselor's completion of her term at the Comprehensive Clinic.
The following journal entries shed light on some of my experiences with my counselor and other health care specialists at the Comprehensive Clinic.
Thursday, October 11, 2001I had a psychological evaluation done today. Met w/ a fellow named M—— who got a background idea of my struggle with obsessive-compulsive disorder and depression. I took a personality test as part of it, which was 240 questions long.I then met w/ my therapist J—— for the second time. Was productive insofar as she helped me identify one of the symptoms of which I had not thought of much before. That is that I have a mind that has thoughts which race and race. She pointed out that even my way of presenting info. to her comes out quickly, and jumps from here to there. It was very eye-opening.Thursday, October 18, 2001Today I spent four hours at the Comprehensive Clinic. Took a 500+ question [psychometric] evaluation/test, by far the longest I have taken. It included a true/false and personality test. It was easy to take and went quickly, but the sheer quantity of questions was a bit intimidating. Then I took another 90-question test, then waited for my session of therapy w/ J—— which went very well. I learned a lot.Thursday, October 25, 2001Had a therapy session w/ J——. It went well. She taught me a relaxing exercise that should be beneficial. I also did some more testing, including an ink-blot test where M—— would show me some abstract ink blotches, symmetrical in form, and ask me what I saw in them. My mind obsessively saw sexual images before it saw anything else because that is the most embarrassing thing to see—and then have to say [out loud]. He recorded everything I said. Afterward I took another true-false personality test of 170 questions or so.Tuesday, October 30, 2001Had an excellent therapy session with J——. I am feeling more comfortable w/ her as our sessions go on. Today's session was very productive, and I came away with some concrete items to work on.Sunday, November 11, 2001I think I was very mature tonight. Spent some time w/ a girl named L—— tonight. She is a cute girl. I was proud of myself to be able to talk w/ her and strive to get closer to someone as my psycho-therapist [sic] J—— has asked me to strive to do—to just get closer to people. In fact she even assigned me a few weeks ago to try to have an emotionally based conversation w/ a female.Tuesday, November 27, 2001I went to a therapy session today w/ my therapist J——. She is great. Had a great session and made some progress. Her emphasis of solution is based on really pounding the exposure-response treatment, in ways I haven't done much of yet.Thursday, December 6, 2001Today I had a review w/ M—— at the clinic of how my psychological assessment went—that was all those tests I took about six weeks ago. Today I had the chance to hear at point blank range, and in plain words of biting sharpness 45 pointed weaknesses or areas of neurosis and cognitive distortions that became evident by the results of the tests.At the time, I had a hard time holding in the laughter, because it just seemed funny to me. Tonight it doesn't seem funny to me anymore. What I see is a re-affirmation of the reality and severity of my neurosis, and an uphill battle yet to fight.The results of my combined psychometric testing, as described in the entries below, revealed the following data points about my psychological state of being, personality propensities, and behavioral tendencies.
- Extreme insecurity
- Heightened anger
- Extreme anxiety
- Health Problems
- Apprehensive
- Plagued by self-doubt
- Demanding of self
- Demanding of others
- Skeptical and cynical
- Overemphasize rationality
- Self-critical
- Distortion of problems
- Lack poise in social situations
- Overreact to stress
- Depressed
- Blunt with others
- Order centered
- Need to achieve
- Unwanted disturbing thoughts
- Tendency to brood / ruminate
- Strange thoughts
- Feeling unreal
- Difficulty processing feelings
- Hard on self
- Lack of energy to cope
- Hard on self
- See myself as weak
- Ambivalence / vacillation
- Untrusting of others
- Hyper alert about environment
- Trouble warming up to others, yet actively seek social life
- Internally focused
- Arrogant
- Persistent fear response
- Feel some isolation with male counterparts because of certain inherent feminine interests
- Might possibly like to participate in child rearing and housekeeping
- Appreciate feeling wrought out in artful endeavors and have aesthetic inclinations
- Difficulty incorporating values in my own schema
- Perceive others' actions as disingenuous
- Trouble tolerating discomfort—inability to delay gratification for extended period of time
- Lack of family understanding of what I am going through
- Problems with losing control of thoughts (losing mind)
- Daily activities are boring, unrewarding
- Marked discomfort during interpersonal interactions
After receiving this cornucopia of cognitive and emotive feedback, I continued working with my therapist on a regular basis for the next eight (8) months. The following two journal entries demonstrate the tremendous growth I achieved over the this eight-month period of extensive psychotherapy—and that I still had a long way to go in my overall mental health, hygiene, and personal maturation.
Thursday, May 23, 2002I had an appointment with J—— today. The coolest thing was that I was able to tell her there really wasn't a lot to talk about, because I am doing so well as far as working situations through on my own. It was a lovely visit. She asked me about how I was doing with the (woman's name) situation and I said okay—and explained that having met (different woman's name) was a big help. I took the opportunity to express a heartfelt thanks to her for all she has done. I expressed that she has changed my life, and she in truth has had a critical influence on my life. I am so grateful that I took the initiative to begin this intensive period of therapy, and the results have been astoundingly successful.Wednesday, August 14, 2002I had my last visit with J—— today. She is not going to be doing therapy at the comprehensive clinic anymore. It was a good visit, and I focused mostly on giving her a travel log of my romantic woes I have experienced since I last met with her. It wasn't the wisest way to go about it, and it led me to feel a bit poorly most of the day, as it induced me to obsess about it all.
While getting counseling at the Comprehensive Clinic, I also saw a psychiatrist to further combat my symptoms with medicinal (drug) prescriptions. I approached psychotherapy and pharmacotherapy as an adventure and an ongoing Self-Action Research (SAR) project.
I therefore entered therapy with the goal of being both interactive with my therapist and psychiatrist and proactive in tackling whatever homework assignments they gave me. I was eager to make as many personal breakthroughs as possible throughout the therapeutic process, and was therefore open to trying new behavioral approaches and medicinal regimens.
For example, while meeting with my psychiatrist, I expressed interest in trying a medication other than Luvox—the drug I had previously (and initially) taken when I was first diagnosed back in January 1997 as a junior in high school. My psychiatrist suggested I try the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) Celexa (citalopram). My journal records are more spotty regarding my psychiatric visits than my psychotherapy visits, but I do know that I began taking medication for the second time in my life in late February 2002, and was still on it eight months later, as the following entry recounts:
Tuesday, October 1, 2002Had an appointment this morning with my psychiatrist, Dr. G——. We decided to try a larger dose of medicine. Things are really looking better, but I am eager to try anything that will help even more. He suggested I stay on the medicine, at least at 20 mgs/day. For now, we are going to bump it up to 40 mgs and see what happens. I really like my doctor. He is a good man.The most important counsel he offered was that I seek for spiritual help in filling the existential vacuum that I have found myself in so much. He was very impressed at the depth of my understanding of the cognitive end of things, but noticed that I am not as effective at my emotional, feeling side of things.
Fortunately, I was able to remain on my parents' health insurance during this time, which kept the cost of medication down to the price of a nominal copay fee. I don't remember exactly when I stopped taking medication this second time around, but I know I was no longer taking it when I moved to Georgia in August 2003, having self-determined that I was doing well enough to not need it anymore.
I should not have made this decision on my own. Nevertheless, I was on a journey of holistic growth, including a gradually increasing recognition of my need to involve my psychiatrist more fully in making those decisions and coming to said conclusions.
After returning to Utah six months later—in February 2004—I experienced another neurosis-induced, melodramatic romantic rejection and crisis that sent me back into a mental and emotional tailspin accompanied by a severe relapse of OCD symptoms, prompting me to return again to therapy and medication.
For psychotherapy, I returned to the Comprehensive Clinic in Provo with a new counselor, N——, who, like J——, was also a female. (28) I concurrently returned to the same psychiatrist, Dr. G——, I had worked with before, who prescribed me Lexapro (escitalopram), which is chemically comparable to Celexa (citalopram), but advertises fewer side effects.
The following journal entries describe some of my experiences with this next round of therapy with N——, with whom I experienced more ups-and-downs than I did with J——.
Monday — Sunday, May 10-16, 2004This week was hard. I have been quite depressed. Getting out of bed has been difficult. I have mostly wanted to lay flat on my back. I did run several times and am in process of getting in shape for the Utah Games.[My restaurant serving] job is wearing on me. As soon as I can quit that job I will. [My older brother] Joe suggested perhaps a job at a motel in the evening where I could have time to just read. That appeals.Had my second counseling appointment this Wednesday. It was good. I really like N——, my [new] counselor. I am extremely disillusioned right now. Don't know when I will really come out of it.Monday — Thursday, May 17-20, 2004Hellish first couple of days. Hard to get out of bed. Very frustrated. Very miserable. Felt like dying—or had desires along the lines of wanting to cease to exist.Had a good therapy session on Thursday night. I like N——. She is a good therapist, but I think that my situation is stumping her to some degree. It is frustrating and I don't know how much good is coming of it.Sunday, May 23, 2004Nice day. Had a few minutes to spend with K—— [a woman I like], which was nice. The last several days—ever since I had the counseling session with N——, things have really looked up. As frustrating as the counseling session itself was (in the sense that I didn't feel like we were getting anywhere) it has coincided with a timing that has me going in the right direction mentally and psychologically in a big way.I feel healthier and less uptight and filled with a heart that is open and forgiving and mature and seeing things again as they really are, to an extent that I think the sun is truly coming out again in my life. It is so fascinating to me how nothing really changes, but when I change internally, my world changes with it, and motivation and love and compassion, and all kinds of wonderful things begin to return.
Fast forward four-and-a-half months...
Sunday, October 3, 2004Experienced a lot of anxiety today over S—— [a woman I like]. This is one of the worst days for that. It will only get better from here—I hope.Monday, October 4, 2004Was hard to do, but I knew it was the only road I could take—that I wanted to take—to pick myself up once again and keep moving forward. To keep trying—that is the highest of actions.I resolve to humble myself regarding where I am at with relationships and the obsessive element in that part of my life. I am resolved and committed to going forward and resting not until God enables me, through His grace and the fruit of my own efforts, to conquer this maddening weakness and struggle—just like I have conquered so many challenges in the past.As I said to N—— my therapist tonight ... "this weakness will bow to me."Monday, October 4, 2004Another tough day physically and emotionally. Better emotionally though.I had a therapy session with N—— this morning. I didn't feel like I got much out of it. I am thinking about either terminating therapy soon, or else getting a different counselor. Bless N——'s heart, but I don't think that I am getting much [help, growth, or new insights] from her anymore. I am doubtful whether she is a good fit for my needs. She does love and care about me though as a client and I appreciate that. It is nice to think that someone out there really does love and care about me and thinks about me and how I am doing once in a while—not that my family isn't a great support—because they are, but, at this point in my life, that is still different for me.
The last journal entry I could find that mentions this round of therapy with N—— was April 12, 2005.
Despite her authenticity and sincerity as a therapist and goodness as a human being, I discovered over time that she was not as well suited for my situation and needs as J—— had been.
I liked N—— a lot personally. She was very kind and nice and sweet.
I just didn't achieve as many breakthroughs with OCD and depression as I had with J——.
This was a valuable experience because it taught me that some counselors were more effective, helpful, and/or a better personality fit than others. Therefore, a key component of maximizing the efficacy of psychotherapy involves finding the right counselor for you and your individual circumstances, needs, goals, and timing as a patient.
Doing so may require some trial-and-error and patience.
Around the same time as my last therapy session with N——, in the spring of 2005, my psychiatrist, Dr. G—— decided to change my medication from Lexapro (escitalapram) to Effexor (venlaxafine). While I had terminated therapy with N——, I continued taking medication until the end of the year (2005), when I moved back to Georgia from Utah (for the second time in three years).
Once I was back in Georgia, I began gradually tapering down on the Effexor, and had weaned myself off it completely by April 2006—the same month I self-published the First Edition of the SAL Textbook (I Am Sovereign: The Power of Personal Leadership).
I must reiterate here that YOU should never self-terminate your own medication. It was a mistake for me to do so. Any adjustments to drug treatments should always be done under the close supervision of a licensed psychiatrist, physician, or authorized prescribing equivalent.
Fortunately, I did not have any serious side effects or other issues when I self-terminated my meds in 2003 or 2006. Years later, however, in 2018, I tried the same gradual taper when I was taking two (2) different medications instead of just one. This ill-advised attempt led to severe side effects and a relapse of some of my more undesirable symptoms. That experience taught me firsthand to never again try to alter or terminate a medicinal dose by myself and to always communicate clearly and transparently with my psychiatrist and follow his or her instructions to the letter.
In the strongest possible terms, I ask YOU and/or anyone else reading this book to always follow this counsel and rule of pharmacotherapy (drug treatments).
In conjunction with formal counseling, my older brother Joe (eight years my senior) served as a lay therapist for the first four years following my mission. Growing up, Joe was one of my heroes. I had great respect for him and viewed him as a sterling example of good and positive mental hygiene. When comparing Joe's lay counseling "services" to the professional (and semi-professional) therapy I have received to date, Joe did a good job.
He wasn't an expert in any specific element of abnormal psychology, so he was unable to teach me clinical treatment methods such as ERP. However, as my brother, he loved me—and that was a great place to begin. He was also a patient and skilled listener who was sufficiently compassionate, empathetic, and grounded in common sense to provide me with some general and practical CBT that proved quite helpful in conjunction with the semi-professional therapy I received at the Comprehensive Clinic and the professional counseling I received from my psychiatrist.
My older sister, Jody (four years my senior) served me similarly between 2001 and 2003, and especially in relation to my romantic troubles.
These positive "lay counseling" sessions with my older siblings illustrate the therapeutic benefits of simply "talking things out" on a regular basis with a significant other, trusted family member, and/or friend and/or colleague. In many cases, such "lay therapy" may be all a person needs to maintain one's mental health and hygiene. Then, if things begin to devolve beyond the reach of your Inner Circle, you can seek out professional assistance in connection with your personal and/or professional support system.
After terminating therapy and medication in 2005 and 2006, respectively, I avoided both for the next five (5) years. I wish I could say that I did this because my OCD was cured and my depression had disappeared.
Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Beginning in 2007, I began experiencing symptoms that once again merited professional help. In 2008 and 2009, and particularly after I got married in August 2008, these symptoms worsened.
The most prominent "flavor" or strain of OCD at this period involved existential frustration and accompanying depression—sometimes to the point of yearning for nonexistence. I would arise in the morning quite depressed, and it would take many hours—sometimes well into the afternoon—before I would snap out of my daily funk. I was working as a professional seminar trainer and part-time substitute teacher at the time.
My symptoms were the worst on days when I was substitute teaching.
I believe this was the case in part because, unlike facilitating (leading) an all-day seminar—which was enormously engaging mentally and physically—substitute teaching could be quite boring, giving my mind plenty of space and time for obsessions to linger and fester. I further believe it was the case because substitute teaching felt so much farther removed from my long-term career goals than professional seminar facilitation.
There were, however, some significant bright sides and silver linings to substitute teaching. Aside from providing me with an array of diverse experiences with a wide range of students, teachers, staff, administrators, and schools, it also provided me with an opportunity to conduct some of the most important Action Research of my entire career—the results of which I share in BOOK the SEVENTH of this Life Leadership textbook.
All-in-all, while I don't think I've ever really missed substitute teaching, the four years I did it part-time in Georgia provided me with a plethora of unique educational experiences that broadened my perspective and increased my vision and wisdom as a human being and educator. Thus, I comprehend and appreciate the special and unique experiences I had as a substitute teacher at so many different schools (40+ elementary, middle, high, and alternative).
But, at the time, I admit to being a bit embarrassed by the position and title. I sometimes myopically perceived my lack of professional status to be an indicator of my professional failures, when, in reality, some of the most obscure work I've undertaken ranks among the most important steps of my long-term career success.
All of my life and career opportunities—no matter how lowly, provincial, unpaid, or temporarily unsuccessful—became, in time, beautiful bricks that would eventually contribute to the narrative construction (building) that so effectively complements and illustrates the foundational principles and practices championed in this comprehensive Life Leadership textbook.
Despite the return of some of my mental health issues, I avoided seeking professional help this time around, mostly out of fear that my new wife would worry unnecessarily about me and my condition. There were, however, moments when it was hard to hide my symptoms from her.
Whenever I felt caught up in the "existential vacuum," (29) or otherwise struggling with philosophical OCD, I would become subdued, reticent, and stare off blindly into space. Such moments understandably concerned her, and her anxiety over my condition filled my heart with fear and dread that my OCD might damage (or destroy) the most amazing and important human relationship in my life, which I had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to obtain (more on this in the next chapter).
It's worth noting here—and this point is very important for anyone who struggles with any kind of mental or emotional illness—that getting married did not end my struggles with neurosis.
I had made enormous progress before I ever met Lina. Moreover, I had been honest and candid with her about my OCD before we had even begun to exclusively date. So, she said "I do" with a knowledge of my condition. Nevertheless, the idea of her husband going to professional counseling for mental illness was still difficult for her to bear at first. Her concerned tears over the issue pained me, and led me to avoid seeking further help for several years.
I was committed and determined to manage as best I could on my own.
Things improved during the 2009-2010 school year. This was due in large part to my full-time employment as a high school teacher in Houston, Texas. My year of in-classroom teaching was the most difficult professional challenge I had ever undertaken. I didn't like (or understand) teenagers when I was a teenager myself; and I've continued to struggle with that age group ever since. Nevertheless, the job was sufficiently demanding to keep my mind productively distracted most of the time, thus limiting OCD's opportunities for mental sabotage.
I also came to enjoy some aspects of being a classroom teacher, which helped stave off depression.
Despite these bright spots in my brief 9-month career in the classroom, I was greatly relieved when the school year was over and I could join my wife in St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada, where she had relocated three months previously with her corporate job. I was grateful for my classroom teaching opportunity—and the education and experiences it afforded me—but I had no desire to pursue an extended amount of time as a traditional classroom teacher.
Moreover, I had begun a Doctoral program in education the summer before I began classroom teaching, but had not been able to make much progress during the very busy school year in Texas. I was therefore eager to begin making significant progress on my graduate degree. Our move to Eastern Canada with Lina's work provided me with the time and means to begin making such progress—turning it into an unofficial academic sabbatical.
In theory, I was the luckiest man in the world.
In actual practice, things were not quite so simple.
In pursuing my Doctoral degree, I was not attending a traditional brick-and-mortar university in Newfoundland. Rather, I was completing a distance education program out of California that lacked the benefits of in-person classmates and teachers. Without a rigid, externally-enforced schedule—like the one I had been blessed with as a full-time teacher the previous year in Texas—I found myself bearing through a Newfoundland winter that was cold, dark, snowy, and wet. My wife spent most of each day at work and I had to independently exercise the self-discipline to complete my work and stay-on-track to complete my degree in a timely manner.
Doing so was not always easy.
Existential frustrations and other challenges related to OCD and depression returned and increased during this period. This disquieting combination caused me to finally return to therapy and medication for the first time since 2005.
Due to an industry shortage of psychiatrists in the St. John's area at the time, it took about four months before I was able to get a prescription for a new regimen of medication. In the meantime, I began psychotherapy with a professional female psychologist, which, true to my past experiences at the Comprehensive Clinic, I found beneficial.
When I finally met with a psychiatrist, Dr. H——, he started me off on Anafranil (clomipramine) and then later switched me to Celexa (citalopram), which I had been taking under the supervision of Dr. G—— back in Provo.
The switch to Celexa was made after experiencing meager results—and noticeable side effects—while taking Anafranil. The most salient side effect I experienced taking Anafranil was daytime lethargy. One day I slept for six (6) hours during the middle of the day—when I needed to be working on my studies. I was just tired all day. By three or four in the afternoon, I was finally able to arise and do some work. When I had no trouble going to sleep at a normal hour that evening and sleeping through the night like I usually did, I knew I must be experiencing a side effect of the medication—not merely lethargy-induced depression or ennui.
My psychiatrist was optimistic in making the switch when I shared with him that several of my siblings had experienced positive results taking Celexa. Family members typically respond similarly to the same drug. This is due to the similarities in siblings' genetic makeup. I had also found success taking both Celexa and Lexapro (a similar drug) under the supervision of Dr. G—— in Provo.
Returning to therapy in Newfoundland proved to be a blessing in disguise for both my wife and our marriage. Experiencing the therapeutic process second-hand through my experiences helped her to better understand the nature of psychotherapy—and the hope and healing that often accompanies it. This helped her overcome her fear of the unknown and erode some of the stigma that surrounded mental illness for her personally.
She realized it was "okay" for her husband to be in therapy for mental illness. Over time, Lina became increasingly educated about OCD, depression, and mental illness in general. This growing education and understanding on her part opened up some great opportunities for us to help others facing similar struggles.
For example, during the summer of 2013, we attended our first OCD Conference together in Houston, Texas. It was hosted by OCD Texas—a state affiliate of the International OCD Foundation (IOCDF). The conference further expanded Lina's familiarity with my issues and increased her comfort level in dealing with and talking about its challenges.
Later, we ended up presenting at both the OCD Texas Conference in San Antonio in 2013 and the IOCDF's National Conference in Los Angeles in 2014. In L.A. we shared our story of dealing with OCD in our marriage and provided practical information and encouragement to others who face similar struggles in their intimate relationships. This event served as a rewarding benchmark in our mutual progress in dealing with the disorder within a framework of our marriage.
When we returned to Houston from Newfoundland in 2012, I was taking 30 milligrams of Celexa in the morning and 20 milligrams in the evening. I considered the possibility of going off the medication at this time, but ultimately decided to continue taking it until I had obtained more stability in my life and career.
At this point in time, I also came to the logical conclusion and recognition that my symptoms are never as severe when I am on medication as when I am off, so I began asking myself the question: "Why go off of it?" Operating on the auspices of this logic, and with the exception of the aforementioned attempt to ill-advisedly self-terminate my medication—which occurred in approximately 2018—I have been on medication ever since (16 years, from 2011-2027).
As the years go by, I increasingly doubt I will ever try and taper completely off medication again.
It's just not worth the risk.
As the severity of my symptoms has ebbed and flowed and otherwise cycled over the years and decades, the following question naturally arises: How and when do I know I need to re-enter psychotherapy? M. Scott Peck has an excellent answer to this question, which I have come to use as my own personal litmus test over the years.
According to Peck:
"There's no need for therapy when you're clearly growing well without it. But when [you]'re not growing, when [you]'re stuck and spinning [y]our wheels, [you]'re obviously in a condition of inefficiency. And whenever there's a lack of efficiency, there is a potentially unnecessary lack of competence." (30)
With Peck's words as my perpetual guide, I have re-entered psychotherapy a number of times since we left Newfoundland and returned to the United States, and every time I have benefitted and seen an improvement in my symptoms and level of happiness and well-being. Over the course of the past dozen years (2015-2027), I have worked with three (3) different therapists and three (3) different medicine prescribers for a total of SIX (6) mental healthcare professionals.
All SIX (6) of them were female.
There is, of course, nothing wrong with male healthcare professionals; I've worked with some excellent ones over the years, and more particularly in the earliest years of my experiences with OCD. I simply prefer females in the aggregate because of the totality of my personal experiences.
Ultimately, everyone must make one's own decision about such things—decisions that are very personal.
My most recent round of psychotherapy was conducted in 2025 by Dr. D——, a female psychiatrist who also provides psychotherapy. This was the first time I undertook both pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy from the same practitioner. More often than not, psychiatrists focus on prescribing medicine and leave psychotherapy to psychologists, professional counselors, and licensed social workers.
In my view, it is ideal to have the same person providing both psychotherapy and psychotherapy because their psychotherapeutic insights empower them to make the best possible pharmacotherapeutic (medicinal) and dosage decisions.
As such, I enthusiastically welcomed the opportunity to finally get to approach both treatments methods with Dr. D—— at the helm, and I have enjoyed a lot of success working with her.
Given the complex and nuanced nature of my past experiences with mental illness, the journey will undoubtedly go on—and likely for the remainder of my mortal life. This is a humbling realization. Nevertheless, I also have great hope for effective ongoing management and continued improvement over time.
Thus, as with all things—and people—HOPE springs eternal.
The Two-Edged Sword of OCD
At the conclusion of my 2-year full-time missionary service in 2001, my Mission President interviewed me one last time. In the course of this "Exit Interview," he made a comment I'll never forget.
Said he: "Elder Jensen, OCD has not been all bad for you."
His obvious insinuation was that my positive propensities for commitment, determination, hard work, obedience, and results were also part of my character and personality—the positive side of a two-sided coin or double-edged sword, which had the potential to cut both ways in my life, career, and relationships.
Later, during a therapy session at the Comprehensive Clinic in Provo, N—— said something similar to me when she remarked: "Jordan, you are really good at OCD!" She said this as a way of complimenting my commitment to seek out help, combat my mental illness, and continually strive to improve.
These were important reminders that OCD—and the anxiety and depression that accompanied it—were more than just a challenge in my life, career, and relationships. It was also a golden opportunity to turn a disorder into a tool of tremendous positivity, productivity, achievement, and influence. These reminders underscored the FREEDOM I possessed to choose my own destiny, regardless of the challenges and difficulties I faced along the way.
This brought to my attention that the same mental capacities that spiral into agonizing obsessions and dreadful melancholy could also be sources of tremendous agility, aptitude, accomplishment, and Existential Growth. Thus, if I could learn to both bridle and channel the enormous mental energy and creativity that spawned OCD, I could harness its immense raw power to achieve remarkably positive and productive ends.
These qualities have enabled me to accomplish many worthy goals in my life, career, and relationships. They have also empowered me to cogitate, assimilate, synthesize, organize, and articulate large amounts of information, which is how the book you now hold in your hands came to fruition over the course of 25 long years.
Thus, in the end, it's clear to me that I have always been FREE to choose whether my disorder directs me, or whether I direct the disorder. It may not always be easy; but it has always been possible.
The ever-looming question then becomes: what will I choose?
Which side of this two-edged sword will I choose to focus on, polish, sharpen, and utilize?
I thank God for the liberty and self-sovereignty to make my own decisions in the matter each day of my life. As I have diligently exercised SAL and sought to overcome my psychological, emotional, relational, and career challenges and demons, I've been blessed with the satisfaction, fulfillment, and success that come from facing and overcoming difficulties, setting and accomplishing significant goals, and earning Existential Growth.
This, in-turn, has done wonders for my confidence and self-esteem.
A Two-Edged Sword
OCD:
What has it done for me?
Is it my friend?
Or my enemy?
The answer,
You see,
Though I've
Oft been its slave—
Pathological knave!—
Made me crave for the grave,
Yet somehow,
Someway,
As I've labored
Each day,
I've now been set free,
Through the efforts of me...
And Serendipity.
Yes it does rather seem
That my nightmare extreme,
Sometimes guised as a dream,
And a good one, forsooth!
For in truth
I behold,
That for brain hygiene's gold,
I must work hard to mine,
Spending mountains of time,
Sweating tears as I pine,
Many years 'ere I find,
That the cure for my mind—
So oft plagued by the grind—
Is just like that gold,
Mixed betwixt all the old,
Common, cheap, rocky ore,
Whose plentiful store
Hides all worth
Worth pursuing,
Investing,
Accruing,
Thus, there's no need for
Stewing,
For Freedom's
Now
Mine,
And ever can be
Into eternity,
If I'll never
Forget...
That the price
Involves sweat,
And avoiding
Regret,
And that
I'm only set
When I see
I'm not yet;
And then rightly perceive,
That in time I'll receive
A most pleasant reprieve
That's as grand,
I believe,
As it badly began,
As if alchemy's claim
Held pure gold—not cheap sand.
So, I'll hold on to fight,
Through each day
And each night,
With a pure tranquil
Might,
That affirms
I'm all right;
And ne'er e'er forgetting
The puzzling piece
Of the pie
Peck calls (31)
Grace—
So truly AMAZING—
To see its pow'r
Razing
My mind's ills
Erasing,
With help from my
Pills,
Wills,
Shrink,
Gal,
And SAL
To boot,
But shoot!
What a pathetic
Hoot
I would be
On my own,
Although I'm now full grown,
And have carefully sown
Seeds of thoughtful decision,
Ignoring derision,
Crafting nobly a vision—
Important!—
Yes all;
But lest I should
Fall,
I will never
Forget
The Source
That doth heal,
With sweet salve that is
Real—
As real as YOU—
and me—
And OCD,
And the help,
And the cure—
Or the management—
Here and
Now,
As I await its ultimate
Eradication
THEN...
By HIM:
As long as
I
Do
My
Part.
—JRJ
A former United States' Presidential candidate, Adlai E. Stevenson, once remarked that: Patriotism is not a short and frenzied outburst of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime.
"Patriotism is not a short and frenzied outburst of emotion,
but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime."
—Adlai E. Stevenson
Self-Action Leadership should be approached like Stevenson's definition of patriotism.
Existential Growth is not something you can continuously sprint after; nor should your SAL efforts resemble a bright, albeit fleeting firework.
The goal of SAL is gradual growth and piecemeal progress, both of which require lots of time to authentically animate and effectuate.
Like Stevenson's patriotism, authentic SAL that leads to Existential Growth is best achieved by small, incremental accomplishments accrued gradually over long periods of time. As such, it is better to be the tortoise than the hare in Aesop's famous fable, because it is a slow yet steady pace that ultimately wins the race of mental health and life.
Thus, we may apply Stevenson's wise words to SAL as follows: Self-Action Leadership is not a short and frenzied outburst of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime.
"Self-Action Leadership is not a short and frenzied outburst of emotion,
but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime."
—JRJ paraphrasing AES
Progress
Alas, my inmost heart breaks free,
From all that has been stopping me.
And I exult in all that will
Break forth into my life yet still.
It cannot happen overnight;
It can't all fall within my sight,
But over time I'll make my quest—
To bit-by-bit become my best.
There is still so much to learn,
Things to achieve and things to earn.
Folks to meet—my heart doth burn—
As for it all I greatly yearn!
This anxious state amidst it all,
Oft seems to blur my life's true call;
Yet spite the pain and petty pelf,
I'll still claim vict'ry over self.
And meantime I'll enjoy the ride,
And bask in the abundance here.
My life will be serene inside,
And outside I'll be filled with cheer.
—JRJ
The Power of a Purpose
Knowing I have a choice in managing my mental illness empowered me to seek out help and achieve the mental hygiene I so desperately needed and desired. Along the way, I learned there is much more to mental health than therapy, medication, and self-help. As important as these variables are in your long-term progress, there is another key variable that is perhaps just as important.
That vital additional variable is PURPOSE.
It is hard to overestimate the importance of having a meaningful purpose for living that utilizes your strengths and talents and provides opportunities to serve others through the effective use of those talents and strengths.
Viktor Frankl's brand of psychotherapy—which he calls Logotherapy—"focuses on the meaning of human existence as well as on man's search for such a meaning." (32)
The success of Logotherapy hinges on a patient's—or individual's—courage, desire, and willingness to be fully transparent with oneself and others and then invest the effort and time required to tackle the difficult tasks that authentic mental hygiene demands.
Doing this is much harder than merely attending therapy and/or swallowing a pill once or twice a day.
In contrasting the difference between logotherapy and traditional Freudian psychoanalysis, Frankl described a conversation he once had with an American doctor, who asked him to define logotherapy in simple terms.
Frankl responded by asking the doctor how he would define psychoanalysis.
The American doctor replied by explaining that in psychoanalysis, a patient must bear the difficulty of having to share highly disagreeable or painful things about oneself.
Frankl then replied that in logotherapy, a patient must bear the difficulty of having to hear things that might prove highly disagreeable or painful about oneself.
Frankl's implication, of course, is that psychoanalysis places too much emphasis on sharing one's discomfort and interpreting its meaning. Logotherapy, on the other hand, seeks to enlighten a patient to the reality of one's situation—no matter how dark, dour, or difficult—and then direct the patient toward what he or she must actually do to combat his or her neurosis.
What method do YOU think would be more effective at solving real problems in a person's life?
It should come as no surprise to readers that Freedom Focused favors logotherapy to psychoanalysis every day of the week and twice on Sundays. Indeed, we view Logotherapy as one of the most valuable brands or forms of psychotherapy available in the world today. In fact, you might say that SAL itself is akin to Logotherapy in terms of its focus on personal responsiblity and its aims to help individuals achieve meaningful goals and growth in their lives, careers, and relationships.
This is not to say that elements of psychoanalysis do not belong in psychotherapy; they do! It merely means that psychoanalysis alone provides a passive and reactive approach to mental healing in comparison to proactive, logotherapeutic, and SAL-based approaches aimed at bolstering a person's Existential Intelligence, Growth, and Meaning.
Psychotherapy, including elements of psychoanalysis, and medication can be important—even crucial—steps to gaining self-awareness and managing symptoms. However, medication and therapy alone—sans a passionate, personal PURPOSE—will ultimately minimize the long-term efficacy of both.
In order to achieve an authentic recovery that lasts, every person must acquire both meaning and purpose.
If we were to compare these variables to the physical healing of a broken bone, psychotherapy is akin to having the bone reset, cast, and otherwise prepped to heal over time; and any pain medication used to palliate the process is akin to pharmacotherapy (drug treatments).
A broken bone will likely heal from these steps alone. But whether or not you regain full use—and or surpass the previous capacity, coordination, and strength of—the affected and atrophied bone and/or limb will largely be determined by the extent of your desire and will to rehabilitate and once again build up its full use. And your desire and will to rehabilitate and regain full—or even greater—use will depend on the meaning, purpose, and vision you have for the future use of that particular bone and/or limb.
If you have a compelling reason to rehabilitate and restore full strength to a broken bone and/or limb, such as a passionate desire to compete in a beloved sport, or be at full strength to take care of someone you love, or accomplish a cherished goal, then the restoration and rehabilitation process is much more likely to be successful.
A great deal of anecdotal evidence exists to suggest that the most miraculous of human healings— emotionally, mentally, and physically speaking—occur in those patients whose desire and will to heal is strongest due to some meaningful and significant PURPOSE.
Whether it be a mother or father who lives for his or her spouse and children, an employee yearning to return to his company, an elite athlete yearning to maximize her potential, or someone else who is determined to make a contribution to a cherished cause, the POWER of a PURPOSE ultimately exceeds the power of therapy sessions and medication—no matter how effective those might be in and of themselves.
I have seen this reality play out in my own life again and again and again.
The purpose driving my desire and will has changed over the years. First it was a desire to serve a full-time mission for my Church. Later, it was a desire to succeed in romance and get married and have a family. Today, it is a desire to be a good husband, father, friend, associate, and positively influence others through my writing and speaking.
While these desires have evolved and changed over time, the importance of a PURPOSE has remained preeminent in getting long-term results.
Moreover, it has been my observation that the healthiest periods of my life were not always the times in which I was thriving in therapy and on medication. The healthiest periods were those times when I was fully engaged in meaningful work I enjoyed and viewed as being important and significant.
Using your unique skills and talents to serve others in beneficial ways is always meaningful.
For example, despite the enormous challenges involved in teaching high school students, I was considerably healthier mentally during that difficult year than I was the following year, when I had far fewer external expectations, responsibilities, and demands and far more time freedom. While I enjoyed far greater leverage over my schedule, I also had fewer chances to interact with other people in meaningful ways.
As an old aphorism states: An idle mind is the devil's workshop.
An analogous mantra in the world of SAL and mental health might be: An underutilized mind is an incubator for neurosis.
SAL Mantra
An underutilized mind is an incubator for neurosis.
When my wife and I had our first child, people often asked us about the adjustment involved in meeting the difficulties and demands of our new responsibilities as parents. As I reflected on the question, it occurred to me that despite the inevitable difficulties, irritations, and inconveniences involved in being a new parent—and there were plenty—such things were ultimately overshadowed by the enormous meaning and purpose I gained through fatherhood. This purpose made the trials more manageable than they would have been if I had not derived such enormous purpose and meaning out of parenting.
The vital responsibilities I have as a husband and father ultimately transcend all other purposes in my life. As a result, getting married and having children has actually helped to improve my mental health and hygiene.
In saying this I must add a crucial caveat as follows: I do not say this to encourage anyone to get married or have a child in an effort to combat mental illness. If you are dealing with psychosis or severe neurosis, such a decision would be unwise and possibly dangerous to you, your spouse, and your child.
Keep in mind that by the time I got married and had my first child, I had been working on my mental health for well over a decade in preparation for husbandhood and fatherhood.
Thus, when you are mentally healthy enough and in a positive and healthy relationship, child rearing—or any other meaningful service to others—can actually bolster your mental health and hygiene because of the profound meaning and purpose it provides.
One of the greatest contributors to my mental, emotional, and spiritual health over the past two decades has been the research, organization, and composition of this Life Leadership textbook. Not only does it fully engage and utilize my mind, natural talents, and cultivated professional skillset, but every word I type carries the HOPE that it might one day be of service to others in a meaningful way.
Such a work has provided me with enormous PURPOSE and MEANING in my life and has, in-turn, dramatically benefitted my mental health and hygiene.
If you don't presently have a positive purpose that meaningfully and productively drives YOUR life, relationships, and career, I earnestly encourage you to diligently search one out.
If you had a purpose, but have lost it, I urge you to do whatever it takes to regain or reignite it—and then retain it. If you don't feel like exercising the effort to find a purpose, I suggest willing yourself to the task until you do feel like it—and seek out help from others (including Serendipity) to help you get started and keep you motivated along the way.
If you persist, I promise you'll eventually find or regain your life's authentic meaning and purpose. If you quit trying, you'll be more apt to give up on yourself, or worse, on life itself.
As you push onward in your own quest to find personal and professional purpose and meaning in your life, always remember that the only true failure is to give up—to quit. If you refuse to give up, then come what may, you will always find a way to succeed—and to eventually win in the game of life.
My Quest to Become Easy Going
While someone with OCD might obsess and ruminate about doing horrible things (against their will), the ironic reality is that they are less likely to actually commit a misdemeanor or felony, and a lewd or violent act than the average person.
This is because persons with OCD are often caring and sensitive people with hyperactive consciences.
They also tend to be vulnerable and over-sensitive to the way they come across to other people—and the way other people come across to them. Consequently, the severity of one's personal gaffes and other, minor mistakes, can easily be blown out of proportion in the mind of someone struggling with OCD.
Persons with OCD are often very hard on themselves as well.
As a result, it can be important to learn about and practice the art and science of Self-Compassion. (33)
At the end of my missionary service, my Mission President gave me a piece of advice that has helped me a great deal in the ensuing years.
Said he: "Be good to yourself, Elder Jensen."
This was excellent advice that I needed to hear. Coming from a spiritual leader I admired and respected, this counsel has benefitted me enormously in my ongoing struggles with OCD, anxiety, and depression over the years and decades.
OCD influences me to be anxious, uptight, unnecessarily intense, and overly austere as a person. These characteristics are not personifications of my best self; nor are they lost on other people.
For example, one of my missionary companions nicknamed me "Stress-Bomb." Reflecting back on my full-time missionary service, it makes me laugh to think about this because it was such an apropos description of my personality at the time.
I was often strung way too tightly for my own good—and the good of others.
My Mission President even remarked once that I would "never be an easy-going person." I don't think he meant this comment as a criticism; he simply surmised that I'd probably always be wound a little more tightly than most others.
Nevertheless, I interpreted his comment as constructive criticism and used it as an opportunity and challenge to evolve and change.
I take pride in the fact that I have become more relaxed and easy-going over the years... at least in some ways. I still take important things very seriously; doing so is one of my greatest strengths. And in the aggregate, I'm probably still wound a little more tightly than the average person. But, I am better at not sweating the small stuff, letting go of things, and am more relaxed socially than I used to be.
The War Goes On
It would be nice if I could say that I have completely conquered OCD, anxiety and depression.
But, I haven't.
Despite the significant healing and progress I have achieved over the past 35 years, I am far from being "cured."
That is the bad news.
The good news is that I have learned to effectively manage my disorder and its symptoms to a degree of approximately 85-90 percent. That's really saying something when you consider I was only at about 20-30 percent control when OCD first overtook me at age 13.
Today, when I experience a relapse of symptoms that are usually under wraps, I may dip down to 70-75 percent control, and then return to 85-90 percent through a new round of psychotherapy and/or a medication and/or dosage change.
Thus, the battle goes on, but things are so much better than they once were.
I have come such a long way!
Nevertheless, I suppose not a day goes by when I am not affected by OCD, anxiety, and/or depression to one degree or another. Moreover, I do not expect to transcend it entirely in this life and world.
But that's okay.
When dealing with any kind of mental and/or emotional illness, it may be unreasonable—and unwise—to cultivate false hope for complete healing. In many cases, however, it is quite reasonable and practicable to aim for ongoing progress and a high level of management in a never-ending upward spiral of gradual improvement.
To further illustrate this point, consider the following journal entry from nearly two decades ago:
Saturday, June 8, 2002Neurosis is not something that is usually overcome completely. In the words of Dr. G——, and I paraphrase—"the goal with OCD is to work with it so that it becomes a faint hum in the background of your mind and life, instead of a blaring horn in the forefront of your conscious experience."
I have been in-and-out of psychotherapy many times since 1997. The most recent was just a few years ago (2025). I still take daily medication. I probably will do so for the rest of my life, and am grateful for the way in which it takes the "edge" off my symptoms.
I am okay with the fact that I am not always okay.
I stand ready to always take full responsibility for my mental and emotional health—and everything else in my life—indefinitely into the future.
Many battles have been won along the way; but, the war goes on, and probably will continue until the day I die. My hope lies in recognizing the enormous progress I've made, seizing opportunities for further progress, and providing help and hope to others who face similar struggles.
Regardless of the challenges ahead, I feel good about how far I've come thus far in my journey toward mental health and hygiene. The price of this rise includes 35 years of time, countless hours of focus and hard work, exercising the humility to seek help from others as needed, and the endurance of much heartache, mental distress, anxiety, and depression. Nevertheless, as I look back in time, I can say with confidence that the journey was incredibly worth it, and I sincerely look forward to the future, which I believe will continue to be progressively better than my past—come what may.
There is Still More
As detailed and in-depth as I have chosen to probe in this mental health narrative of mine, I want YOU—the reader—to know that there is still more I could tell, but I choose to stop here.
In other words, the pain and struggle and wounds of my OCD-related demons go even deeper and are more poignant than I am willing to publicly disclose.
Some things are just too personal to share—and belong in that sacrosanct vault of confidentiality, safety, and security that exists between a mental healthcare professional and one's patient, and/or between a husband and wife, or two best friends, or between a child and a parent (or a spirit child and a Heavenly Parent).
I share this concluding tidbit not to spawn speculation of the nature and substance of my deeper struggles, but to emphasize the true depth and scope of anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder, depression—or any other kind of human illness, trial, travail, temptation, or weakness.
Such crucibles are demonic in nature and dealing with them can prove beyond difficult—to the point where they become debilitating, devastating, disastrous, and in some cases deadly if not properly dealt with. Moreover, we are not weak beings because we face, combat, struggle, and sometimes lose to such demons.
Nevertheless, despite it all, the answer is never to surrender—even though temporary retreats will inevitably accompany the warring and healing process.
The answer is SAL—to the best of your and my imperfect abilities—emboldened with the enabling grace and bottomless reservoir of Serendipity.
The answer is to NEVER GIVE UP... however long and hard the road may be. (34)
In Your Journal
M. Scott Peck, M.D. suggests that no one is completely mentally healthy. Rather, we all find ourselves somewhere along a spectrum or continuum of greater or lesser mental health, and could therefore all benefit from paying closer attention to our mental and emotional health and hygiene. In light of his suggestion, where would you place the current state of your own mental health on a scale of 0 - 100 (zero being completely, insanely, psychotic and 100 being the enjoyment of perfect mental health).
At what point along this scale of 0 - 100 would you reach out for personal help from family members, friends, colleagues, or other close associates?
At what point would you reach out for professional help from a psychiatrist, psychologist, or other mental healthcare expert?
What are you currently doing to promote your mental and emotional health and hygiene?
What else could you do in the future to promote your mental and emotional health and hygiene?
Who do you currently rely on (personally or professionally) to help maintain your mental and emotional health and hygiene?
Who could you additionally reach out to (personally or professionally) if needed to navigate a future mental or emotional health challenge or crisis?
—Dr. JJ
Wednesday, September 24, 2025
Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, USA
Author's Note: This is the 483rd Blog Post Published by Freedom Focused LLC since November 2013 and the 272nd consecutive weekly blog published since August 31, 2020.
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Chapter 3 Notes
0. Peck, M.S. (1978). The Road Less Traveled: A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth. New York, NY: Touchstone. Page 15.
1. De Silva, P. (2003). The Phenomenology of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. In
R.G. Menzies & P. de Silva (Eds.), Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: Theory,
Research and Treatment (pp. 21-36). West Sussex, UK: John Wiley & Sons.
2. Ibid. Page 36.
3. Burns, D. (2009). Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy (Revised and Updated
Edition). New York, NY: Harper Health. Pages 42-43.
4. I learned this fact from one of my psychiatrists. Moreover, several members of
my family have taken Celexa for depression, and all of us have found similarly
positive results.
5. This is a paraphrased quote from one of my psychiatrists, Dr. G——.
6. Simblist, M. (1998). "Homeopathy and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder." The
Journal of Australian Homeopathic Association Inc. Volume 11, Issue 2, p 18-21.
Page 20.
7. Ibid. Page 20.
8. Himle, J.A., Chatters, L.M., Taylor, R.J., & Nguyen, A. (2011). "The Relationship Between Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and Religious Faith: Clinical Characteristics and Implications for Treatment." Psychology of Religion and Spirituality. Volume 3, Issue 4, p. 241-258. DOI:10.1037/a0023478.
9. Rosmarin, D. H., Pirutinsky, S., Pargament, K. I., & Krumrei, E. J. (2009). "Are Religious Beliefs Relevant to Mental Health Among Jews?" Psychology of
Religion and Spirituality. Volume 1, Issue 3, p. 180-190.
10. Alma 39:6 (The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ).
11. John 17:12, 2 Thessalonians 2:3 (New Testament).
12. I experienced my first severe OCD episode in August 1990, just days prior to my 11th birthday. It involved obsessing over a photograph of a burn victim in a magazine that I found disturbing. The obsession haunted me, but only lasted for a few days. There was then an extended lull where I was OCD-free. However, it returned with a vengeance about 20 months later in 1992 with obsessive sexual thoughts and my son of perdition obsession. The time period of my worst OCD symptoms—and my relative immobility in the face thereof—was the decade from 1992-2002. From 2003-on, I continued to experience lingering struggles and intermittent relapses; however, I had a significantly better handle on the disorder than I did that first decade.
13. A paraphrased line from Robert Frost’s poem, Stopping By Woods on a Snowy
Evening (1923).
13a. One of my missionary companions had a nickname for me; it was: "Stress-Bomb."
13b. A similar scenario caused me to disqualify myself for receiving the Eagle Scout Award in 1997 around the time of my 18th birthday. This self-judgment came despite having sufficiently met the requirements. My mother went to bat for me in the situation and ensured I received the award. Had she not done so, I would not have officially become an Eagle Scout, which I had indeed qualified myself to earn. I am grateful to my mother for her insight, wisdom, and love on my behalf in the midst of my myopic penchant for over-precision and letter-of-the-law exactness.
14. This grade was more indicative of my laziness and OCD-influenced
habit of not turning in assignments than it was a measurement of my ability to
perform well in the class. Despite my D+ grade the final quarter, I ended up passing
the AP test with a score of four (4) out of a possible high score of five (5). In so doing, I
outscored one of my classmates who scored a three on the test, but had earned an A
in the class the same grading period I got a D+. This is a prominent example of how
my secondary grades were rarely commensurate with my academic potential in high school or
college.
15. Weg,
A.H. (2011). "Living with OCD: Strategies and Treatments for Anxiety Disorders and
Compulsive Behaviors." Psychology Today (Online). Published July 16, 2011. URL:
http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/living-ocd/201107/the-many-flavors-ocd. Opening lines.
16. Penzel, F. (2013). "To Be or Not to Be, That is the Obsession: Existential and
Philosophical OCD." Newsletter of the International OCD Foundation (IOCDF).
Volume 27, Number 4 (Fall/Winter 2013). Boston, MA. Page 15.
18. Peck, M. S. (1978). The Road Less Traveled. New York, NY: Touchstone. Page
16-17.
19. Peck, M. S. (1997). The Road Less Traveled and Beyond: Spiritual Growth in an
Age of Anxiety. New York, NY: Touchstone. Page 75.
20. Ibid. Page 79.
21. Ibid. Page 81.
22. Ibid. Page 85.
23. Ibid. Page 75.
24. Ibid. Page 77.
25. Ibid. Page 81.
26. In making this statement, it should be noted that we are talking about neurosis, not psychosis. As mental illness advances beyond neurosis to psychosis, there’s a point when an individual may no longer be reasonably accountable for their mental state and physical actions. The diagnosis and assessment of neurosis versus psychosis is the business of licensed mental health care professionals and should not involve casual guesswork by amateurs or professionals.
27. Simblist, M. (1998). "Homeopathy and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder." The Journal of Australian Homeopathic Association Inc. Volume 11, Issue 2, p. 18-21. Page 19.
28. The vast majority of my therapists and half of my medicine prescribers over the years have been female. This trend began with—and was fueled by—my positive counseling experiences with J—— in 2001-2002 at the Comprehensive Clinic. In time, I would reflexively and habitually search out and/or request female therapists as a personal preference because of my many positive experiences with female counselors over the years and my personality bias towards working with females in general.
29. Frankl, V. E. (2006). Man's Search for Meaning. Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Page 106.
30. Peck, M. S. (1997). The Road Less Traveled and Beyond: Spiritual Growth in an Age of Anxiety. New York, NY: Touchstone. Page 76.
31. A reference to M. Scott Peck, M.D., author of The Road Less Traveled.
32. Frank, V. (2006). Man’s Search for Meaning. Boston, MA: Beacon. Pages 98- 99.
33. Neff, K. (2015). Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself. New York, NY: William Morrow Paperbacks. Dr. Kristin Neff is a leading scholar in the field of Self-Compassion. You can buy her book on Amazon and learn more by visiting her website at www.self-compassion.org
34. Phrase from Winston Churchill's first speech to the House of Commons as Prime Minister on May 13, 1940.
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