1st Grade Writing Obsession

It's funny the things you realize about yourself in retrospect. Looking back at my young self, as far back as I can remember, I realize that I was born with OCD. My memories and artifacts from my younger life cause light bulbs to continuously flash in my mind, signalling OCD red flags.

It's funny how I think back on the way I looked out the car window on a road trip. I couldn't stop counting the lines between car lanes until I fell asleep because I didn't know when to stop counting. Was 20 okay? 100? 157? I was always afraid that if I stopped counting, something horrendous would happen to my family while we were driving. Hello, OCD!

I was also afraid of eating the little black flecks in my food at eating. I was certain that eating those little black flecks would cause me to die a horrible death. Those flecks could only be there from the pesticides sprayed on my veggies in the 90's.; the news told my little OCD brain so. Later in life I realized that those little black flecks were pepper flakes meant to season those veggies so my ten-year-old self wouldn't need to be bribed to eat them.  

In graduate school I was asked to put together a literacy portfolio--a scrapbook of sorts that shows my development over the course of my life as a literate person. 

Upon gathering mementos to place in my portfolio, I found some very telling evidence that jogged my memory of a little 1st grade OCD me. Over the years I had kept various items from my time in school. I like remembering myself as a writer throughout my life. I always loved writing and kept a lot of my pieces throughout the years for sentimental reasons. 

Going through different artifacts, I found a copy of a 1st grade spelling test that I took so many years ago. On that list my handwriting was perfection. It's funny how certain things like music, smells, noises, a piece of paper, can trigger memories. 

Looking back at that paper and my perfect handwriting made me think of myself as a first grader with OCD. I remember painstakingly pushing down with enough force on my pencil to create the darkest line I could without breaking the lead. That took a lot of practice. I didn't like my pencil lines to be too light or too dark. They had to be somewhere in the middle--a form of grayish black. But only one that my trained eye could recognize.

I did also like them to be pretty dark, and they had to be uniformly dark throughout each stoke of the letter. The harder I pressed, the easier it was to apply pressure, so the more evenly my handwriting came out on paper. How I judged the right shade of darkness of my writing is beyond me at this stage in my life, but I'm sure I had some reasoning that made sense to my first grade self. The point is, OCD, in no way shape or form, ever makes sense.

If my writing didn't look just right to me at the time, I remember feeling this uncontrollable need to erase everything I just wrote and rewrite it from the beginning. If I erased too much--eraser lines were present, or heaven forbid I ripped the paper--I would need to completely start over on a new sheet. 

And that was me. The urge to write everything perfectly was uncontrollable, but I liked writing neatly because as a first grader, it was one thing I could control in my life.

I never realized this was a problem. I remember justifying this obsession in my mind the worry  that I didn't want my teachers or parents or friends to think that I was "sloppy" or "not good enough." All of that, to me, was related to my writing. Ridiculous, I know, but not to a 1st grader. Or a first grader with OCD. 

I don't remember my obsession with perfect handwriting lasting a long time, but I do remember it lasting a few years into my elementary schooling. I know my OCD adapted and changed as I aged and grew into new obsessions and compulsions. Looking back, I realized that OCD has been part of my biology. It's been with me my whole life, and it will continue to be.

Sometimes I wonder how most of my life, left to my own devices, I coped with OCD and anxiety, not knowing that I was different than the other kids. Today I am just happy that I know how to handle it. I am grateful that I am stronger because of it. 


Lots of love <3 Holly

Anxiety Affects Everything, Even My Nails!!

I hate painting my nails. I don't really think it has anything to do with not liking actually painting my nails; I think it has everything to do with my perfectionism, OCD, and anxiety. I have avoided painting my nails for a long time. I avoid, in general, painting my nails just because I know that feeling of anxiety will creep up inside me once I start. From getting the polish out, to sitting down and actually painting them, to watching that first streak of color go astray, I can feel my anxiety building just thinking about it. I know it sounds crazy, but that's what anxiety is: absolute craziness. 

I love it when my nails are painted. It makes me feel happy. It makes me feel special. It makes me feel good about myself. I love getting my nails done by someone else. But I do not love doing them myself. 

I hate sitting down and thinking, If this doesn't look perfect, I'm going to have to re-do it. Then I'm going to have to wait for all of it to dry again. Of course it's going to get all over the sides of my nails and my skin. When I try to clean it off, it will mess the rest of my nails up. Then I'll have to wipe that off too and do that all over again! It will never be perfect!

I always worry that my nails don't look "perfect," to me at least. I think everyone is looking at my nails thinking about how messy and sloppy they look. Then I think this makes people think about how messy and sloppy I am because I can't paint my nails to save my life. But I know in my realistic brain that this is not the case. I know that no one is staring at my nails thinking that they look ridiculous. I know that no one is judging me, and if they are, who cares?!? However, my anxiety brain tells me otherwise. It tells me that I should not paint my nails because they'll never be perfect.

I've realized that I am tired of not painting my nails! I have all these beautiful colors (like the one below) just waiting to be painted onto them. I would love to start wearing them; I just need to suck it up and do it.

Sinful Colors (Walgreens $1.99) in I Miss You 930

Here's to the end of worrying about my nails being perfect. Here's to just going for it and painting my nails. Here's to not worrying about being perfect. Here's to not worrying about my crazy brain and what craziness it's trying to sell me. I ain't buying no more!


Love and happiness <3 Holly


To read more about my perfectionism, click here and here

My New Year's Resolution: Month One

It has been one month since I made my New Year's Resolution to do more art journaling. 

To read about my resolution, click here.

And here is my update: I met my goal for January! Yay! I started at the beginning of the month and slowly worked throughout the majority of it. I had all these grandiose ideas about how to make my first entry the "perfect one;" hello perfectionism creeping up to say hello! It took me most of the month staring at a white page to realize that my art journal doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be me, something from my creativity. It can be whatever I want it to be. I didn't feel like getting out any crazy supplies this month, so I just used some good, "old-fashioned" sharpies and my own free-hand writing to complete this month's journal. 

I think my perfectionism and OCD were holding me back from completing this project, which is what typically happens when I begin something. My OCD and perfectionism tell me I cannot do something because it will "never be perfect," "I'll be a failure," and "it's never good enough" (read: I'm not good enough). So, I usually don't get things accomplished. This is probably why I worked on this page right up until January 31st! Or in other words, stared at a blank page for twenty-something days until I just decided I needed to do something because I really wanted to meet my goal for the month!

So here it is! I still have a major learning curve when it comes to creativity and projects and my OCD. I still get overwhelmed sometimes. This is a prime example of a simple thing making me feel a little nuts just because I was afraid I wasn't going to do it right. Who cares, anyways! It is my journal! This is a good push for me: 1) following through with something creative that I want to do for myself and 2) trying not to bully or pressure myself in the process; wish me luck!

Ok, so here it is, seriously!

Here are some ideas that will hopefully inspire me for this month:

All of these images can be found on my Pinterest Board Art Journal Fun!

To follow my Art Journal Fun! Pinterest Board, click here. 

Do you journal or make art journals?

Love and happiness <3 Holly

What I've Learned from OCD: Nothing's Perfect, Except My Memories

My OCD has always told me that something is "out of place;" that something is "off;" that something is "not right." It drives me crazy. I can be sitting in my living room, looking at my beautiful floating shelves on the wall with books that my dad loved--his books about history and the presidents--knickknacks that I picked up from Germany, and Japanese and Russian antiquing finds. I'll look at that shelf and, instead of admiring the beautiful things that I love and remembering people and places that mean so much to me, I'll look at a picture frame that holds a beautiful wedding picture and wonder, how come it just doesn't look right. To me it looks crooked. It is turned slightly as is the frame sitting next to it; however, to me it is turned a tad bit too much. My OCD tells me, Get up and move the frame! It looks ridiculous! But I know that is my mind playing tricks on me. 

My mind tries to get me to feel the need to stand up from my warm couch and my puppies' snuggles to get up and turn a picture frame 20 degrees to the left because it just seems "off." Right now while I'm writing this, my eyes every so often are drawn to that picture frame. They are drawn there because in the back of my mind, my OCD is scratching at my eyeballs, making them turn and look at it. It's screaming, trying to force my limbs to get up and move. But I'm not listening. It's not easy, but I'm not listening. 

Once it starts it's gnawing at my brain, my heart starts to race a little, and I have to remind myself to take deep breaths. Sometimes I close my eyes and take the deeps breaths. It's not so bad anymore. I just chose not to look at the shelf until the anxiety it created dissipated. 

When I look at the frame, I still sometimes think to myself, That frame does look a really bad. I mean it makes everything look so messy. My heart may start to race. But I don't touch it because that would be giving in to my OCD. I'm not doing that anymore. I haven't been for awhile. It's not always easy. Even though I have been working at this for a long time, and I have lived with OCD all my life, stupid, crazy things still set off my OCD, like a "crooked" picture frame.

Today I was going through the mail, purging old junk mail, filing important documents, and setting aside things to deal with tomorrow. I realized that I had a birthday card sitting in our mail organizer and so did Bjorn. They were both just sitting there. They were from people we loved. They had written beautiful, sweet notes to us inside, and I was just letting them sit there on top of the TV in the mail organizer. 

Bjorn had set out his birthday card that he got in the mail from his mom at the beginning of the week. He can't stop talking about it because it was so sweet. The card has a beautiful image of a jazz band on the front; it's so Bjorn. He loves it so much, he set it in the middle of our mantle, displaying it with love and happiness. 

My mom always did this when I was little. She set all of our birthday cards out on our mantle at my house for each of my sisters' birthdays. It always made me feel so special. It was one little way to show how much she loved us and how much we were loved, to celebrate us on our special day. 

Seeing Bjorn continue this tradition from my mom unknowingly made me realize that I never do this anymore. I never have. Putting those cards up on the mantle make my OCD brain tell me that something seems "off." It throws everything off! Seriously, it is so bad! It looks messy and ridiculous! You're such a slob!" My OCD always jumps to conclusions and doesn't let up. 

Tonight I took those birthday cards and set them beside Bjorn's. They're beautiful. They were written with love. They make me happy. Tonight, again, I told my OCD brain to shut up. 

 s

Although my life with OCD has gotten much easier, I live with OCD every day. I wish I did not have OCD, but I do. I have learned to live with it. I cannot stop my brain from having the OCD thoughts it has, but I can control how I react to each thought and whether I compulse over them and react to them or not. This is my life now: silencing the thoughts and not acting on them.

I've realized over the years that my OCD has taken the focus off the little joys in my life like admiring my living room shelves. Everything on that shelf has a memory; I love collecting memories. And instead of looking at the bookend eagle at the top of the shelf and thinking of my grandpa reading me The Lorax, all I could think about was whether or not that damn picture frame looked straight. Tonight I have been staring at that bookshelf and the cards on my mantle and relishing in my memories. If I close my eyes tight enough, I almost feel as if I have ventured back in time.

To read more about my OCD and perfectionism, click here and here.

Love and happiness <3 Holly

My Journey #3: Finding My Way Through Perfectionism

To overcome my perfectionism, it wasn't easy. I remember being in first grade and thinking that my clothes were getting too wrinkly throughout the day. I remember erasing and erasing my spelling word sentences over and over because my writing didn't look "just right." The more I thought about this side of my OCD as I got older, the more I could pick out aspects of perfectionism in my younger self. This was something that I had, unknowingly for many years, dealt with. 

I didn't expect change to happen overnight. It was very challenging--not because what I was doing to overcome my perfection was hard, per se. It was, however, hard for me in the sense that working on exposure therapies left me to sit with the uncomfortableness that is anxiety. Anxiety is  just a constant feeling of "not right." Being uncomfortable, feeling off, feeling itchy in your own skin is the norm. Dealing with these issues caused me to face this feeling head-on, to sit with it, and let it ride out until it dissipated. Easier said then done for someone with anxiety, but I couldn't do this anymore. I wanted to change things.

Some of my first exposure therapies dealt with being okay with not looking "perfect." Whatever I told myself that perfect standard was. Right before I started therapy, Bjorn and I had gone to a fundraiser for his school. I thought I had the perfect outfit planned for the night, where I would feel good about myself and not worry the whole night about what I was wearing. I had a cute top, a new sparkly sweater I had gotten for my birthday, and a pencil skirt. My OCD had told me that my sweater was too "flashy looking" (whatever that means), even though I LOVE IT!! I decided to shut my OCD brain up for the night and wear my AWESOME sweater! Score 1 for me!

Right before we left, I noticed that my cute sweater had a hole in the back of it. A hole that I think I made when I tried to cut out the extra pack of sequins sewn inside the tag. First of all, I couldn't get over being mad at myself for "ruining" (my OCD words) my sweater because I was in a rush. I was so "stupid" (OCD words again). Score 1 OCD.

Fabulous sweater!!

Can you even find the TINY hole in my sweater?!? My perfectionism/OCD sure could! I'll give you a clue...

I was running late, so I didn't have time to choose a new outfit. I had to go wearing this sweater. The WHOLE time there in the car, my OCD loop played in my head. "I can't believe I'm going to this fancy fundraiser and I look like a slob. Nobody knows me and they're going to think that I am a mess! I can't believe that I am SUCH A LOSER to cut a hole in my stupid sweater! I look AWFUL! Everyone's going to be talking about what a mess I am all night!"

Now #1) This is crazy of my to think like this and have such little faith in people. I am not this kind of person at all! #2) The hole is SO TINY, I bet no one even noticed it! (Plus, it was a wine tasting party!) #3) OCD makes you think irrational and crazy things, even though you know, as a rational person, that they are not true.

I spent maybe half of an extremely fun night worrying about the hole in the back of my sweater because I didn't think it was up to my "standard" of looking nice for the evening. No rhyme or reason, just didn't "feel right" to me. 

It was such a fun night too! We went down to Clifton where one of Bjorn's student's parents live (sorry for the series of possessives there!). Their house is amazing. The food and wine were amazing. And performers from the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra played beautiful music for us in the foyer of this house! Completely fabulous, and little, old OCD me is worrying about the silly hole in my sweater!

After that night, I knew that I needed to stop it, but I didn't know how. I worked with my therapist on some exposure therapies. She told me that once I got dressed for the day, I couldn't change. No  matter what--even if I hated my outfit, I thought it looked disgusting, it had coffee all over it, a student wrote all over me in permanent marker, etc. I just had to deal with the feeling of not liking it, not being "perfect," and move on. I had already learned ways and strategies to control my OCD thoughts, but my perfectionism was still nagging at me. 

That next day, I took on the challenge. Never once did I change out of an outfit once I put it on. I even purposefully spilled coffee on myself a few times (as suggested by my therapist) to sit with the idea of not being "perfect" a few times. That one was hard. Even harder--I went to work without ironing clearly needed-to-be-ironed shirts a few times. That one REALLY bugged me. But I got over it, and moved on with my life!

This sounds crazy, but I felt that way about this outfit. It was "too wrinkly" to me and I didn't feel comfortable in it. I wore it anyway!! I like it--I just felt "uncomfortable in it.

Now I get dressed quickly, without much thought. I am out the door more quickly. I don't obsess about what I'm wearing. Now don't get me wrong, those of you who know me know I LOVE FASHION!! That's why I hated that I was letting my perfectionism get to me! Fashion is about having fun with your own style and doing what YOU want with your clothes--making your own statement. It shouldn't matter if I don't feel my outfit looks "right" or not to the rest of the world. And the truth is, it doesn't! I just couldn't help that crazy weird feeling that something about me was "off."

Now I'm back to having-fun-with-my-clothes self. Two weeks ago I wore a dress that I haven't worn in a long time because when I used to wear it I had an "off" feeling. 

I do love it! I put it on and I don't get that feeling anymore. I've come a long way with my perfectionism, especially in this aspect--my clothes, my outward appearance. It's not worth worrying over. It's worth having fun. It's one thing I love to do, so why not enjoy it!

I'm definitely going to.

Love and happiness <3 Holly

My Journey #2: Always Something Short of Perfect

My OCD comes with a side of perfectionism. 

per·fec·tion·ism

pərˈfekSHəˌnizəm/

noun

noun: perfectionism

1. 1.

   refusal to accept any standard short of perfection

   
   

I always held myself to this ridiculous standard. Everything had to be perfect. My house was never "clean enough." My clothes never looked "just right." I worried that when I did clean, things weren't "clean enough." I worried when I did put something on, it didn't look "right." Maybe it accentuated the wrong part of my body. Maybe I spilled something like coffee on my shirt during the day (the worst!) and then I would obsess that I didn't look "up to par" the rest of the day. 

The worst was, since I am a teacher, getting ink pen on myself because as we all know, it is difficult to get ink pen out of your clothes unless, of course you have some stain remover or something like that on hand at ALL TIMES. Which of course, you would think me, having perfectionism, would tell me to do! But--I never had a Tide Pen to GO when I needed it, which made me even more CRAZY!!

I also had a problem finishing projects, decorating my house (even though I LOVE doing this!) because I knew that I would finish a project and then feel like something was "off." I wasn't doing the things I love--drawing, finishing projects at my house, crafting, wearing outfits I loved, and even painting my nails. I was so worried that everything I did wouldn't turn out "the right way." 

For example, this happened this week. Things like this USED to DRIVE MY PERFECTIONISM CRAZY!!! Because my toes were no longer "perfect," in my eyes of course!

But who says that there has to be a right way? I would give up on so many things, not do the things that I love and keep telling myself that I needed to do better. I was driving myself CRAZY!!

This is how perfectionism works:

From Bitesize Bio: Brainfood for Biologists.

I was always in this cycle: setting unrealistic expectations for myself, blaming myself for not meeting the expectations, losing my confidence, procrastinating on completing or doing my "fun tasks" (sometimes not doing them at all), and then expecting myself to do EVEN BETTER the next time to make-up for my lack of success. Of course, I could never meet the original standard I set. So I basically just kept re-setting myself up for failure. Every. Single. Time.

The thing that I have realized as I look back at my issues with perfectionism is that I was the one holding myself to some ridiculous, unattainable standards. I could never meet the standards I set for myself. I don't even know if I ever knew what my unrealistic expectations or standards were. I just knew everything I did didn't feel "good enough."

My therapist always explained this feeling of "something not being right" or "never good enough" as going back to our cavemen ancestors. When you think about it, it makes sense. Back then people were always on the lookout for enemies, for their next meal, for protection from the weather, etc. Their brains were always on "high alert." I guess you could say my OCD and perfectionism kind of work in this way--my brain always has this "high alert" feeling. It's always checking out what is out of place, what is "wrong," in every situation. My alert system is always ON. It never turns off, and it always find something "out of place," something "not quite right"--even when nothing is. My brain plays tricks on me. 

I've learned to quiet this part of my brain; it hasn't been easy. But I've been able to do it. I'm just starting to get back into crafting and art and other things that I enjoy. I don't feel "off" when I walk out the door after I get dressed. I spilled coffee all over my lap last week and just dabbed it up and didn't worry about cleaning it out of my pants until I got home. At first I told myself, "You need to clean that. You look messy." But I realized, I'm the only one holding myself to this standard of what is "clean" and "presentable." Who cares that I spilled coffee on my pants? That's life, eh? (Btw--I'm trying out being a Canadian today!)

From now on, I will no longer allow my perfectionism to bother me! I have been doing really great at this the past year! I've had some serious exposure therapies** that were very challenging for me, and I am SO happy I did them because I am where I am now. I am currently telling my perfectionism to kiss it. 

**Exposure therapy works by creating opportunities for the patient to unlearn feared, dangerous, or threatening associations. Specifically, in exposure therapy, patients are exposed to feared objects or thoughts again and again until their anxiety has decreased. (from www.about.com, search: OCD-->treatment-->coping)

I've realized, even though I've known this my whole life (I just had to start believing it), that nobody's perfect. I am not perfect. No one expects me to be perfect. I need to give myself a break and allow myself time to relax and breathe. Life should be fun, not exhausting. I am happy to say that this hurdle I seriously have worked very hard on and have really come a long way. Much of this aspect of my OCD/perfectionism doesn't even loop in my head anymore. I have become good at killing it in it's tracks (as just opposed to stopping it--I prefer thinking of it as killing my loop. Much more powerful!). 

And So is das Leben. C'lest la vie. That's life.

Love and happiness <3 Holly